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My Right Foot |
“Great." she responded, "Get down here as fast as you can.”
It was good news, since I was struggling with ad copy I had to produce as part of a test to see if I had what it took to be a copywriter.
Either the male “foot model” hadn’t shown or he had the wrong size foot, or various men's evening pump designers had sent over the wrong size. When I arrived at the studio – I no longer recall the name of the photographer – I was quickly dressed in tuxedo trousers, red socks, and size 8.5 black "alligator" evening pumps.

When the shoot was over, my fiance’s boss decided that the appropriate compensation for my trouble was the pair of pumps and dinner for two at Mr. Chow’s on 57th Street.
The photo shown above appeared in the magazine some months later.

It turned out to be my only modeling gig. The copywriting people, by the way, told me to forget about it; in retrospect, they couldn't have been more wrong.
We've never been back to Mr. Chow’s.
We've never been back to Mr. Chow’s.
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