Angie needs to move her chin only a centimeter to completely change her look. In one picture she's the girl next door, all freckles and smiles. In another she's a heavy-metal seductress, all leather and lips. Angie is asked what she thinks about when the camera is clicking. "Sometimes I'm not thinking anything," she says. "Sometimes I'm wishing it could be over. It can become so mechanical."
The shoot finishes at 3:30 p.m., and Angie decides to do some shopping on Melrose Avenue. The first stop is the Optical Shop of Aspen, where she buys sunglasses for herself and her boyfriend. Cha-ching! Cha-ching! The cash register adds up the total, $500. Before you know it, the salesman is bringing out a special pair of sunglasses from the back.
"These were on the cover of Vogue," he says of the gargantuan shades. He admits that he hasn't sold very many and says Angie can have them for $50.
"What do you think?" Angie asks.
"They might come in handy on Halloween for a costume party," I say, assuming she is not serious.
"I like them."" she says, ignoring my comment. I wouldn't ask me for fashion advice either.
Angie puts on the Harry Caray-sized frames, and like some optical illusion, her face disappears. She takes them off. She looks in a different mirror. She is on the fence, wavering.
It might be...it could be...sold! To the redheaded lady with the American Express card.
"I can get away with wearing these," she says while picking out the case. "I'm a fashion model."