Yes, it’s official. I survived my recent fashion show.

 

In case you were wondering, I didn’t fall off the face of the earth. I’ve actually been immersed in another world for the past few weeks, and I’m oh-so-happy to be back.

I forgot to mention it in my blog, but over the last month I’ve been rehearsing for Jesuit High School’s annual fashion show with my seventeen year old son Michael, and it feels like I’ve been in a virtual time warp.

This event is a huge Christmas themed fashion show with choreographed dance numbers and wonderful music, and it’s a major fundraiser for the school each year.

And the fashion models are none other than Senior boys and their Moms, along with Senior girls from the girl’s Catholic school.

Monday evening’s sell-out show was in front of an audience of seven hundred people at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in downtown Sacramento. And it was quite a success.

 

So this past weekend Michael and I were holed up in the Hyatt Hotel Ballroom getting ready for our three performances. Mind you. Most of these boys aren’t what you’d call theater guys, in fact they’re mostly the opposite and, truth be told, they’re really there for their Moms which makes it all the more special.

For several hours each day I hung out around the stage with all the other Moms waiting to be called for our simple short scene. The way it works is, a hired choreographer arranges Moms and boys in one big scene together, and the rest of the show is comprised of dance numbers involving the high school girls and guys together.

via dustjacketattic blogspot.com

But personally, I found one scene to be the perfect number for someone who doesn’t really like being under a glaring spotlight. I admit it, I’m not a comfortable performer. Although I was actually more relaxed this time compared to my dance with Patrick, which was faster and more stressful.

Patrick and me, in our dance scene two years ago.

And now that my modeling days are over, I realize I learned a few things along the way.

For instance, I learned that I have a deep-seated fear of falling on my a** in front of several hundred people. And that this fear seems to increase in direct proportion to the size of my high heels. Gulp.

So with visions of being the first model to ever go flying into the audience, I returned the gorgeous platform shoes I originally bought when I thought I would simply be walking down the stage gripping my son’s arm…

 

My Actual Dancing Shoes

and I went with this safer version. High but not too high. And much better for the sweetheart swing move.

Oh, and what about learning those dance steps? Well, that was another wonderful lesson I got about my decaying memory.  Yikes, I had no idea things had gotten so bad.

My only comfort is that it seemed to be a universal experience for all of us over-forty dancers. I actually got a glimpse of what life must be like when you’re feeling confused and being led around by younger, stronger arms, and it wasn’t pretty. And to rub salt into the wound, I still can hear eight counts echoing in my head

I learned that it’s actually possible to twirl in four inch platforms as I observed from watching my fellow high school models, whom I might add, looked absolutely adorable.

(Although they made me nervous going down the steps)

I learned that curls come in different sizes and that I prefer a more natural look…

and that someone named Lauren Conrad is famous for big soft curls which is the style of curl I received…

I learned that older women should be careful about wearing dark red lipstick...

I learned that when you’re confused and not sure what your next move is, all you have to do is flash a big smile and everyone smiles back.

 

And I learned that I will never be a Diva because I have this naughty sense of humor that makes me think of funny things at serious moments and prevents me from contemplating  curls and eyelashes for too long.

Oh, and one more thing. I learned that every woman loves a little white lie now and then.

Like when my sweet twenty four year old make up artist named Jena, looked surprised when she found out my age and blurted out, “Oh my God, you don’t have any wrinkles!”

(Yes I do)

But bless her little heart because that did feel good.

By the way, if you happen to be near the Roseville Galleria in Roseville, California, stop by the Nordstrom make-up counter and ask for Jena. Not only is she a master with her brushes and powders, but she’ll make you feel like the beautiful woman you are.

via pretty stuff tumblr.com

Well, that’s it. Now that it’s all over it seems like a fuzzy dream. The bright lights. The stage props. The backstage tension.

And those priceless moments on stage with Michael. I’ll share a photo when I get one, he looked so handsome.

In the meantime I’m off to catch a plane to Salt Lake City for a early Christmas party. I’ll be catching up on my blog reading and when I get back, I’m looking forward to finally pulling out those Christmas decorations.

See you all soon,

xoxo

Leslie

 

photos: via my Beatuy and Style Pinterest board

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