An honest review of being the average looking groupies at DUCFS
Night, 1 – Self esteem, 0
When our friend informed us in November that, as a model for the DUCFS, she was guaranteed a table and asked if we want to go, we quickly thought up a plan of action:
1) Say yes. Without a doubt, just say yes.
2) Immediately stalk the models and consequently cry ourselves to sleep.
3) Start planning our outfits. As in, now (knowing that this was very much irrelevant, as we were not the ones people would be looking at).
4) Feel our social status increase as we tell the surprised people with raised eyebrows that we'll be attending the event that sold out in five seconds.
So we arrive, and even the guests are fit! Looking to drown our average-looking sorrows, we thank God for the copious amounts of the Greenall's sponsored gin-tails.
Other sponsors include small time brands that no-one's ever heard of, such as Red Bull, ASOS and NYX, to name a few. Now we realise how ignorant we silly fresh had been: of course this was going to be the biggest event of Durham 2018!
We walk through the arena and take our seats up on the balcony: prime model-gawking location. The evening 'meal' consists of vegan coconut bites, sugar-free bars and a not-so-vogue cheese plate.
It is now that we get a sense for how Regina George felt on her Kalteen Bar diet. And, judging by how long the cheese plate lasts, it is clear that the model diet life did not choose us.
The presenters try to ease the nerves of an insecure audience, but as the show begins and the gorgeous girls in beautiful designs begin to walk on, we know were are doomed (as are our alcohol tolerances).
We wait with baited breath for our own star of the show, a seriously striking first-year with looks to kill. We are shook. She is radiant and looks effortless, and it is clear that the 9-5 rehearsals have paid off. Our pride for her almost exceeds our feelings of inadequacy. Almost.
The interval allows us time to reconvene amongst the sea of other confidence-shattered observers, and we are comforted by the nods of mutually accepted inferiority we get in the bathroom.
But then, the swimwear section happens. And we are happy to leave our jaws on floor, as the oiled up, carved-by-the-gods boys and toned, bikini clad girls force us to seriously reconsider two things: our sexualities and that sugar free crap on the table.
And if this wasn't enough, the show raised an obscene £106,000 for charity, significantly contributed by our action bid for a ride to graduation in a riot van. From this, it's quite clear that good looks help (as do mummy and daddy in the latter instance).
But in all seriousness, this was the best night of out university careers (so far) and we've never enjoyed feeling inadequate more, especially for MIND, such a powerful cause.
Props to you DUCFS, and your beautiful faces.