The Supermodel Thief

A long, long time ago, when fashion was fierce and supermodels reigned supreme, I was fortunate enough to have been chosen to walk (stumble really, like a goof ball), down the runway, for some of the most legendary designers of that time (the 90s).

In those days, during “show season,” I would find myself in Paris or Milan, scrambling from one show casting to another—trying to walk in heels, trying to have great posture, and failing to do the all important 3 point turn.  What a joke.  At one point the legendaryJ. Alexander(America’s Next Top Model) even tried to teach me how to walk—shoulders way back, torso almost completely immobile, hips thrust forward, swinging from side to side. Mr. Alexander left my apartment in apparent disgust, due to my complete lack of coordination. It felt like he was embarrassed to be associated with me.  I never did have rhythm—not then and certainly not now (unless tequila is involved).

Helena Christensen, Claudia Schiffer, Linda Evangelista, Naomi Campbell, Eva Herzigova, Carla Bruni, Kristen McMenamy, Susan Holmes, Monica Bellucci, Kate Moss … oh the list of utterly cool women that I walked with during those days goes on and on … the “Who’s who of Fabulousness.”   Needless to say, I always felt like an imposter. Like, at any given moment, somebody was gonna shout, “Who let her in?”

The cut throat fierceness was de rigueur at all times, pre-show, during- and post- show season.  Inevitably, without warning, someone else would always show up and outshine me, out walk me and out cool me.  Fashion is fickle like that.

The out “walking” me bit was uncontested. I knew then, as I know now, my two left feet are here to stay.  The only option left was to pump up my “cool” level.

For a girl like me, being cool has always been difficult.  Being raised a Jehovah’s Witness, I grew up in a sheltered environment, i.e., no sleepovers, no Christmas, no birthdays, etc. … (That is another story.)   My background was the antithesis of the “Rock Chic” chick I had to become.

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