this article is dedicated to Callidora, I really hope you can illustrate you a little.
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Supermodels
The word "supermodel" was first used in the 1940s, but the supermodel phenomenon belongs to the 1980s and 1990s, when a few women epitomizing glamour and opulence captured the American popular consumer's imagination. For most of the supermodel era, the pantheon included Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, Kate Moss, Claudia Schiffer, Linda Evangelista, and Christy Turlington--all of them tall, architectural, and distinctive in appearance--who represented both the triumph of unadulterated image and the mass marketing of fashion.
Models had been famous before--Suzy Parker in the 1950s, Twiggy in the 1960s, Christie Brinkley in the 1970s--but the supermodels were touted for taking charge of their own careers, marketing themselves assiduously, and commanding huge fees for themselves and their agents. They cast themselves in discrete roles: Crawford was the confident sexual one, Moss the waif, Schiffer the one who looked like Brigitte Bardot. Like most models, they tended to launch their careers in Europe, where the pay was relatively low but a girl (often as young as fourteen or fifteen) could accumulate photographs and develop a distinctive "look." Once in New York, the U.S. modeling capital, a girl hoped to sign or continue a relationship with a powerful agency such as Elite and Ford, where clients in search of an image looked first. The supermodels were lucky to enter the American scene at the moment in which fashion designers were changing their target market from the wealthy elite to the masses. When Calvin Klein began to advertise on television, billboards, and bus shelters, the subliminal message seemed to be that even common people and their clothes could attract attention; paradoxically, perhaps, his model Brooke Shields shot to celebrity (as, later, did his muse Moss). At the same time, Hollywood actresses had de-glamorized themselves; now that they were more inclined to appear in jeans and unwashed hair rather than in evening gowns and jewels, models stepped in to feed America's hunger for opulence, harking back to the glamour of stars such as Myrna Loy and Grace Kelly. Yet, perhaps because they had no real careers beyond posing, and didn't even select the clothes or products they would wear, the supermodels were able to represent a product, an image, completely--in this regard they were forums for display, not fleshed-out characters.
The individual supermodels themselves achieved name-brand recognition. Advertisers focused on the same six (and a few slightly less enduring lights, such as Elle MacPherson, Paulina Porizkova, and Tyra Banks) in part to show they could afford to: hiring Turlington for seventy-two hours at a cost of sixty thousand dollars was a good way for a company to display its success, confidence, and solvency. Models and supermodels alike made most of their money in advertising: Turlington's 1991 contract with Maybelline, for example, netted her eight hundred thousand dollars for twelve days' work a year. The more prestigious work, including magazine covers, was comparatively unremunerative--in 1995
Vogue, Glamour, or
Mademoiselle might pay as little as one hundred dollars a day--though the exposure did help establish a model as a commodity. But a woman who had achieved supermodel status never had to worry: in 1995 Claudia Schiffer, modeling's biggest wage earner, made twelve million dollars from various assignments. In the eras of Reaganomics and, later, recession, such well-publicized paydays were part of a supermodel's allure.
The wild and bratty behavior that often accompanied the models' sudden wealth was another element of their mystique; unleashed on New York, a number of them danced and drugged the nights away, and they were known for prima donna behavior such as sulkily kicking their limo drivers in the neck. Off the runway and out of the magazine, they lived larger than life, and the careers of many would-be supermodels ended in financial ruin and despair. Psychologists Vivian Diller and Jill Muir-Sukenick, both former models, explained in
Psychology Today that many in the business suffer from a "fragile personality that makes them potentially self-destructive ... what we call 'extreme narcissistic vulnerability.'" Without a secure sense of and liking for herself, argued Diller and Muir-Sukenick, such a young woman might easily fall prey to exploitative agents, clients, drug dealers, and others who prey on the young and attractive. Models' dissolution became a popular subject for articles, books, and movies, as audiences craved to see the girls consumed like the products they represented.
As it turned out, despite the supermodels' status, the public was interested in them as images, not as women. Though Campbell wrote a novel, and Crawford (who once referred to herself as "Cindy, Inc.") made TV specials and a movie, these attempts at establishing themselves as personalities largely failed. While some photographers and designers achieved respect and enduring fame as artists, their models, including the celestial six, were often considered merely a medium for expression. In the late 1990s, magazines started heralding "The Fall of the Supermodel," noting that reglamorized actresses were claiming many of the most prestigious modeling jobs and that consumers (in the words of superagent Katie Ford) had grown tired of "just seeing six people at the center of most magazines." Image was not enough to guarantee an enduring place in the popular imagination.