(If your ME, that is…)
Ever since last year, I’ve been eagerly awaiting Endless Night Vampire Ball De Paris.
Run by Father Sebastiaan, author of Vampyre Sanguinomicon: The Lexicon of the Living Vampire, as well as maker of Saabertooth fangs and launcher of the new alternative glamour-girl website (www.vampire-girls.com, which I am soon to be a part of as soon as I can manage to replace the fangs that were stolen whilst filming for ITV), the ball is famous for its fabulous parties across the globe.
An Endless Night event is like a cross between a sophisticated Venetian Masque Ball meets decadent Vampire Court, with the outlandishness of a rock n roll gig at a burlesque cabaret. With parties held annually in New York and New Orleans, this Saturday marks the very first Paris soiree, held at none other then the famous Moulin Rouge. Of course I had to be there.
The Ball
So did I save up months in advance, pre-booking a eurostar and hotel ever since learning about the event in December? Me? You have got to be kidding. I could say that I was waiting on my friend and her half-french boyfriend to decide, waiting to see if my partner had the funds, waiting for the weeks to pass as it was AGES away, waiting for Godot…you get the picture. It wasn’t like I wasn’t trying to work or earn money, but the problem with events that are months away is that anything you earn can be spent now, on a night out in London, afternoon tea at Momos, shisha and drinks in Westfields, new hair extensions, nail refills (although as a model, the last two are pretty much mandatory). And as for that amazing vampire ball? Well, its in April. Plenty of time.
Until the week or so before the event when you realize that despite the fighting, the bitching and the tears your partner has no money and cannot, no matter what you might say, borrow/steal/cajole from family/take out an unsecured loan/rob a bank/sell his sperm to aquire any. And yes, we did go over all of those options, pretty much in that order.
Faced with visiting the most romantic city in the world solo, with a newly loved-up couple, on an 8 hour Eurorail as affording the £300 Eurostar is just not happening, most girls would crack, change plans, cry in a corner. But I was determined. I wanted to go to the Ball, and I wanted it bad. But this Cinderella had to work for her glass slippers.
First, the money. £65 Eurorail was cheap enough, but there was the tiny problem of trying to book a 4 night stay in the most popular tourist destination in the world, over both Easter and the Royal Wedding weekend, no less. Youth Hostels? Booked, weeks in advance. Although still irritatingly popping up on hostel search, with one or two days selectively crossed out. What was I supposed to do? Hostel hop from one night to the next? In Paris? I don’t think so! The few hotels listed were either heart-stompingly expensive or miles away from the Moulin Rouge and the Arc de Triomphe. Still, I was a girl on a mission. I would check every website until my fingers cramped and my eyes glazed over. Expedia and travelocity to hostel world and craigs list. I WOULD get to Paris.
While franticly trying to book France via the web, I was also posting multiple casting calls on the modeling sites Pure Storm and Model Mayhem. Help me get to Paris! My castings shouted. Three hours shoot, £150. I went for volume as well as price…answering others castings for £50-100 for a couple of hours. Luckily my persistence paid off. I got two three hour shoots from my castings, and a couple of smaller £50-100 pound ones. Not bad for a few hours work.
Model for Hire!
I also started advertising on two prominent fetish sites, which I will not name here out of respect for the users who wish to remain anonymous. I got the idea after working at an exclusive london foot party several months ago, held at a top secret club in East London. Clients would pay the girls £20 for ten minuets of massaging their feet. No touching above the ankle was permitted, although many of the men enjoyed being trampled on in bare feet and heels. My first shift, which started at around 5 and finished at 11, left me walking away with £300, and that was after paying the £50 house fee.
Crushing men underneath my heels...fun AND profitable!
Parties like these seem to constantly move around before vanishing into thin air, but if I would have known that I could get £70 by having a man lick my boots clean for 40 mins as per today, I would have started casting for sessions months ago.
But now the big question. Did I manage to book Paris?
Why yes indeed. A small miracle occurred when 3 days before the 21st when I needed to arrive in france, I received two texts from The Boyfriend around 4 AM. Call me immediately! They exclaimed. Oh no…what was it this time? Did he leave his charger, wallet, or some other article of priceless importance at my flat? (AKA the DS) No…his student loan had finally came through. Split hotel bill! Not having to make an 8 hr coach journey alone or trawl around after my friends like some kind of foreign third wheel! My prince had arrived, and better yet, I managed to snag us the last two VIP tickets before they sold out a mere two hours later.
Good luck indeed…lets hope it lasts.
With just 1 more day till the journey to Paris the current dilemma is a much easier faced challenge although still a historic difficulty faced by woman and men around the world…what on earth I going to WEAR?
See you at the ball.
Alison Adventures 