Nine Women, One Dress [antikvár]

prologue The Runway By Sally Ann Fennely Runway Model Age: Just 18 Ml "Pin it!" The dressers were all riled up. Pin what? I thought. "Ow!" There was my answer: pin me. It was madness. I had been measured at least five times at casting. I thought that would be the worst part, fifty eager models lined up in black slips, dreaming of cheeseburgers. It was a different kind of cattle call from what I was used to back home in Alabama. I barely uttered my first words of the day: "It's big on me. Maybe you should put it on a bigger girl." "There are no bigger girls," the pin-happy dresser mumbled. I looked around. He was right. Last week I was skinny, the skinniest girl south of the Mason-Dixon Line. They called me String Bean Sally, asked if I had to dance around in the shower to get wet. Now I'm the big girl. "Get in line!" he yelled. I got in line. h' 1