So it turns out I’m never going to make it as a model. According to veteran designer Karl Lagerfeld, enduring sexual assault might as well be part of the job description. In an interview with Numéro Magazine, Lagerfeld declared himself “fed up” with the #metoo movement:
“I read somewhere that now you must ask a model if she is comfortable with posing. It’s simply too much, from now on, as a designer, you can’t do anything. […] If you don’t want your pants pulled about, don’t become a model ! Join a nunnery, there’ll always be a place for you in the convent.”
This comes as a disappointment. I would do anything for expenses-only payment with the odd sample thrown in, but I draw the line at pant-pulling. I’m brushing up on my Catholic theology forthwith.
Obviously it’s the industry’s loss, but there were always other factors working against me. For instance, I’m 42 years old, 5’1” and currently at a non-osteoporosis-inducing weight. Plus there’s the fact that I’m a mother of three who likes Quavers. In an earlier interview Lagerfeld damned those who criticise the fashion industry’s obsession with thinness as “fat mummies sitting with their bags of crisps in front of the television”. That’ll be me, then. The fashionistas will have to pry my light curly potato snack from my cold, dead, orange-stained hand.