Fashion's Dirty Secret

This is old news, but I've only just heard about it now. The man pictured above was found guilty of 16 counts of sexual assault, battery, and lewd acts. He was a fashion photographer who - you guessed it - routinely raped the young models who were to be his subjects.

What's shocking is that the media barely covered this. What's shocking is, when people found out, they were not surprised by the rape - but by the fact that the models came forward.

Fashion has been accused of many things - promoting unhealthy body image, racism, child labor. It's now being said that the industry did it's best to cover up this empowering story of young women standing up for what's right - career be damned - and winning a rape trial! Fifty-nine years is something to celebrate. This conviction could've been used as a platform to empower other models to come forward. Often the girls are afraid of the ramifications if they speak up - after all, fashion is a small world, and there's always a new 'face'.

When I was working in PR, I used to host model castings. Some of my friends asked if I would conduct the castings viciously (as is the stereotype) by calling out their flaws. I remarked that I was always positive with each young girl and that I often wanted to mother them a bit. While I was only 23 at the time, some of these girls were barely 14. When I think of what some young models have endured, especially in light of this article, it makes me so sad. I remember being 16 and being asked to model, which my mother (having been a model herself) expressely forbade. I was angry at the time - but now I am so thankful.

As discussed in The Guardian article, there are some models who are moving forward with efforts to unionize or at least provide support for young girls under this kind of institutional pressure. It's sad but true - the fashion world won't change unless the models band together. This conviction was a great first step. Media, take note!

*scorpio*

Rubik Cubed

My favorite streetwear looks from Model of the Moment Anja Rubik. Get inspired here

*scorpio*

Lovely Bones

"I love this" a man says to my friend in SL a few weeks ago. He reaches out and touches her jutting collarbone.

It's a line all New York women know. Despite what the magazines will have you believe ('perfect at any size' or 'he loves your curves'), the Manhattan man likes his woman to look like -if not, be- a model. Upon moving here, he's been subconsciously re-educated regarding female beauty. After all, models are everywhere in this town. They're glamorous, and skinny as hell.

Working in the fashion industry, it's inevitable that I have model friends. I lived with a model friend of mine for about a year, and never saw her eat more than a rice cake or sugar-free popsicle. She honestly never had a full meal. Another of my friends just recently scored an editorial in British Vogue. She talks wistfully about what it will be like to no longer be hungry. She often says, "I'm going to move back to Paris and have babies and get fat!" She's on caffeine pills most of the time.

Being skinny in New York is a status symbol. It means you're rich enough to work hard on your body and strong enough to withstand the siren song of carbohydrates. There’s a superiority that comes with rocking leather leggings and being a foot taller than everyone else, and men have become big believers. It’s almost as if, the thinner the woman on his arm, the more powerful he is.

It’s obvious the beauty bar has been raised. I was chatting to a guy last week who has a crush on my friend. I said, “Oh yeah, she’s super gorgeous!” He replied, “Well, I wouldn’t call her gorgeous… but she’s definitely cute.” Ouch. Saturday night, I was sitting with another male friend of mine at Lavo, and we were checking out the crowd. Every woman he selected was almost otherworldly in her beauty and thinness. It’s almost as if, if you don’t have perfectly chiseled cheekbones and a visible six pack, you’re un-dateable.

It’s a phenomenon that women are not comfortable acknowledging. After all, these days ‘size acceptance’ is a common phrase, referring to our more zaftig sisters. The magazines and women’s literature will have you believe that he loves your curves and doesn’t even know what cellulite is. The truth of the Manhattan man is harder to swallow. He knew what cellulite was in college… and he’s developed very clear ideas about what constitutes femininity in the years since moving here. He likes the space between a woman’s thighs. He prefers a six pack to hips. He takes yoga to watch the ‘yoga butts’. And breasts? They confound the Manhattan man.

Our modelized island creates a specific breed of body dysmorphia – especially when compared to high school friends, settled in suburbia. I was just going through Facebook with an old friend of mine a few weeks ago, and even the thinnest girls in high school had put on at least a good 30 lbs (and I’m from a very thin state). Then I realized, I’ve lost weight since high school. I am close to the thinnest I’ve ever been as an adult – but it still doesn’t feel like enough. I am perpetually chasing 'those last 5 pounds’.

As long as I live in Manhattan and work in fashion, I will believe that perfection is obtainable.

After all, it's sitting just one table over.

*scorpio*