It's 6.15am, my alarm bell starts a ringing...INCOMING. I bolt upright with the realization of what lays ahead in the Charlotte Taylor world today. It's the day I hand in my bid to show at Vauxhall Fashion Scout, AKA judgement day.
In a hop, skip and a jump i'm up in London town heaving my bag through streets and tube stations to VFS headquarters. I arrive at 11am, locate the office and knock.
Bag is unpacked, clothes placed on the rail and I get chatting to one of the directors, John. We talk about the label, Pr options, whether living on the Isle of Wight is a help or a hindrance etc... I flap around a bit when asked direct questions, my memory seems to vanish and I wonder if he asks me my name will I remember it...? The situation isn't helped by choice of attire. An over sized Michelin style puffer that is causing a slow but sure suffocation. My body temperature gage is creeping up to the "caution, dangerously hot, might explode indicator" with every question asked. Not smooth Taylor.
I ask questions about how many i'm up against (about 40) and when ill find out if i'm in or not (wouldn't say) and then pack up my bits and bobs, say my goodbyes and leave.
Coming out of the building I feel slightly flustered but happy. I have done all I possibly could have and it's now in their hands. I stop in the street, say a little prayer, do a big cheesy grin, then hop off down the road off to my next meeting.