Now, when I say 'interview', I mean 'a journalist from Marie Claire interviewed me for a story'. I did not, as some assumed, apply for a job at Marie Claire. Obviously if Marie Claire were to offer me a job I would grab it (I still have my eye on that position as Cover Girl) but this was not that kind of interview.
I was perfectly cool about being interviewed for a high end mag. I didn't obsess at all about what I was going to wear; I tried on three different outfits simply because I had time to kill. And I certainly didn't change my top after a friend suggested that what I was wearing was slightly too... well... 'wrong'. I changed because I was just ready to change. Fullstop. And I polished the 'K' in my 'K' necklace simply because I like it to look shiny. Nothing to do with the interview.I didn't worry at all about my hair; I washed even though it wasn't washing day because I just felt like a good scrub. And I definitely didn't put on any make-up - just foundation, eyeliner, eyebrow groomer, two shades of eyeshadow, blush, lipstick and mascara - what experts call the 'natural' look (if 'natural' is wearing a shitload of makeup). And yes, it was annoying when I stabbed myself painfully in the eye with the mascara wand whilst applying the 17th coat, but I didn't even come close to having to cancel the interview; after all, my other eye was still perfectly functional.
It's true that my stomach was a little bit jittery before the big event, but that was no doubt because I hadn't eaten much that morning - just an orange, two pieces of toast, a couple of slices of cheese and a nice big cappucino. And I settled my tummy easily with an egg mayo sandwich and a Coke Zero, only smearing the smallest bit of egg over my beautiful MC ready top, and spilling just half a cup or so of Coke Zero over my lovely skinny jeans. Happily, it all dried before the interview and no-one noticed a thing. Or at least, if they did, they were polite enough not to tell me.
What made things even more exciting was that the interview was filmed by Channel 7. Which meant that the very charming sound guy got his hands down my bra to insert a microphone in my cleavage. Or at least he would have, if I had any cleavage. As it was, he kind of taped it to my ribcage. Poor guy. He was totally ripped off.
The interview went well. I was relaxed, witty and insightful, chatting easily about all sorts of fascinating subjects. At least, I desperately hope that's how I look when they edit the thing. And when I came home and ran to the mirror, I was thrilled to see that my mascara was still in place, my eyebrows were neat, and - best of all - there was no egg in my teeth.
It wasn't until this morning that I realised the horrible truth. The 'K' in my 'K' necklace had been turned the wrong way. I'd done the interview upside down.
Oh K! Guess that's just the kind of cover girl I am....
