The craft-services truck isn’t the only thing I love about my career.
Many years back, I was on set shooting my first-ever national commercial as an actress. While everyone was focused on the lighting, props, and wardrobe, I was obsessed with one special truck parked on the set. It was filled with candy, soda, unlimited hot chocolate, popcorn, and made-to-order grilled-cheese sandwiches. It was called the craft-services truck. That day, I learned that every commercial set has one. I mentally added it to the many reasons I love being a commercial actress.
The first time I knew I wanted to be in a TV ad, I was 10 years old. I was watching a Revlon commercial, and I was hypnotized by how much fun these three women were having as they danced around, laughing, with a Revlon lipstick in-hand. As they applied it, they faced the camera with a look that said, “You must have this too.”
I ran to my mom’s room, rifled through her makeup bag, and tried on the first red lipstick I could find. On other days, I’d pretend I was commercials, performing cheesy one-liners for a nonexistent camera, showing off whichever household product I could find to an adoring audience of my mom and my dolls.
Although I currently live in L.A., I was born and raised in Toronto, Canada. And as a Black girl, I didn’t often see representation of myself in TV commercials. If I’m being honest, I really didn’t think much about it — I just knew that being in a commercial was my dream. But as a kid, I had no idea how to make that happen. I figured that if it didn’t work out, I’d have to live the rest of my life doing some boring job.
After college, I had a close friend who became a successful voice-animation artist. She knew I’d wanted to become a commercial actress but didn’t know how to begin. One day, she mentioned that I should contact a few great agents she knew. I wrote down their email addresses and started reaching out, obsessing over every detail in the email I drafted — I really wanted to put my best foot forward. Not having any mentors or coaches, I did the best with what I had. A photographer friend had experience working with corporate clients and was willing to help me out, so she took my headshots. The photos turned out better than I’d expected, which gave me even more of a confidence boost.
I sent off those headshots, a resume, and a mini bio about myself and within a week, one of those agents called me in for a meeting.
That might sound promising, but there was one concerning issue for me: I was four months pregnant. Many people told me being pregnant would disqualify me from commercial acting, but I chose not to listen. Instead, I chose to go after exactly what I wanted. I drove to that meeting blasting Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” as I sang the lyrics out loud, “You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime.” Yes, I was nervous, but my biggest motivation that day was the potential regret I’d feel if I didn’t give myself a shot. The future regret of not trying scared me more than failure. So I decided that I was going to do it afraid.
I was very nervous going into the meeting. My heart was beating an out-of-control tempo, and the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering. The agent asked me questions like “Have you always been interested in acting? How long have you been singing? Are you open to traveling if needed?” I managed to blurt out answers that seemed to make her happy.
I also had to perform a monologue and sang 16 bars of a song. Luckily, that was familiar to me — I was a musical theater student all through high school. I anxiously sung my way through the chorus of “Saving All My Love for You” by Whitney Houston. At the end of the audition, the agent gave me the feedback I’d been so anxious to hear, and I couldn’t have hoped for better news: “You remind me of a young Vanessa Williams. How would you like to get signed with us today? I think you’d be great for TV commercials and films.”
I can’t explain that feeling of elation, to have gotten signed right on the spot. Even after telling them I was pregnant they shrugged it off, saying, “Lots of commercials need pregnant women.” Since then, I’ve booked dozens of commercials for national and international brands: Honey Bunches of Oats, McDonalds, KFC, Ford, Comcast, H&R Block, Bank of America, Telus, Canada Post, West Jet, and more.
On camera, I’ve been an overworked tax accountant, a high-rolling vegas gambler, a hard-hat-wearing factory worker, a loving daughter, a pregnant mother, and a motorcycle-riding lottery winner. From getting dressed up in wardrobe, to getting my makeup done, to meeting incredible people, commercial acting is a world I truly enjoy. It’s also fun to get recognized occasionally: Many times I’ve been at a supermarket, mall, or doctors appointment and had someone ask, “You look so familiar… were you in that Delissio Pizza commercial?”
Still, being in this industry isn’t all wardrobe fittings and occasional on-the-street fame: Acting can be an extremely tough business. Constant rejection is part of the job, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less discouraging when it happens. Still, I’ve committed myself to working on my craft and surrounding myself with positive people.
Acting in commercials also has unique challenges for a woman of color. When I first started out, having my makeup done was super-tough, since most makeup artists couldn’t get my foundation color correct: It was either one shade darker than my skin, or a shade way lighter. There were times I had to go to the washroom and quickly remove it, and do my own makeup instead. I also had to do my own hair, because most of the hair stylists didn’t know what products to use in my hair. Luckily, there’s a lot more diversity on set now — including among makeup artists and hairstylists — than there was when I started out.
I was recently shooting a commercial with a really fun cast, each of them just as excited as I was to be on set. There was a lot of laughter and jokes along with deep conversations about the difficulties of life during the pandemic. There was a natural click with everyone which doesn’t always happen. In that moment, I was overwhelmed with felt gratitude to be making a living doing what I love. What if I’d decided to listen to the naysayers — and agree with them? What if I’d been ruled by my own fears? I would have missed out on so much.
I’ve come to realize that if you’re serious about something, you can’t just dream — you have to take action, and make a roadmap. And once you do, don’t let anyone tell you how far you can go. Who knows: You might even surprise yourself with where you end up. That’s how I feel every time I see myself on TV.
