If there’s one thing I have personally learnt from COVID-19, it’s that content is immune from the virus.
Content is the one thing we are still permitted to share. In fact, with most people stuck at home with a bunch of time on their hands, it might be the perfect time to create content. We must have things to listen to watch, like, dislike etc. How else could we get through these ‘strange and uncertain times’?
Two days after London was put on lockdown, my modelling agent sent everyone on their books a blanket email. As shoots were indefinitely postponed, if not cancelled, there was a current demand for models who residences were blessed with white walls. ‘Clients are looking to courier samples of clothes to models who are able to shoot at home,’ it read. ‘We're going to be collecting 'trial' images from all our models and sending these to our clients to show who is capable of creating this content for them.’
As someone who had quarantined at their boyfriend’s house with one pair of trousers, no makeup and had a backdrop of freshly plastered walls; I was exempt from influencing my way through the pandemic.
Perfecting the content-from-home thing is a lucrative art form, and as witnessed by my bank balance, something I am yet to quite get the hang of.
Modelling is not the only of my occupations to be transformed by recent events. I discovered this when the producer of my podcast turned up outside my house, but with a microphone protruding from his rucksack. Keeping his two-metre distance, he pushed the box along the front garden wall. ‘Sound test at 3pm’ he announced, before turning around and cycling off into the distance.
Our podcast, titled Sex, Lies and DM Slides, was meant to be launched in April (I just had to check when that month was, it seems we are in it). Alas, when social distancing crept in and my co-host and mine’s sialoquent enthusiasm (it means to spray saliva when speaking), was unable to be contained, we had to stop recording in a studio.
Since returning to our respective homes, we have participated in five sound tests with three different recording programmes and four makeshift microphone stands. I have also tested each room in the house to see which one echoes the least. The end result: me, crouched by my bed, juggling a microphone in the hole of a toilet roll.
There are some perks; prospective guests aren’t running between meetings, recordings and whatnot; or at least they have less excuses to turn down working with us. But trying to make sure one of us doesn’t sound like we’re stuck in a tin can is proving harder than we had anticipated.
So here I am, donuts in hand, reflecting on my former modelling career, waiting for my producer to confirm our first guest for lockdown. While we see if we can get it all together in time for a launch in June, I’m sure there are a lot of things I could probably be getting on with.
I could make use of the skipping rope I ordered. I could livestream my attempts at baking, probably something like banana bread. But instead I’ll probably watch Frasier re-runs. Because although content can make it through the Coronavirus all guns blazing, it doesn’t seem like I can.