There’s no sign-in sheet. Which is bad, you know, because there’s already about forty-five girls here, all in roughly the same make and model: thin, tall, mostly blonde and usually Russian. A familiar hum of all-too-familiar conversations buzzes in between walls the color of radioactive tangerines. “It’s from Miami,” someone says. “What did you do last night?” asks another. “We’re not that young anymore!” quips a blonde on the couch, at least six years younger than myself. All the girls around her laugh in dumb chorus.
The following is an excerpt from my piece “Lera Tribel: From Nada to Prada,” as featured on The Style Con:
In our ongoing series, From Nada to Prada, we explore the transformative power of a hair switcheroo, as seen in the competitive world of Model Land, where an agency-mandated bang cut or a bleach job can make the difference between booking a Prada campaign or slaving away in the gray ether of e-commerce for the rest of your livelong days.
As early as November last year, Lera Tribel was an unknown at Next Models, languishing on their board with heaps of other young, foreign, pale-skinned, dishwater blondes. (If you want to be just another dishwater blonde in this industry, you better have a face like Natalia Vodianova. That face could cure cancer; it’s that perfect.)