I had moved to London from Buckinghamshire within a year of being scouted by Premier Models. I had been told early on they wouldn’t be pushing me too hard for runway because at 5’9,” I’m on the shorter side for a model. I also don’t have the naturally slim build that is often required for catwalk shows. This didn’t worry me at the time and never has. I enjoy runway shows but they generally involve a lot of waiting around for very little pay, and the fun part is over in a matter of minutes. In the States they don’t even hand out champagne to settle pre-show nerves, because if a model is the legal drinking age they should have already been put out to pasture.
Runway shows and castings also make you feel incapable of walking properly, which can bruise one’s ego. When placing a foot down in front of the other becomes intensely difficult, it’s embarrassing to admit, especially when you do it every day without resembling a drunk toddler. When agencies set up “classes” to show new girls how to walk, they always say, “Just walk like you do when you’re walking down the street.” I have no idea how I walk down the street, maybe I skip when I shop, perhaps I have a limp? I could strut my stuff like a civil servant at the Ministry of Silly Walks for all they know. But I do understand the necessity of practice. Fashion shows are high pressure events, integral to the industry, and are complicated productions that require accurate timing and choreography. Preferred runway behaviour can also vary depending on city and designer, which I promise can be more complicated than it sounds. I love the buzz and the excitement surrounding a show, but as a human being it can be rather distressing realising a large part of your job really does involve overcoming your fear of turning left.
My most embarrassing runway moment was during a showroom event for Stella McCartney’s, Chloe. Fashion designers will sometimes reveal new collections at smaller shindigs with only press and important players in the industry present. At one such event in 2003 I was booked along with three other models to display the new line. The store in London was set on two levels, we changed on the lower level then ascended the stairs to the waiting crowd, walked throughout the showroom and back down the stairs. Now a staircase is never a good addition to a runway. I have actually witnessed a girl fall face first down a full set of stairs during a show and it’s not pretty. So we were all busy worrying about tripping over as we worked our way through the numerous outfit changes. This was one of my first “shows” and I was getting more and more excited every time I saw the crowd. The clothes were beautiful, I felt confident, these people were VIPs, it was amazing, I was a proper model! The fourth outfit I put on was a skirt and loose fitting, low cut top combo. I thought it looked good, but when I walked up the stairs everyone’s mouths dropped. I strutted about the room feeling fantastic, everyone’s widened eyes were on me, this was obviously the outfit equivalent of the man of the match.
It was only when I was coming down the stairs that I looked down and saw why I’d caused such a stir. My left breast was fully exposed. I’d just walked around a fancy store filled with important people with one of my boobs hanging out. The top had caught at the side and for some reason I hadn’t felt an icy chill on my bare nipple. Fuck! I went bright red and started to sweat, and I still had three outfits left. I had to walk back up there after flashing half of the fashion world. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t look anyone in the eye as I was forced to do the rounds over and over. I saw the odd face trying to give an encouraging smile but then a group of girls would burst out laughing when I passed by and I wished I could throw myself down those stairs. I have never left a show so quickly. I ninja’d it out of there with barely a thanks for having me, running to the tube station battling the flashbacks. My career was obviously over.
Though when I think back, I still managed to grab a goody bag on the way out. Even in times of crisis a girl’s got to keep her priorities in order.
meat puppet 