A Model’s Makeover

Hi everyone! It’s been a while. I had several stories in process when a sudden death in the family and a major health scare hit me around the same time this summer. I’m catching up on work and life and I’ve missed reading your stories and writing for all of you. Here’s a quick story I’ve been thinking about. I’m hoping to get back to other content, including wrapping two different serialized stories, soon. ~AB

Bianca smoothed her waist-length black hair as she walked into the photographer’s studio, ready to get to work. Today’s photoshoot was for her first national ad campaign and she was excited. Soon, her face would be on in-store signs promoting a popular makeup brand.

Still, Bianca had done plenty of regional campaigns. She knew the photoshoot drill by now: come to the studio way too early in the morning, with clean, un-styled hair and no makeup. There would be stylists on hand to get her camera ready. She wondered what they had in store for her today.

Across the room, Bianca spotted Kathleen, her agent. That was a surprise—Kathleen didn’t usually visit her on set. “Hey!” Kathleen said, swiftly crossing over to Bianca and giving her a big hug. “There’s my star!”

“Star?” Bianca laughed, pulling out of Kathleen’s embrace. “There are other models in this campaign, too! What brings you here?”

“Didn’t you get my text?”

Bianca pulled her phone out of the pocket of the slouchy black joggers she’d put on that morning, knowing full well it didn’t matter what she’d be wearing when she arrived. “Hm,” she said. “My phone is still on do not disturb. It’s not set to turn off for another three hours. I usually switch it off when I have early mornings like this, but I guess I forgot.”

“Okay, never mind that. I’ll just tell you. The creative director was paging through the model’s lookbooks and fell in love with you. She wants you to be the face of the campaign!”

Bianca let out a little squeal. “Really?!” That was definitely not news she was expecting to hear when she crawled out of bed at 3:30 that morning.

“Really!” Kathleen was beaming. “We’re talking subway and bus ads, billboards, magazines. You’re going to be everywhere—and the pay is definitely enough that you can quit your job at the restaurant. I’m so proud of you!”

Bianca’s head was spinning. She’d been modeling for extra money for a few years now, mostly for fun. It wasn’t until she met Kathleen six months ago that she even considered modeling might be a career. And now it was all happening.

“There is just one thing,” Kathleen said, growing a bit more serious. “I told them I didn’t think it would be a problem but I’d be a terrible agent if I didn’t tell you before you signed the contract.”

“Okay?” Bianca was suddenly nervous.

“Your hair. The want to change it.”

“Change it how?”

“They want you to go shorter.”

“Oh!” the young model exclaimed, relieved. She had been thinking lately about going a little shorter and had actually planned to ask Kathleen for her thoughts about it. Now, she thought, she wouldn’t have to. “That should be fine. What were they thinking? Like a bob or something?”

“Shorter than that.”

The relief was beginning to dissipate. Bianca hadn’t worn her hair above her shoulders since the sixth grade, when her mom finally let her start growing out that mushroom cut that all of the other Asian girls she knew also had. “How…how much shorter?”

Kathleen pulled out her phone and scrolled through a few photos until she found what she was looking for. She held the device up to Bianca. “This much shorter.”

Bianca gawked at the screen and then instinctively drew her hair over her shoulder and began to stroke it. What she saw was a photo of herself that had been digitally altered. Instead of her long hair, the on-screen Bianca was sporting a haircut so short her scalp shone through. “I…”

“I know,” Kathleen said. “It’s a lot to take in. But the theme of the whole campaign is: ‘Don’t let anything distract from your face.’ And they want to take it to the logical extreme.”

“Kathleen, this…it’s a lot to spring on me at six a.m. They want me to be the face of their campaign…but they literally only want my face?”

Kathleen chuckled. “That’s a good way of putting it.”

“What about the other models?”

“They’re all being asked to do the same thing. In fact, one of the girls sat down in the stylist’s chair just as you walked in.” Kathleen took a step to the side and gestured behind her. Bianca let out a little gasp. A young woman sat in a makeup chair, happily chatting away with a stylist. Half of her head was covered in reddish-blonde curls. The other half was covered in stubble. And the woman looked like she couldn’t have cared less.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kathleen spoke up as Bianca watched the stylist continue to peel strips of hair from the woman’s head with a set of electric clippers, “she’s not getting a contract even close to what they’re offering you.”

“What if I say no?” Bianca asked, still watching the other model’s shearing.

“Then they’ll pay you for the day and send you home, and you can go back to work at the restaurant tonight,” Kathleen said matter-of-factly.

“Just how good is this contract?” Bianca asked. Kathleen handed her a folder. Bianca opened it and read its contents for a few seconds, her eyes growing wide. “That will buy a lot of wigs.”

“That will buy a condo,” Kathleen clarified.

“Okay,” Bianca gulped. “I’m in.”

---

Kathleen spent the next few minutes going over the exact terms of the contract with Bianca. It was surprisingly generous for a model with no previous national campaigns under her belt. But it also stipulated that Bianca would not be allowed to grow her hair out until at least the planned conclusion of the campaign, more than a year in the future. That meant that any other modeling gigs she took in the meanwhile would need to be okay with her radical new haircut, or be willing to put her in a wig. Not that she’d need the money from another gig for a while. With a sigh and a final smoothing of her hair, Bianca signed the contract.

Kathleen walked the model to a small cluster of people who were talking near the front of the room. “Heather, Dustin, Ariel, this is Bianca. Bianca, meet Heather, Dustin, and Ariel. Heather is the creative director who decided she wants to make you the face of the campaign. Dustin is the photographer on today’s shoot. And Ariel is the production assistant.”

“Bianca! It’s so good to meet you in person,” Heather, the creative director, said. The tall, slender woman extended a hand to the young model. “I know we’re asking you for a lot today but I hope you believe me when I tell you we’ll do our best to make it worth it for you.”

“I saw the contract,” Bianca said wryly. She’d always used humor as a coping mechanism when she was uncomfortable. “I think you definitely will.”

“I can already tell I made the right decision,” Heather chuckled, running her hand through her impeccable silver bob. “I’ve asked Dustin to photograph your haircut. I’m not sure whether or how we’ll use those photos but I figure they’ll be good to have.”

“Hi,” Dustin said, also extending a hand. “I know you know this isn’t your first rodeo, but just pretend like I’m not there. These will be candid shots. We’ll do the whole photoshoot thing after.” He smiled reassuringly at Bianca as she shook his hand. She couldn’t help but notice his dimples.

“And I’m here to get you anything you need,” Ariel piped in, offering their hand as well. The production assistant was short and thick, with closely cropped hair—not closer than mine will be, though, Bianca thought to herself—that had been dyed emerald green.

“Oh, uh, coffee, please? Black?” Bianca asked, adding: “And I like your hair.”

Ariel raised a hand to their head and gave it a little rub. “Thanks,” they responded. “Mine used to be as long as yours. But once I went short, I never wanted to grow it out again. One coffee coming right up!”

Heather led Bianca to the chair the blonde model had previously occupied, while Kathleen trailed a few steps behind. A woman with a platinum pixie cut was sweeping up the mountain of curls the earlier model had sacrificed. Bianca recognized her as the stylist responsible for the other woman’s shearing. “Amanda,” Heather said to the stylist, “this is Bianca. Take good care of her.”

“Bianca! Hi!” Amanda smiled warmly, ushering Bianca to her chair. “Wow, you have really great hair.”

“Yeah, for about five more minutes,” Bianca quipped, again deflecting her nerves with humor.

Amanda chuckled at the joke. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll still have great hair. Just, you know, a lot less of it.”

Dustin set up a few lights and stood at the ready as Amanda clipped Bianca’s hair to the top of her head and fitted her with a paper neck strip, then draped the model with a heavy cape and unpinned her hair. The stylist looked to the photographer. “How do you want me to do this? I don’t usually think about how to make haircutting look good on camera.”

“What will be the most dramatic?” Dustin asked.

“Right down the middle?” Heather suggested, still standing nearby.

“Perfect,” Amanda said. “Number three?”

“Start with a two, actually,” the creative director responded. “Bianca’s hair is so dark and thick that we may even want to go down to a one.”

“Same length all over?

“Yeah, start with that, you can always fade it later, right?”

“Yup,” the stylist said, turning back to Bianca. “Did you get any of that?”

“Not really, but enough to tell that you were talking about whether to cut my hair really short, or really, really short.”

Ariel reappeared and handed Bianca her coffee. “Here,” they said. “Take a couple of sips now and then I’ll hold it during your haircut. You don’t want to get hair in your coffee. Trust me.”

Bianca gratefully accepted the cup and took a few sips. As she handed the coffee back to Ariel, she caught Kathleen’s eye. The agent looked worried. “You okay, Kath?”

“Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be when that first check hits my bank account,” Bianca smiled reassuringly. “Just promise me this won’t make it harder for me to book other jobs.”

“Honestly…it might help you book more of them.”

“Well why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Bianca turned toward Amanda. “I think I’m ready.” The stylist looked to Dustin, who nodded to indicate he was ready, and then picked up her clippers and turned them on with a pop, followed by a low buzzing.

There was no mirror in front of the chair, so Bianca couldn’t see what happened next. But she could sure feel it. Amanda placed one hand on the model’s shoulder and brought the clippers to her hairline with the other. “Here we go,” the stylist said, pulling her hand backward toward Bianca’s crown before lifting the machine and placing it again at Bianca’s hairline for another pass.

Bianca had expected the clippers to tug or pull at her hair. Instead, she felt a vibrating warmth as the machine’s blades chewed through her long black strands. She was nervous as hell about how she’d look when Amanda finished with her, and she was kind of glad there was no mirror to show her how ridiculous she surely looked now, with the cut in progress. Still, she had to admit that the experience itself was not unpleasant.

Amanda made pass after pass along the top of Bianca’s head, and when she was satisfied, she placed one hand on top of the model’s head to tilt it toward her left shoulder. Bianca got goosebumps at the sensation. She had never felt the warmth of someone’s hand on her head like that. Amanda began to pass her machine along the right side of Bianca’s head. For the first time, a few long strands of black hair fell forward into her lap. Bianca slid a hand out from under her cape and picked one up, caressing it. Even severed from her head, it felt clean and soft and strong. She really would miss her hair. She bit softly on her lower lip to keep from crying, and heard the click of a shutter. Dustin had captured the moment on his camera. She turned her eyes to him the best she could, what with Amanda holding her head in place, and the photographer lowered lowered his camera briefly and smiled.

Those dimples again. But ugh, Bianca reminded herself, she was going to be practically bald in a few minutes so there was no way the smile was meant to be anything other than friendly or reassuring. She turned her attention back to the sensations of Amanda’s hand on her head and the warm, buzzing clippers.

Bianca felt Amanda fold her ear down and trace her clippers around it. Okay, she thought to herself. That actually feels good. She remembered the contract she signed and briefly thrilled at the idea that it meant she’d get to feel this relatively regularly. When Amanda guided her head toward her right shoulder, Bianca allowed herself to close her eyes and just feel. She was surprised to find herself smiling. She heard another click from Dustin’s camera.

A few minutes later, Amanda indicated that Bianca should right her head. The stylist leaned over and whispered in the model’s ear: “I think you’ll enjoy this part.” Then she guided Bianca’s chin toward her chest. Bianca felt the sensation of the last of her hair being pulled taut, then perceived Amanda’s clippers come to her neck. Amanda ran the machine upward, through some of the hair she was holding and all the way to the crown of Bianca’s head. Bianca felt as the last of her hair began to come away in the stylist’s hand.

She felt something else, too. A clenching in her belly she recognized as arousal. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. As long as she could avoid embarrassing herself in front of Heather and jeopardizing her new contract, Bianca was content to let the feeling ride.

Amanda positioned her clippers for her next pass, then another, and another. With each pass, Bianca felt her stomach clench tighter. But then, all of a sudden, she felt the pulling at the back of her head give way and heard Amanda’s clippers switch off. “So what are we thinking?” the stylist said over her head.

Heather walked back over and made a slow circle around Bianca’s chair. “Let’s go ahead with this for now,” she said, “I may want you to fade it or just take it down a bit more all over, but I want to see the whole look first.”

Bianca surprised herself by feeling a little disappointment. She knew she couldn’t possibly have much hair left on her head, but was she actually hoping Heather would tell the stylist to go shorter?

“Got it,” Amanda said. “Let me just clean her up a little before we send her to makeup.” She turned her clippers back on and Bianca let out a little sigh she hoped the buzzing machine muffled. It might have for everyone else nearby, but the stylist definitely heard it. “I told you you’d enjoy this,” she said in a low voice, before proceeding to run her clippers all over Bianca’s head, turning it this way and that to make sure the cut was a uniform quarter-inch all over. Bianca melted into the chair, closing her eyes. She heard several clicks from Dustin’s camera.

All too soon, Amanda switched the clippers off and traded them for another, smaller, pair. She traced them around Bianca’s hairline, and up and over her ears. “There,” she said, pronouncing herself finished and stepping back to look at Bianca. “Perfect.”

Dustin continued to snap away as Amanda whipped the cape off of Bianca, then handed her a mirror, angled downward so as not to show the model her reflection yet. “Do you want to see, or do you want to wait till you’re in makeup?”

Without answering, Bianca repositioned the mirror and saw herself—her new self—for the first time. The hand not holding the mirror flew to her head as she let out a little squeal and rubbed her head with the free hand. “Oh wow!”

“Good wow or bad wow?” Amanda asked.

“Good, I think? It’s going to take some getting used to but…I think I like it?”

Dustin kept photographing Bianca as she turned her head from one side to the other and explored her scalp with her free hand, until Heather reapproached. “Ready for makeup?”

Bianca handed the mirror back to Amanda and followed Heather to the waiting makeup artist. She couldn’t believe she’d consented to shearing of all her hair. She could believe even less that she liked it. But suddenly the idea of keeping her hair this way for a year or longer didn’t seem as daunting as it had a half hour before.

---

The initial campaign was a success. So much so that a few fashion magazines had recently reported on a new hair trend, inspired by the “Don’t let anything distract from your face” ad campaign: a surprising number of women had been flocking to their stylists over the past few months for the cut that had been dubbed “The Bianca”: a single one-length buzzcut with a sharp hairline.

Bianca hung up the phone with yet another beauty journalist who had called her for a statement about the trend she’d started, and rolled over in her bed. Dustin was awake and smiling at her in full dimple mode. “Hey gorgeous,” he said sleepily. “Another women’s magazine want to talk to you about how you’ve singlehandedly changed hair trends this season?”

Bianca rested her head on Dustin’s chest and nuzzled in. He stroked the short hairs that covered the top of her head. She’d actually recently gone a bit shorter than she had on the day they met: Heather wanted to see what a number-one buzz with a skin fade would look like for their next ads and asked her to have Amanda cut it a few weeks out so that if it didn’t look right, Bianca’s hair could grow in a bit before the day of the shoot—and Heather wanted her to, Amanda could tidy it up on set. There was now barely any hair at all on the back or sides of Bianca’s head. “I can’t imagine what those editors will do when they see this cut,” she said.

“Well, I know what I want to do when I see it,” Dustin said, his voice husky. Bianca repositioned herself so she was on top of him and he entered her easily. She leaned forward so Dustin could reach her head as he thrust upward into her. It wasn’t too long before the two climaxed together, Dustin still stroking Bianca’s barely-there hair. The hair that had truly launched her career.

She couldn’t imagine ever growing it back out.