C Can you hand me a cookie?
C Do you think she (Rebel) can have some?
B Yeah! It’s just sugar.
C No, I need to break this habit.
B For you or the dog?
My friends and I have had countless conversations about the misunderstood aspects of our job. So I thought one day, I would record one. Last week, 2 of my best friends (Chloe Braaten, Mali Koopman) and I gathered in Mali’s Williamsburg kitchen to eat Wholefoods cookies and have a good old-fashioned yarn about our job: what we love, what we don’t, what confuses us, and the fact that we’re really just kids fumbling our way through this amazing and unpredictable industry.
I was chatting the other day with some women of a couple of different generations about this whole body image shemozzle. And we discovered just how important a person’s first encounter with their body image is.
When I got to Sayulita, things went quiet. Not really…it’s a pretty loud place. But things went quiet in my head. A lot of the noise in my mind kind of melted away, and I was able to focus on where I was, hear my own thoughts clearly and remember the true simplicity of this thing called life.
So, I know this sounds kind of weird, but bear with me.
As a model, sometimes, it’s not ‘cool’ to be pretty. The pretty girls get commercial work and therefore make money, but girls who are described as cool are the ‘weird’ or ‘edgy’ looking girls. It’s common for me to have conversations with models in which we discuss being too commercial or ‘too pretty’ for certain brands we love and want to work with. So it kind of tips a whole outlook on beauty on its head. A lot of the pretty girls want to be weirder, less ‘commercial’, more ‘editorial’. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wish my boobs were smaller, my body was more awkward and angular, my face more androgynous. It made me realise how much beauty really is determined by our environment, the system within which we operate.
I spent 18 years of my life trying to be conventionally ‘pretty’ – big eyes, long eyelashes, no eye bags, nice boobs, smaller circular ears, no pointy corners or gangly awkwardness. Now all of the elements of my body I didn’t like are the ones I’m trying to emphasise to be weirder and get more editorial work. After I left school, my boobs grew, my body took on more of the soft, feminine form that I so longed for, and now I look in the mirror and pray for sharper corners and a flatter chest. It’s kind of hilarious.
Turn off your Instagram notifications. It will change everything! So much time is wasted opening and closing the same image to see how many likes it’s gotten. If you turn off your notifications you eventually forget you’ve just posted something and get on with actually living your life. Now I post a shot, lock my phone and move on. Totally and utterly (depressingly) emancipating.