The group of young coeds appeared one rainy afternoon at my dorm room door, portfolios in hand. I was not sure what was more odd; it was poring rain out yet none of them were wet. They were LARPing in historical outfits from random time periods from Salam and Boston's past. They were also accompanied by a black goat "Hi, I hear your roommate needs models for his senior project."
I did a double take. For a second I thought it had been the goat talking.
My first roommate in college was a six year senior and an art major. He had an almost James Bond like ability to seduce women. He was the picture perfect image of a pretentious college fine art major, down to the cigarette in a long holder, raccoon skin coat from the 1920s, and goatee.
"It a critique of 1890s era occult feminism, a celebration of surrealism that pays homage to both Salvador Dalí and occultist Aleister Crowley." I cautioned.
"Gee whiz mister, what does mean?" One of the women asked me. She was a short blonde. Maybe five foot tall at most, very curvy. She was dressed in what I guessed women wore in the 1890s, a large hat with feathers, floor length dress, and a non-sexy lace blouse. Even their hair looked old school.
I knew I had seen a few of them before, but could not place them.
"I honestly have no idea. I think the models slowly get naked then he takes photos of them with these pictures of melted clocks projected onto their nude bodies. The pay is $18 per hour and its a three hour minimum.
"$18...per hour? My goodness, would we be required to put four quarters on the spit."
