"Possibly, we will have twigs in your hair, Gabrielle. Very smoky eyes. Sort of a majestic kind of bride, soft but brooding. Think Dolce & Gabanna. Please bring any shoes you think will work - especially if you have some silver ones. You hair is still red and long? Oh, good. The stylist is from Paris…So you better get a bikini wax just in case." 4:00 a.m.

I am driving on my way to the airport, going over my crazy conversation with Catherine Schuller, and I am wondering what I have gotten myself into. A bikini wax just in case? In case of what? Aren't most wedding dresses floor length? This photo shoot is starting to sound a bit peculiar, I muse to myself as I drive to the airport. Deep in thought, it takes me a second to notice the flashing lights in my rear view mirror. 100 mph in a 50? I want to say, "Officer, if you were pondering what sort of wedding dress requires a bikini wax, wouldn't you be driving a little fast, too?" I choose to keep my thoughts to myself as I end up with a warning and a smile. 6:00 a.m.

Sleeping on the plane (incidentally, the only sleep I manage to get before the shoot), I dream of pixies, elves, and little nymphs running around with twigs in their hair, wearing wedding dresses in jeweled tones, with soft but brooding faces and the dresses all shorter than a bikini bottom. A sort of "Midsummer Night's Dream" meets the "Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue." I wake up with a jolt, feeling somewhat panic stricken. I have just arrived in New York. 9:00 a.m.

Catherine meets me at the airport, beautiful and bubbling with charm, and we dash off in her car to what seemingly is the general direction of the photo shoot. Four gas stations and one Dunkin Donuts stop later, we feel confident that we are finally headed in the right direction. 11:00 a.m.

We arrive to a cloud of mystery that envelops the site of the shoot. Girls are trying on their gowns, the photographer is fixing his light, the stylist is pinning and tucking. Our host, Sue, welcomes me and offers me some hors d'oeuvres. And all of a sudden, WOOSH! I am plopped down in a chair and looked up and down by the discerning eye of the most beautiful nymph-like creature.

As Shoshanna applies creams and blushes, shadows, lip paints and eyelash lacquer, I feel like I am in one of those old MGM studios where everyone is trying very hard to varnish some new raw material into a thing of beauty. Knowing glances from the other, already polished models fall on my face. They wonder: What miracles will Shoshanna work on Gabrielle? I emerge from my chrysalis, and glance at the mirror. The magic of a truly accomplished makeup artist, with her paints and brushes, never ceases to amaze me. 2:00 p.m.

Now that Shoshanna has transformed me from the girl next door to a Royal Vogue Princess, I am escorted downstairs to try on my gowns. Fluffy taffetas, rich silks and satins are thrown on and taken off of me. All luxurious, all LONG! Then, all at once, I fall in love! Perfection. So elegant and rich. Creamy satin with intricate beading and layer upon layer of acrynalin. This is definitely the one. I almost forget I am modeling this dress and not actually getting married. But, as time is of the essence, I make my way to the bright lights on my 4 l/2 inch high heels, praying that my face does not melt off and that I do not twist my ankle. 5:00 p.m.

I strike my first pose. The stylist, William, gorgeous in his own right, adds fire to the background. He notices that I have arrived on the set. After the nicking and tucking finishes, he adjusts my head and corrects my posture. This is an unfortunate chore he will have to repeat for each dress. I watch Darren (the photographer) and William in action, and find myself wondering if the shoot wouldn't be better if they were the models. They are both so poised and electric.

I find out later that their essence has not gone unnoticed. Darren has done numerous editorials for Paris Vogue; William, along with his uncanny eye for making everything right, is also a high fashion model! 12:00 a.m.

Flash. Whoosh. Zoom. Can it really be midnight and we are still shooting? I allow my eye to wander around the room in between shots. Ann, our Marilyn Monroe look-alike, never faltering; Carol, with her peaches and cream complexion, looking as Though she stepped out of a turn of the century cameo necklace; Regina - calm, cool, and collected, with an air of Top Model about her. And I wonder: Am I the only rose wilting in this bouquet? 1:00 a.m.

And it's a wrap! As I step out of my last dress, I look back at the shoot and see only fabric. The satin strokes of Shoshanna's brush. The acrynalin-like crash of the flash of Darren's camera. The buoyant, taffeta passion behind William's styling, morphing and Maneuvering. And, finally, the gossamer softness of a day well used.