Tayari's Blog: My Ettlingerization

I took a gypsy cab from Brooklyn to Chelsea to Marion’s studio. I pulled my stuffed suitcase into the elevator which was operated by a real-life elevator operator! I got to her door and I paused. I wasn’t sure what to expect. She takes such glam photos and I wondered what she would think upon looking at me— fresh from the Greyhound! Finally, I knocked. She smiled and hugged me. (I respond well to hugs.)

Marion Ettlinger is a small woman with a lovely head of tumbly hair. I tugged my suitcase over the threshold and found that she had prepared a small buffet—strawberries, cookies, chocolate drops, almonds. We chatted for a few; I nibbled nervously. Then she asked to see my clothes. Now this was the moment I had been waiting for or dreading. I shyly pulled out my stuff.

“Let’s see,” she said. “We can eliminate the green dress.”
“Okay,” I said. “That’s fine.”
“Let me see you in the black top and the red skirt.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Wait. Let me steam the skirt.”
“Okay,” I said again, fighting the urge to apologize for the wrinkles.
She looked at the clock. “It’s noon. Would you like a glass of wine?”

What can I say about the six hours that followed? It was great fun. I am pretty sure that I could never be a model. Holding poses is difficult when you’re out of shape! But it was fun to flounce on a chaise lounge in a strapless gown. Wearing a more restrained outfit, I rested my face in the hands and tried to look serious. “Give me just a drop of levity,” Marion said. I worked hard to comply without breaking out in a major grin.