Last night, after leaving a photo shoot location in the Meatpacking district, I found the neighborhood to be hopping with party-goers. There was a man dancing outside a restaurant who smiled and said, "You have dimples, right?" Less than 15 seconds after that, I got straight up ogled by another guy who asked, "How'd you get a body like a Maserati?"
I didn't answer either of these men because I felt as though the questioning might not end there. I will tell you though: I DO have dimples but as much as I wish I had a body like a Maserati, I fail to have 12 cylinders. Maybe he was confused because I have "excellence through passion and extraordinarily efficient form that absolutely exudes power and personality".
Easy mistake.
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