Confessions Part 5: The Real Model Life

By Agata Descroix – @agatacruz
An excerpt from her book – Confessions of An Autistic And Sexually Confused International Model

THE FASHION LOOP.

It’s amazing how you can quickly throw yourself in the fashion loop. At one point, you are living of that thing, you want to get as many jobs as possible and you drop the idea of finding another job. You want to get the best magazines and you want to open all the shows. You’re ok with people pulling your hair, putting all kinds of chemical stuff on your face, see you naked, adjust things around your body as if you were a piece of flesh with no feelings.

You are fine to wake up at 5:00 am and go to bed past midnight, take a nap backstage and eat crappy sandwiches while sitting on the floor (when you have a chance to eat). Everything is ok and the adventure keeps going. After almost ten months doing this job, I find myself in another state of mind. Still stressed, still goofy but something in me has grown. I just ignore what it is yet.

FEBRUARY 2013.
THIS IS THE REAL MODEL LIFE.

My plane took off and landed so quickly. I’m not used to those small trips anymore; I’ve only taken long plane trips lately. After a flea jump to Madrid, I end up in one of Aeromexico’s planes.

“Aeromexico buenas tardes. Vamos a despegar. Favor de mantener su cinturon abrochado y su silla en posición derecha.” The beautiful Latin hostess gestures the whole safety instructions and I sigh of relief.

That’s it. I am finally back home. Well, home without any house because I have to move to another place that I haven’y found yet.
I realize that I have no home, no roots. My life fits in one suitcase, and I am lost in the world like an orphan. Foreign people are my family and planes are my home. I silently cry, listening to my airport music playlist and looking at the vanishing light outside the steamy window. I feel totally alone on earth.

The flight is short, only ten hours. It’s fine now that have my fabulous Ipad. I desperately try to sleep but I can’t really and I move constantly. My neighbor’s presence makes me uncomfortable. The Italian woman in front of me screams because I am pushing her seat. I apologize and try to remain completely awake not to bother her.

I land in Mexico with spectacular dark circles, smelling like a pony after a race.

“I am in Mexico! My God, I will NEVER NEEEEVEEEER leave this place again!”

It’s 6:00 am. I rush to my boyfriend’s flat in order to put my suitcase in a safe place and check my emails. I have to be at 8:00 am in Glasgow* for a shooting. There he is, waiting for me at the door. My Mexican guy, the one I thought I was going to live my whole life with. I fall in his arms and cry. It’s hard for me to think that we are separated but no time to talk about it.

The taxi is here waiting for me and I grab a bottle of water and some almonds not to faint. My job is not so long fortunately, but I look and I act like a zombie. I have no idea what is going on and try my best to pose and move onset. The makeup artist is freaked out. He knew me happy and shiny and sees me sad, ugly and full of pimples. My legs are not even well shaved and I feel ashamed when the stylist adjusts the shoes on my ankle. This is model life. It’s not just emotionally horrible sometimes, it’s also physically hard and when you have a job, you have no option. You must be beautiful, nice, professional and friendly with no rest and no hope for tomorrow.

I am still living at the same place with my ex-boyfriend and I start to get used to my comfortable life once more. He doesn’t want me to leave and I am not finding the strength in myself to do it. Day after that, I am booked for a very good editorial. It’s a famous Latino magazine and I am happy to do some new material after so much time doing nothing. There is a video guy and he captures my face with delight, backstage and onset. I still have pimples on my cheeks and I feel a huge lack of self- confidence. Thanks God my skin is way better since I left Hong Kong. I am getting to know my body again and try to take care of myself.