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Issue 17.3: living
Posted: October 13, 2001

Amihotenoughtogetlaidsoon orwhat.com

John Ellis

It's a damn lonely world out there and Columbia is no different. Hell, you say, New York is full of beautiful people and our Morningside heights campus should be no different. It is a typical New York myth induced from repeated viewings of Kids, looped Tribe Called Quest albums and subscriptions to Vogue. Everyone in this great city, you think, must be a booze-swilling, hip-hop head-bobbing fashion model. And this fine institution must, by default, be chock full of gorgeous people. The best type of smart kids: longlegged girls and strong guys a la Bruce Webber and those Abercrombie catalogues.

So it is rather infuriating and a little depressing to find, upon arrival at this institution of lower learning, that you have been lied to. But let's face it: you are not the first person this school or this city has lied to. Stop being so egocentric and mush on for concise instructions on how to get laid by the most attractive people on a continual basis. It takes a little panache, a little preparation and some chutzpah, but hey, if you were getting laid every night you wouldn't need to go to such extremes.

It's like this: campus is basically dry. The local bars act as a catalyst for many disgusting pairings. Butler is perhaps the most ill-conceived pick-up spot since A.C. Slater and company used to frequent The Max. What you need to do is expand your horizons and capitalize on modern technology. The web is brimming with sites where you can check out hotties of similar age groups, rate them on scales of 1 to 10 and send off emails proposing the most bizarre and contrived of sexual acts to those who scored an 8 (okay, a 3) or higher. But you gotta play it cool; nobody wants to know that you are a weakling bio major specializing in photo-whatever, who has chronic backne and a penchant for CTV. If you are gonna step up to the plate in the big leagues, then you have to create a psuedo-identity. We've found that the classic ‘model/actor' thing works well. Also highly successful is the lucrative ‘talent scout for model/acting agency' (First things first, no one is going to take the bait if the address has an @columbia.edu dog tag. Set up a false email address, then proceed). This really gets those attractive people going and ensures you a very hasty reply. Now remember: as a talent scout your inbox is full of young hopefuls, so don't jump out of your seat and scream with unbridled joy while frantically composing a sonnet to your new spouse. Wait a few days (rent Swingers for strategy tips), read their profile, then propose that s/he come out to the big city for an ‘interview' and ‘photo session'. Now you have that unsuspecting fool, as the Stones put it, under thy thumb.

Now the preparation: as a talent scout you need a business card, a photographer and a studio. Here's what you do; go to various open calls at modeling agencies, (of course you'll be rejected and laughed at), and get a business card. It doesn't matter which agency: Ford, Boss, whatever. Just make sure you get a card that properly represents the sex of your prospective talent. Elite, for example, is girls only. Next you need a photographer: find a capable friend with a high-end camera (or check for sale ads in Dodge) and tell him to dress the part. All NYC fashion photographers are tight-leather pant-wearing, couture-slang- (‘Fierce dahling!') speaking, gay Italian men. Note: There should be no film in the camera! Next: a studio. Have any friends with downtown lofts? If so, get them in on your scheme and get those keys. If not, you need to take the photos on location (Read: hourly hotel room on the West Side Highway).

So now you have your outfit laid out (black everything and dark glasses), have set up a business card, photographer, and a location. Arrange to meet the talent outside of your SoHo office (around Spring and Wooster works best) where you will be casually smoking a cigarette while leaning up against the Chanel store. When s/he comes, stomp out the smoke and give them the double-cheek-kiss. Go out to lunch during which time you will discuss their highly successful future as the new D&G or Gucci campaign figurehead. Compliment them but also drop little condescending remarks like ‘you'll have to lose that little tummy of yours'. Once you have successfully gotten a few glasses of wine in him/her get the check; it's time for the photo session. While in the taxi, whip out the cell phone and call ‘Massimo' the photographer, arranging to meet at the location. Once the equivalent of two rolls has been taken, ‘Massimo' remembers he has an appointment in midtown with his publicist. Now you are alone with a drunken talent who thinks s/he is a supermodel. Go to work. Use all the charm and manipulative cunning that made all the people in high school who got into NYU but not Columbia hate you.

After the old heave-ho, politely say it's time to go. Light a cigarette once you get on the street and glance at your watch. "Oh, look at the time. Got to get back to the office and take care of these pictures. You're gonna be big, darling, huge. Ciao." Hail a taxi and head back up to Morningside Heights. Mission accomplished. You were incognito; s/he has the business card of some real agency who has no idea who you are, there was no film in the camera, you used a false email address and aside from DNA testing there is no possible way you'll be caught. Congratulations! You deserve an Oscar. Now get online and find the next unsuspecting fool with dreams of making it big in this pathologically lying city.