Wednesday, May 13, 2009


As a Bride to Be, you spend most of your time researching vendors, fine-tuning your details, and filtering all the free advice offered to you. Oh, and yeah, you have to maintain your life, too — work, bills, gym, shopping, cooking, cleaning, cat litter, and being a good friend and family member, since you don’t want to be a self-centered bride after all. When your big day arrives, you cherish every moment of it and then you and your new hubby are off on your honeymoon. Perfect! Once you arrive home safe and sound, refreshed and relaxed, you have the task of thank you cards (I fought it as long as I could) and intertwining your life with your husband’s.

As the weeks start to go by, there are no more appointments to discuss decisions like square or round plates. The magazines have stopped coming in, and there are definitely no more drives to New York for your gown fitting, which now hangs in an armoire at your mother’s house, next to the large, beautifully hand-written seating chart listing all the names of your wedding guests. It might be a relief for some, but, well, a little letdown for others, ahem, like me. For as much planning advice was given to me, no one really talked about the period after the planning and big day are over. I whined about it a lot, maybe I was even more annoying than I was during my planning, (gotta ask my girls on that one. ;) But finally, Craig turned to me as said, “I really wish you wouldn’t be so sad. Please remember the great memories we had, and the ones we are going to make for the rest of our lives together?”

I bucked up. I got the point.

A few weeks ago, we ventured to the beach — the same exact stretch of beach where we became betrothed 20 months ago. Through our whole year of planning, leading up to our Day, we had never been back to our beach, and being a water lover this was such a refreshing return. More so, it was closure. Closure for my “post wedding blues.” It was comforting to return where we started the first part of our journey, to see where we are now, and to see our hope for the future. It’s bright! So bright, we’re buying a house, but that’s a whole other blog all together.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Just Another Day, Downtown in The City

One of the hardest things about being an actor and model is the constant personal scrutiny that one is forced to undergo on a regular basis. I mean really, in most lines of work, if the boss asked the job applicant to strip down to her underwear during the interview so he could get a good look from all angles, there would be serious problems.

But there are some days you when you just feel so ready for the audition, you don’t even care that the “changing room” is actually a conference room with no blinds on the windows, where you can look across the street and wave to the guys at the water cooler. Such was the case a couple of weeks ago, when I booked two auditions for the same day.

I arrived at the first casting, for a bridal wear company, and everything went so right. Being a newlywed, the environment felt very natural to me. I hit it off with everyone, feeling relaxed and posing with confidence, and they got some great Polaroids.

No time to chat, though. I’m off to the next one, walking down Park Avenue with an added sureness in my step. After another super positive reception and great feedback from the client, I decided to treat myself to a cab ride over to the best cup of coffee in town — Ninth Street Espresso. It was a little bit of a haul over to Alphabet City, but as I sat with a perfect cafĂ© mocha, (don’t ask for a “mochaccino” or risk the barista’s sneer,) admiring the intricate latte artwork in the foam of my drink, I looked back on the day with great hopes.

A couple days later, after not hearing from either job, I started to feel a very strong letdown. One of the biggest factors for success in this business is perseverance, so instead of falling into feelings of disappointment and wondering why I didn’t book the gig, I’m choosing to remember that perfect cup of coffee, that strong feeling of confidence, and keep my chin up as I keep pushing forward.