Calvin Walker
I promise this looks more comfortable than what it is. No, really! I assure you. It’s a bit ostentatious and I look completely ridiculous but I stand out, don’t I? It’s fashion, after all! I didn’t even want it but I was out killing time between castings and I bumped into Daphne (Groeneveld, not Guinness) and she was all “Oh, I’ve still got this gap in my teeth and designers love me and I’m still young enough to have my mum cradle me in her lap even though I’m eight feet tall. Oh, that would look great on you.”
When I saw what she was pointing at, I really wanted to go New Jack City on her Dutch ass…and I’ve never even seen that movie. I picked it up, this jacket shirt thing that looks like something Lady Gaga may or may not have shat out, and tried it on. There is no lining and it scratches. So, yeah, it really isn’t comfortable at all.
But Daphne was all “Oh, it looks fantastic on you. It’s something you simply must have and you’ll wear it around town and all the boys will stop and all the girls will stop and you’ll even get a few puppies, too! You must buy it, Franco. You simply must have it.” I didn’t know if I should tell her my name was actually Tom or if I should just put her in a choke hold.
Just then, someone who I think might have been Sean (Harju, not O’Pry) walks up to us in this shop and is all “Yeah, man, that’s really good and stuff. One in my size?”
What? Did I work here now, too? I turned to the fixture Daphne had pulled it from and grabbed another medium. I went to hand it to Sean but he and Daphne were making out. Full on making out like the store was the set of a softcore porn and I was playing the shop boy who pretends not to see them getting it on but am getting off in a corner behind the registers. Well, I’m not and I wouldn’t so I walked past them (they didn’t notice) and paid for the stupid jacket/top without even taking it off.
I step onto the cobbled street and bump into a mother carrying a baby, a loaf of bread and walking a Shih Tzu but when I take a second look at the woman, it’s Miranda Kerr’s nanny (oddly enough, she and I have bumped into each other quite a lot) but the baby isn’t Miranda and Orlando’s. It’s Asian which means Miranda did a baby swap or fired her nanny. I tried to ask which but she rushed off, the baby punching her in the temple. It was weird the way she ran off because we always had such good conversation.
Off I went, through the streets of New York City with this ridiculous jacket/top chaffing against my nipples. Someone who might have been Scott Schuman stopped to take my photo. When he came up to me to ask my name, I realized it wasn’t Scott. This guy was at least five foot eight. I shrugged him off in frustration and stormed off down the street. If I wasn’t going to be on The Sartorialist, then I wasn’t going to be on any stupid street style blog.
A few minutes later, a young woman maybe in her late teens raised a camera and began shooting pics from a distance. I shot her a look and her mouth dropped open.
“I think that’s River Viiperi! RIVER, WHERE’S PARIS,” she screamed at me. All eyes were on me which made me feel oddly uncomfortable. The girl rushed over and a group of people followed. Camera phones, and Canon’s alike, were snapping my photo. People were dying to know what it was like dating Paris Hilton. I yelled that I wasn’t dating Paris, that I wasn’t River and I just wanted to get to the train station so I could go home. No one believed me. It was like a horror movie as I turned in circles with no escape in sight. It was like Hitchcock
I saw Daphne on the corner holding two massive shopping bags. She dropped one and waved to me. Even over the screaming crowd, I could hear her clearly as if her mouth was pressed against my ear.
“I told you people would love it!”
Tom Lander (Select Model Management) shot by photographer Arcin Sagdic for Essential Homme
Image courtesy of Daily Male Models
