Julie Falconer - the Face of Royal Ascot

Part 2: A Year in the Life of the Face of Ascot

Part 3: Final Word from the Face of Ascot 2009

Book your tickets for Royal Ascot 2009

I grew up loving horses, as did practically every other girl in my neighbourhood. We had no choice; they outnumbered people in my California town. I rode horses and occasionally went to the races, but never did I think I would have anything more to do with racecourses than being a spectator.

When I moved to London a year and a half ago, I knew I wanted to attend Royal Ascot. I was intrigued by the mix of racing and fashion, and I love to people-watch. It would be the perfect place to spend a summer afternoon.

My boyfriend and I headed out to Berkshire last June for the first day of Royal Ascot. Having notoriously bad luck with betting, I was primarily focused on the fabulous people-watching opportunities that the race meeting offered. I lured my boyfriend into going with me by promising him a few glasses of Pimm's and lemonade, his favourite summer drink.

We arrived just in time for the Royal Procession, during which I busied myself taking pictures of all the fabulous hats the ladies connived to wear for the occasion. As the red-coated band struck up a melancholy and oh-so-nostalgic rendition of the Beatles' Yesterday, I struck up my own version of a photo-shoot.

As it was a Tuesday and we had work waiting for us back home, we couldn’t spend the entire day at the races. We strolled back and forth between the Parade Ring and the racecourse, choosing our favourites and cheering as the horses competed. We ate fish and chips (organic, free range, and served in a biodegradable container, of course) and watched all the ladies in their fine racing attire.

In our day at Royal Ascot, it never occurred to me that I wasn't the only one people-watching. In fact, there were a handful of people there that were assigned specifically to that task.

As my boyfriend and I were about to leave Ascot to return to London, a man in a suit and sunglasses came up behind me and 'begged my pardon'. "I'm a modeling scout," he said. "We're doing a competition for the Face of Ascot 2009, and I’d like you to fill out an application." I smiled, a bit surprised, and acquiesced. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be in the running for the face of such a celebrated establishment.   

As I followed the scout to where the applications were waiting, I tried to keep my mouth shut. I figured that as soon as he heard my brazen American accent he would gently but firmly inform me that my kind was not wanted for his competition. He didn’t. 

As I filled out the application and waited to have my two Polaroid photos taken, I watched as another girl had hers done. She was posing for the camera like a professional. I was a bit intimidated.  When my turn came, I stood against the wall feeling rather awkward.  "Should I pose?" I asked, stealing a glance at the future Britain’s Next Top Model beside me. "No," the scout said. Was that a hint of terror in his voice? Maybe he was afraid to see the kind of poses I would come up with. 'Ok,' I thought, 'no poses.  Just relax.'  Easier said than done. 

"Should I smile?" I asked. "No," he said, again seemingly terrified. "Just look natural." What he didn't know was that 'natural' for me is somewhat akin to 'serial killer’.  That is to say that my non-smiling pose tends to look unfortunately threatening.

There were no further questions. As I stood wide-eyed and unsmiling in front of the camera, the scout took my mug shots (and mug shots they were!). I wanted to see them, but he didn’t offer to show them to me and I didn’t want to ask. 

I walked away thinking how ridiculous the English would find an American contender for the Face of Ascot. 'We will contact you two days from now if you are one of the five finalists,' the Terms & Conditions read. With my application being piled on top of at least 50 others, I was just about ready to bin the paperwork.

Just about.

To my surprise, two days later I received a voicemail from the PR team at Ascot. They told me that I was one of the five finalists for the competition. I was completely shocked. After listening to the voicemail five times just to make sure I hadn’t misheard anything, my first reaction was to start giggling. That taken care of, I composed myself and told my colleague. He diplomatically expressed his congratulations. My boyfriend was even more supportive, as he was excited about the prospect of additional Pimm’s and lemonade. Oh, and having a girlfriend that was the Face of Ascot would be an added bonus.

For the next two days I lived in a surreal-hilarious state of limbo. I had been chosen as a finalist in a competition I never intended to enter but was very flattered to have been scouted for, and was anxiously awaiting the judging on the final day of Royal Ascot. I was told that I would be paraded in front of judges and cameras, given lunch in one of the hospitality rooms, and shown live on BBC 1. If all went well, I would win the competition and be crowned the Face of Ascot 2009, an event I deemed highly unlikely.

On Saturday morning I headed back to Royal Ascot for the Day of Judgment. I was curious to meet the other finalists, and a bit nervous that I would be the shortest or the oldest or the least English or all three. I wasn’t. Of the five of us, there were two English girls, an Australian, a South African, and I. I was the second youngest and one of the tallest. There was tough competition, but I had a chance.

The morning started out with a champagne reception during which we met the judges. Each judge came around the room and spoke with us one by one. We talked about everything from racing to fashion to travel, and it goes without saying that we discussed the weather, which happened to be quite grey that day.

Following the reception we were taken to a photo-shoot, a fashion show, and a lunch. All of the other girls were lovely, and we had a nice time getting to know one another throughout the afternoon. We also had time to watch some of the races before heading down to the catwalk area near the Parade Ring for the televised announcement of the winner. I was a little nervous, but mostly just freezing cold.

It was strange being on television, and the situation was made even stranger because without a sound system none of us could hear anything the judges and announcers were saying. We were all a bit nervous that they would announce the winner and none of us would hear it. It was all I could do to catch the line "the winner is not one of our English roses, but an American beauty..." At that point I knew that I had won the competition, and I was completely stunned.

In the blur that ensured, I was handed a bouquet of flowers that weighed about 10 kilos. I nearly crumpled under its weight, but the sweet smell of Stargazer lilies revived me. The show wrapped up and I was overwhelmed by journalists, photographers, and people offering congratulations. My head was completely spinning.

When I finally had time to catch my breath I walked back to watch some more of the races and then went to the Parade Ring. There I met the Duke of Devonshire, some of the racecourse executives and a number of owners. I was also given the honour of choosing and awarding the prize for the best groomed horse for the final race, a position for which I’ll be the first to admit I was completely unqualified.

Later on I went up to the Ascot Authority Box to watch the final race. Once it was over, I returned to the Parade Ring to be on TV once again as I awarded the prize to the winning owners, jockey Johnny Murtagh, and the trainer. Seeing an enormous version of myself on the jumbotron was one of the strangest experiences I've ever had.

After the races were over, my boyfriend and I walked around for a while, then walked down to the train station to head back to London. It took a while to get a train, as the platforms were packed with people. I got a few shout outs from several Californians who were happy to have one of their own as the Face of Ascot, as well as congratulations from others who saw me wilting under the weight of the giant bouquet. 

When I finally boarded a train I had to stand for an hour in my four-inch heels holding my flowers and having to keep my balance with nothing to hold onto. My feet were aching. It was a nice way to come down to earth after such an otherworldly day.

I arrived home in London at 9pm. I was exhausted and ravenously hungry, but completely happy and overwhelmed. My year as the Face of Ascot had just begun.

Next Monday: Julie's year as the Face of Ascot...

Read Julie's own blog at http://aladyinlondon.blogspot.com/

Part 2: A Year in the Life of the Face of Ascot

Part 3: Final Word from the Face of Ascot 2009

Book your tickets for Royal Ascot 2009

Royal Ascot Special Focus 2009