Modeling isn't all drinking Champagne on yachts and being told you're fabulous. Runway modeling especially can be brutal. Ahead, one anonymous model shares the story of why she left the runways.
"I did Fashion Week from
the ages of 18 to 21, with big dreams of landing a campaign. But because
it's all about booking the right shows, when you don't, all you do is
walk away with fried hair, clogged pores, blisters and around $200 per
show. Eventually, I realized that catalog and print advertising work was
the way to go because the money is so good and the job isn't stressful.
Until I had that epiphany, show after show, I'd have barely enough
money to pay my rent, which was $1500 a month, and a book's worth of
backstage horror stories to tell my mother.
Everyone
thinks fashion week is crazy, but it's really the two weeks beforehand
for models that is really insane. You're expected to go all over the
city to fittings and castings. There's no time to eat lunch. And you're
so stressed out that you're not even hungry anyway. Yet, a designer will
see an outfit on you once, wait until you leave the casting, and then
call your agent and ask why you've gained weight. And all you can think
is, Seriously?! Once, while staring at my breasts, a designer
said: "Have your boobs gotten bigger?" I said, "Yes, I just started
taking a new birth control pill."
This designer then told my agent that I
had to switch pills or else I wouldn't be hired. Luckily I never had
any other weight issues, but some of my friends did and they lost out on
a lot of work.
The hardest part of
fashion week for me though was when I sat in the hair and makeup chair.
My skin is sensitive and I'd breakout almost immediately after they'd
apply foundation.
It actually got so bad that I started carrying around
my Chanel Vitalumiere Aqua Foundation to each show, asking the makeup
artists to use that instead, or else my face would start to burn and I'd
get an inflamed rash all over. And — ready for this? — makeup artists
set the makeup with hairspray (yes, they spray hairspray in your face),
which didn't help matters! So basically, my skin never had a chance to
calm down because the next day, the layers-of-foundation plus hairspray
would go on. And on. And on.
Oh,
and you think cotton pads are soft, right? They're not.
During the day
it's a lot of putting on — and wiping off — makeup with cotton pads. And
there's nothing gentle about that process, especially when you get your
makeup changed about five plus times a day. A Q-tip ends up feeling
like a tiny knife after it's used to straighten eye liner and get rid of
smudges for the one hundredth time (a lot of the shows call for a smoky
eye). Needless to say, my skin—and my eyes—looked tired, irritated, and
always felt super dry after each day of shows, so I'd have to sleep
wearing a mask of Cetaphil Lotion every night.
While, in all fairness,
some tried to be gentle, the truth is, most were more concerned with
getting the job done. I felt like they didn't think about how a human
was attached to the hair and that I was a mannequin head. And with all
of the styles, tangles, and tight braids that I endured, I'd have to go
home and throw a ton of conditioner in my hair every night. Then after
each season, I'd get a few inches cut off, since it was so matted and
damaged.
I also have a
bad habit of biting my nails, so the manicurists often put on acrylic
tips, which would make my nails thin and weak. And if I didn't have
blisters from running around to the castings, I'd get them from wearing
shoes that didn't fit. Designers only order a certain number of each
size shoe and whoever gets to the casting first, gets the right shoe
size. The others just have to make the pairs that are left fit.
No comments:
Post a Comment