I Was A Teen Model For Elite NY And Chicago: Why I'd Never Allow My Own Child To Do The Same

I was actively starving myself during the entire time I was a model, from age 15 to 18. I quit modeling at age 18, drove myself Canada then 4 months later checked myself into a mental ward for my eating disorder. I left modeling behind, but carried my eating disorder and body dysmorphia around for years afterwards.

When I was 15 I was a teen model with Elite. My face and body were my personal ATM.
The stuff I experienced was the usual: cocaine at parties, pressure from managers to starve myself, older men hitting on young models, and a crushing anorexia which permeated the entire scene. I fell victim to eating disorders and other unpalatable extremes that no one really talks about. When I lived in Tokyo at age 18, I lived in a closet-sized bedroom, packed in like a sardine with 2 other models. There was very little glamour involved. Money and commodification of young girls' bodies doesn't involve any glamour. Oh and by the way, if your daughter says she wants to model, please talk her out of it. It's largely a scam that might give you a disease, in the form of anorexia or drug addiction. There are better options nowadays. Just say no if you care for your child at all.

Anyway, I still have the photos.....here's my teen self. Notice how there is a strange sadness to all of them.

the flowers on the head trend never caught on.
There you have it.
I wrote extensively about my modeling experiences......maybe I'll copy them over here?

Here's an excerpt from my memory of my very first night in Tokyo when I was 18 years old:

On my first night in Tokyo, I received a call from my agent, Mimi.

She said she was taking me out to eat at a restaurant. When I got to the restaurant I was shocked to find a whole table full of models and businessmen. Mimi hadn’t mentioned that there were going to be men there. I thought I was hired to be a model, not a prostitute. I felt a sick, twisted feeling in my stomach when I arrived at the restaurant.

I was placed next to an Australian businessman named Alan Bond.

He told me he was Mr. Bond, the richest man in Australia and at the time, he was. I found him to be disgustingly pathetic, pompous, unattractive and old. He really loved talking about himself and tried very hard to impress me with tales of his obscene wealth. I was unimpressed. But I was also aware of the power dynamics. Mr. Bond owned me that evening. He had paid Mimi. Just how much, I never knew, but I had signed my life away in that contract. I had to do whatever Mimi said or else she’d send me back home to the States.

After talking with Mr. Bond for fifteen minutes, I could tell he wanted to fuck me. I immediately began plotting how to get away from this man who, in his words, “owned all of Australia.” After scanning the table for other models who were rebellious like me, I motioned to one and she came over to me. I suggested that we go to the dance floor for a bit. I expressed how freaked out I was that we had essentially been set up to be unpaid prostitutes for these bloated Australian tycoons. She was disgusted too, so we filled up on French chocolate tears, fruit and tea, then I told Mimi that we had to leave to meet some friends at a bar. I never found out if any of the models ended up having sex with Mr. Bond but I think one got really friendly with him. It was a disgusting experience.

Welcome to fucking Japan.

If you liked this, read the next chapter: The Modeling Industry Destroyed My Soul Part 2: THE YAKUZA

And just think, I was lucky because I was never raped. But others were not lucky. Remember Carre Otis from the Guess ads? She was raped by her manager in Paris. I made a video that describes my horror. She and I worked for the same agency, and it could have happened to me. I turned down the possibility of working for Elite in Paris.......the rapist-manager is pictured on the left and was married to Linda Evangelista. His name is Gerald Marie, and he walks free.