“All About That Model LYF: June 2010” on The Style Con

muirmodelsThe following is an excerpt from my piece “All About That Model LYF: January 2010” as seen on The Style Con:

The job is in a department store. When I get the call sheet I know it will involve rich people drinking cocktails and me standing on a wooden box wearing clothes I cannot afford. Yet. Clothes I cannot afford, yet. I tell myself I will one day be able to justify the purchase of Saint Laurent and Prada even though I have witnessed firsthand what a ridiculous thing said pursuit is. “Pretty clothes. Empty souls.” A friend once told me that.

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“TKO: Relationship Round Two” on Lady Clever

CLAY LISTONThe following is an excerpt from a piece seen on Lady Clever:

They’re standing in the corner of a darkly lit room, two older men in the same v-neck cardigan pulled over a button-up shirt — the financier’s uniform. “Jenny Bahn,” I hear from the taller of the two, the one with the blue eyes and the salt-and-pepper hair. Jeh-nee Bahn. My name delivered in a slight Spanish accent and the winking familiarity of someone you’ve been naked with once. I haven’t seen him since last April, back when we spent the weekend at a sprawling estate somewhere in the Hamptons with a university professor, a celebrity journalist, and a model from Germany. Because of what did or did not transpire in the weeks following, I’m not supposed to like him.

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“That Time I Got Blown Off for Someone Born in the ‘90s”

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The following is an excerpt from a piece seen on Lady Clever:

Marco’s brought me over here on the pretense of meeting a dude. “You’ll like Nicholas,” he says. “Right up your alley.” In my “right up your alley,” Marco means slightly Nordic looking, probably hairless, and sporting the type of under-eye bags that you only acquire by ambition-induced stress or a drug problem, likely a combination of both. Marco knows me well enough; my tastes have become disgustingly predictable, self-induced misfortune honed like a craft over the last four years. Give me someone broken and striving and I will give him my heart.

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“I Regret Everything I Ever Said About Modeling. Maybe.” on Lady Clever

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The following is an excerpt from a piece seen on Lady Clever:

Over the last six years, I’ve done my fair share of complaining about modeling. The weird bones that have presented themselves on my feet because of shoes three sizes too small, the pinching and poking and general forfeiting of my person, the girls with putty brains and mouths filled with nothing: It’s all been annoying, and I’ve been pretty vocal about it. Comments like, “But you could do this forever!” have been met with a lot of eye rolling and “Dear God, no thank you.” I carried around a chip on my shoulder because I wanted to come off as something better than a model, a person not just complacent with being nice to look at–maybe. It’s hard to say how much of my outward disdain for the business is about genuine irritation or obligation to play the straight and narrow, work hard for a good life instead of having it being handed to you. Because over the last ten years, I’ve been handed plenty.

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“What Katy Perry Taught Me About Life” on Lady Clever

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The following is an excerpt from my piece “What Katy Perry Taught Me About Life” as seen on Lady Clever:

I resisted. For a long time. To the tune of nearly six admirable months. Maybe it was the derivative trap beats, the three-years-too-late dubstep references, the forcefully languid drag of the background vocals. Maybe it’s because I’m a snob. But after a mere ten decidedly assaultive seconds, I declared Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse” utterly unlistenable, never affording to hear it out in its entirety… until I was driving in my car last week and I accidentally caught the song on the radio, right in the middle of its thumping, sort-of-predictably soaring hook…

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