As a teenager growing up in Walsall I wasn’t aware of ‘fashion’ the way young girls are today. I read Just 17 avidly but my style aspirations were either very local (certain looks worn by the cool girls at schools) or pop-stars.
At my school, you were either a raver and wore designer trainers or a greebo (a goth minus the attitude) and as Kurt Cobain was my idol, I fell into the greebo category. We cared about which laces we wore on our DM boots, tie-dye T-shirts or going to the market to pick up tattered velvet jackets and ripped jeans, not the latest must-have handbag from a celebrity magazine.
Because of my height and features, I did stand out and I fought the whole time to stay looking normal. Teenagers can be the harshest critics and no one wanted to stand out. When I rocked up to school in my DM boots and stripey tights, the boys called my legs golf clubs.
For me the joy of fashion is that it is so quick and transient and moves so quickly, but then at the same time, one thing I dislike is that you’re dismissing new designers before they’ve even had the chance to establish themselves and you’re on to discovering the next thing. Our high street is the best, I love the creativity and energy but there is also a synergy between what they produce and the catwalk. Let’s just say that a “lot of inspiration” is taken from the catwalk.
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One of the most liberating things was when I cut all my hair off. I was in Brazil with the photographer, David Sims and the hairdresser Guido on a Harpers Bazaar shoot. It was such a release. I went from having long hair that I used to hide my features behind to have nothing. All of a sudden people were saying, “you’ve got to show off your neck more or your nose” and that was strange because for such a long time, I’d been trying to hide those features from the world.
There are far more models working today than when I started. In some ways they have it easier because the industry is much more regulated but more importantly, there are more opportunities and there is less pressure on having an obvious, straightforward aesthetic. Everyone is more open minded about letting a model’s character shine through. Take Lily Cole; she isn’t your stereotype beauty but she has the chance to really express her personality. It’s something that is encouraged by designers such as McQueen or John Galliano. I’d never have been a model 15 years ago, there’s no way I would have made the grade.
The confidence I have gained from being a model has allowed me to take up challenges I would never have done otherwise. I love doing the couture shows. It’s like a performance art. It’s educational to take up a role and then enact whatever it is you have to do. It’s harder sometimes than being an actress as at least they get direction whereas models receive very basic direction. There’s the thrill of adrenalin as you only have one chance to get it right. I love that spontaneity but I love the freedom you have to interpret things for yourself and put your own mark on it.
The response from the Marks & Spencer campaign has been great. People used to moan that I never smiled and looked miserable but I can’t do a forced, half smile. If I was genuinely smiling (as I do in real life) in an ad, I’d look like a deranged Jack Nicholson playing the Joker. The TV campaign was the chance to see me messing around and being more spontaneous.
There’s a huge difference between being photographed and illustrated. As much as I enjoy posing for a photograph, what I love when I’m drawn by the illustrator, David Downton is that he loves “long” and “wrong”. He has a tendency to celebrate features that photographers hide so he will celebrate my crooked nose, the length of my arms, my feet and my neck. He’s very perceptive.
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Erin O’Connor was talking to Carolyn Asome