When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a model.
It had very little to do with me actually knowing anything about modelling,
and more with me wanting to be Tyra Banks.
The older I got, the more this want increased.
I was a short twelve year old with wonky teeth, and insane hair, but I was on a mission.
I submitted to agencies, made videos, entered contests. None ever went where I wanted.
It got to the point where my dad and I were doing those scouting cattle calls for fun,
just to see if I'd get "scouted" or not. I nearly always did, because I looked different,
and that was the lucky number.
But then, I started fashion blogging.
I very quickly got very educated on the modeling industry behind the curtains, past the jet-set lifestyle. Or maybe I learned what it really meant. I saw the news reports on the eating disorders, witnessed behind-the behind the scenes footage at runway shows, where models dash in only to be fully stripped and shoved around, less like people and more like paper dolls. Can you imagine being told after a year that you are not the .01% of models that become a supermodel, that there is someone younger than you, who isn't jet -lagged, who has better hair, more interesting teeth?
I saw the models that felt like they couldn't handle it any more. They couldn't handle anything.
I didn't want to be a model anymore.
I wanted to be the boss.
Please understand : This is not me saying that it is a dark place that you should never visit.
You might be the next Karlie, and I would hate for you not to make the jump. You could be Cara, the next It Girl. The fashion world could be at your feet with a swish of your hair. You might be the model that gets to keep the Valentino dress you shot for Vogue. If it's what you want, go for it.
Just make sure it's not who you become.
You are an awesome person who can do whatever you want.
Model, and learn to speak Dutch. Shoot editorials, and study anthropology.
Come out the other end with a contentment, not a "what if".
I have a close friend who is a model and is happy with her choices. It is what shes does, much like blogging is what I do. I love reading about her adventures, and follow them religiously. She follows mine much the same. We are content in our places in this strange little universe that operates out of suitcases and closets, each an essential part of keeping it ticking.
This TED talk really got to me, deeper than any I had heard before, because here was a model telling people to their faces something I've tried to educate people one since day one (or maybe three)
Nobody looks like the models in the magazines, not even the model herself.
People who are not in this industry don't often understand that.
They see the "PHOTOSHOP EXPOSE" that crops up on every station in America every couple years, or the before and after photos leaked of a celebrities US Weekly cover.
They know, somewhere, that it is not real.
But they don't see the immensely talented makeup artists, and the ten pounds of extensions.
The stylist that can make you look ten pounds lighter or thirty heavier with the tweak of a belt.
It's photoshopped before the camera flashes.
I love it.
(didn't see that coming, did you?)
I acknowledge it's fakeness and take it in all it's glory. It's a magic of sorts.
But it's our job, as members of both the fashion community and people who are just generally decent human beings, to have people remember the beautiful collections,
AND know the name of the girl wearing the dress.
Being a model is not all she is and all she will ever be.
No, she is not #RussianModelNumber34, her name is Anastacia, and she is going to be a journalist.
It's not hard. Unless you're bad with names.
Whew. I have wanted to write this post for a while, I think.
I apologize if the thread get's a bit tangled, (or completely and utterly lost) but you get me.
And if you are the one who is bad with names, try remembering faces.
Mine's the one making weird expressions.
xx,
Justina
ps. to learn more about Cameron Russel, this fab model, click here.
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