Noni, part time model

Derek Zoolander: Well I guess it all started the first time I went through the second grade. I caught my reflection in a spoon while I was eating my cereal, and I remember thinking "wow, you're ridiculously good looking, maybe you could do that for a career."
Matilda: Do what for a career?
Derek Zoolander: Be professionally good looking.


Whenever visitors come, I like to take them to Art’s Delicatessen on Ventura Blvd. in Studio City. To me, Art’s is quintessential Los Angeles - from the old Hollywood “ROMEOs” in the corner (retired old men eating out) to the top heavy porn stars with their agents to the directors and producers discussing the set to the actors reading scripts over lunch. You probably couldn’t find similar crowd all in one deli in any other city in the world. When Toby‘s dad was in town last week, I brought him there and joked that in forty-five minutes he had seen what LA is all about. We walked across the street to the bank where he watched a macaroni-and-cheese covered Noni and Lucy while I deposited a check. As he was waiting, his LA experience was completed - a casting agent introduced herself and handed him her information, explaining that she’d like to see Noni come in for a casting call for an Old Navy advertisement next week.

That is how I found myself turning into Beverly Blvd. this morning, singing the Flight of the Concords song (“You’re so beautiful, you could be a part time model… but you’d probably still have to keep your normal job…”) while Noni slept in the back. I wasn‘t sure how I felt about my sudden role as a stage mom, but then I’d talked to some actors about the benefits of residual checks and decided that if Old Navy wanted to pay Noni to play with some other babies in cute clothing with the cameras rolling, that’d work out just fine.

I found the studio, parked the car, woke Noni from her nap, decided to honor her wishes to remain barefoot, and walked up to the studio. We soon found ourselves in a room full of parents chasing their babies with brushes. A young woman handed me a sheet of paper and instructed me to fill it out and then wait for our appointment. I plopped Noni down next to a pile of graham crackers and looked at the paper. It asked for my name, Noni’s name, our phone numbers. So far so good. I left the agent part blank. Then it got a little more tricky. Height? No idea. Weight? OK people, she’s the third, I do not keep track of these things. Favorite color? This completely stumped me. Should Noni have a favorite color? I wrote blue just because pink seemed too obvious. I checked it with Noni first and she nodded gamely while banging on the chair. Favorite song? This hit to the heart of my third-child-neglect-guilt (as chronicled in a prior entry). Would it look bad if I wrote that the only songs she ever hears are sung by pre-teen pop stars? I wrote “lullaby” because I do sing that to her every night and she seems to like it. Afterward it occurred to me that’s actually not the name of a specific song, but by then I’d handed in the paper.

Then we sat and waited in a room crawling with babies. It looked like a Benetton ad in action - babies with black bangs, yellow pig tails, dred locks, fuzzy red hair. All of them crawling and falling all over while their parents tried desperately to keep them clean and presentable.

After a few minutes, Noni’s name was called and I picked her up and brought her through a door, as indicated. Inside the room, five men and women, dressed in all black, stared at us from behind a bright spotlight and cameras. Next to the door, an X was marked on the floor in tape.
“Hello,” said one of the women dressed in black.
“Hi,” I said. Noni wiggled.
“How old is she?”
“Sixteen months.”
“Please put her on the X.”
“On the X?”
“Yes on the X. And then step back a bit.”
This is when I realized that this whole modeling thing might not work after all. I looked at the X and thought, are you kidding me? You want me to put her on the X and step back? Do you realize that this is a child who cries herself into a coma when I leave her surrounded by toys and in the arms of the sweet lady at the Y? There is no way in hell she is going to stand there and smile. Of course, I didn’t mention any of this, but instead I pretended that I expected it to go just fine and put her on the X. I took a step back. She took a deep breath…and screamed.
“MAMA!”
“Thank you,” said the lady in black.
“Thanks,” I said and Noni and I headed out the door.

When I was ten years old, we bought a welsh corgi from a kennel. Apparently, he had the perfect look for a welsh corgi - the right shaped face, the right colored nose, the right sized eyes. We didn’t much care since all we were looking for was a friendly, waggy dog. In fact, we’d gone in to buy the runt of the litter, one without perfect corgi looks, but he was too sick to bring home and my parents, looking at their two daughters waiting eagerly to bring home a puppy, decided that they’d pay extra for the good looking pup just so we could bring one home. The woman at the kennel agreed to sell him to us on the condition that she could show him from time to time. At his first show, Perry, trotted along the circle with the other dogs. The judges oohed and aaahed over his fine coat and perfect walk. Then they brought him up to the stand to observe him more closely. One of the judges pet his head and watched in horror as he rolled over, flailing his legs in the air and waiting for his tummy to be scratched. Apparently, this is not pedigreed dog behavior. It was the start and end of his show dog days.

I’m not sure if Noni’s cry for me will be the end of her casting days or not. Apparently they‘ll call if they want her to come back in, but I’m guessing they may be looking for a baby who is a bit more independent. Then again, I can’t help but wonder how many babies would smile cheerfully into a bright light and a room full of strangers, but there must be some who do. Either way, I’m glad that we went, chiefly for the Hollywood experience, which was capped off perfectly when we saw the four girls from The Hills step out of their limo and into a restaurant as we exited the studio.

Noni seems to be unaffected by her Hollywood morning. She spent the ride home kicking her legs and humming along to a new song I am teaching her. Whether we ever fill out any more forms again or not, I decided this baby has got to learn some baby songs. I sang her “Old McDonald” ten times on the drive home.