Strike a pose

I am fascinated by models. Utterly and completely fascinated. I watch all those shitty supermodel shows, mostly because some of those girls are wonderfully catty and horrible human beings but also because damn models are fascinating. I mean they sell themselves, their bodies are a commodity used in order to sell clothes. I remember when I was younger and read awful magazines there was an interview with a girl who was a part-time hand model. If she broke a nail she was out of a job and it was just so insane. I read a model's livejournal pretty religiously. Most of it is pictures of crazy food she has eaten or odd products she finds (she's in hong kong). I found her because her boyfriend beat her up and there were links to it everywhere as she posted her bruises and ranted angrily about how he was an idiot. I was only interested because he was a member of the shins and I knew her name from watching terrible model shows. I always liked her, she talked a lot of nonsense and had a sense of humour. Also she has pope socks and I am always a supporter of girls in socks. See also this girl I found once whose socks I covet. Sometimes I think it is the reason I remain friends with a certain chestily endowed friend of mine, her sock collection is rather pretty.

But yes models. I collect interesting adverts because I don't give a shit about what they're selling, it's just damn interesting photography. And it's that sort of tall, skinny androgynous thing that is so oddly sexual and yet utterly unattractive. I can't explain it. My first best friend, who I idolised and though she lied almost compulsively I believed every word she ever said to me until I hit about fourteen, modeled for a little bit, nothing big but she did minor runway things for young collections. This is really rather irrelevant I just had a flash of her. I remembered she existed. Huh.