Standing in the middle of the room half naked in front of my agents, my skin crawling with fear, blinded by the constant flash of the Polaroid, and hearing nothing but criticism, when all of a sudden, it stops. I heard nothing but a high-pitched ring and felt the vibrating pulse of my heart. Moving as if in slow motion, I could see hand gestures and lips moving, but no sounds. At the blink of an eye, the world sped up and was back to normal. The epiphany on how to survive in this business was finally clear. Throughout the constant body shaming and learning how to surviving this toxic environment, I was able to look beyond the faulty glamour, and gain self-confidence that had evolved into becoming the DNA of who I am.
It all started once I turned fifteen. I was transitioning from a commercial child model, to an adult fashion model at Wilhelmina Models. My agent, Jonathan, who nurtured me throughout my entire career, was viewed as a father figure. He was encouraging and patient, or at least, up until my first day working as a fashion model. Then it had all changed. The angelic, Disney fairytale modeling world I had once been blinded by diminished and turned into a harsh, critical, toxic environment. It had become an environment full of sex appeal, potential eating disorders, and pushing one’s body to a limit unfeasible by most.
Later that day, I found myself in a cold, stark room flooded with natural light. The air was thick, and smelled of winter’s first snow. On one side was an entire wall of mirrors, glistening by the sunlight, and on the other, a table of agents and casting directors blackened out by the sunlight from behind. From the moment I walked from the doorway to the marker in the middle of the room, I felt all eight eyes piercing up and down my body like knives as they made their mental notes and judgments. Without hesitation, they requested that I strip down to my underwear so that they could examine my body to see if I was up to par to work in their fashion division. I heard feedback from them all, such as lose two inches here, gain five inches there, cut your hair, will you get any taller, and build up definition in your abdomen. I perceived it all as deconstructed criticism. I left feeling defeated and it would be impossible to meet their demands.
Afterwards, I was given a very disciplined diet and workout routine. Our in-house photographer wanted to run a test shoot to see how I moved in front of the camera. After a morning of havoc, I was terrified to continue. I was to be partially nude, so any flaw would be exposed and magnified on camera. Several creative directors were present as well as my agent, Jonathan, to ensure that I conveyed the emotions that they tossed my way throughout the test shoot. Knowing that they only anticipated perfection, I felt self-conscious to disrobe as I mentally prepared myself for the roars of criticism. Beads of sweat began to billow up on my temples as I stepped in front of the camera. Someone to my left turned on a fan, aiming it in my direction as it quickly cooled my body sending a blistering chill down my spine.
This was it. I took a deep breath and begun to move gracefully across the set frame by frame, being blinded by the continuous flash. Difficult to keep up (only having about three seconds between each shot), directions were shouted at me simultaneously by Jonathan, the art directors, and photographer, all battling one another to see whose voice would be heard. One would say to move right, the other would say move left, continuing to contradict one another throughout the session. Not knowing what to do, I was screaming inside at the top of my lungs. Pausing for just a moment, the voices began to blur together. I began to stiffen up and think to myself, “This is it. You are at the breaking point. Are you going to push through and succeed, or crumble up and fail?” I then found all the strength and courage in myself to block out what I perceived as personal attacks on my ability to model and preform.
Once I was able to take control deciphering their critiques, I realized that they are just doing their jobs. This is not personal; this is just business. Thousands of dollars are at risk during a shoot, and it is up to the model to portray the story envisioned by the client. I then began to treat my body as a temple. As a result, I began booking work as fast as the paychecks cleared.
I finally understood why my agents mentally broke me down. It was not to be cynical and mean, but it was to prepare me for the reality I was to face. Without that test shoot, I would not have known how to compose myself during a shoot with strangers. At many times models can take things personal and they allow it to affect them mentally and it then affects their ability to preform. The fashion world is a small community that keeps its doors closed tight. Not being able to compose yourself in such chaotic and hostile environments can result in dismissal and you may never be booked again carrying a bad reputation on your back. Because of this first day of work, I grew a backbone and the ability to keep my composure while under stress in a professional setting.
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