You Only Get One Life by Brigitte Nielsen Read Free Book Online Page A

and this was the first time I hadn’t had to settle for buying clothes in the sales. Back in the ‘70s there’d been a brief period when these square-flared trousers had been popular. I finally got a pair two years after they peaked and I looked like a joke. Now I not only had some money but the fashion industry was becoming my world and I knew exactly what to buy.
    I savoured the whole experience. No longer a window-shopper,I walked into one of Copenhagen’s top stores, ignored the sale rack and took my time over the latest range of blouses. Quite a few of those first cheques went on clothes and shoes. I bought more than I needed: buying was proof that I was successful. None of those bitches who had made my life a misery at school would have ever thought I would get so far. It was like saying, ‘See! You made fun of me, but look who’s wearing the clothes now! Look who’s walking the walk.’ I felt slightly drunk with it all. They’d teased me mercilessly and now I was making more money than their parents. Revenge was a dish best served with a designer label.
    I was walking at my full height when I went out with my mother in the centre of Rødovre, where I’d been used to being laughed at. I was, to be honest, probably a total pain in the ass – I must have been impossible. I’d got it and now I was flaunting it everywhere. But looking back, I forgive myself because it was a feeling that had been a long time coming and was well-deserved, though I do feel sorry for everyone who had to put up with me.
    My new world was in complete contrast to everything that had gone before. It was almost comical. Now I couldn’t be tall enough – the magazines even had me in high heels to make me look that bit higher. My skinny body wasn’t a source of amusement, but something to be admired and desired. Had I not been so thin, the agency told me, they would never have signed me up. I’d never seen it as an asset at all and I had never done anything to make sure I was thin – I’d actually been trying to put on some weight because I felt so embarrassed about being under-developed. In my lastschool I wore three pairs of trousers in an attempt to make myself look like the other girls of my age. Pulling them all on was always time-consuming and uncomfortable but I was desperate to make up for the lack of shape I was now being told was my best feature.
    Other girls suffered with horrendous diets to keep their weight down and I came across eating disorders everywhere I went. What I naturally had and hated for so long they were desperate to emulate. I did have some symptoms of anorexia at times in my career as a result of being naturally thin but some of my girlfriends in the modelling world have never overcome their disorders and a few have died as a result of anorexia.
    All of us were on the borderline of what the World Health Organisation (WHO) defined as malnourishment. They applied this definition to anyone with a BMI (Body Mass Index) of under 18.5 in the developed world or under 15 in Africa. A model of 175cm weighing 56 kilos would have a BMI of 18.2. In the fashion world that was normal and considered quite sane. Most of the models in my time were closer to having a BMI of 15 – and that’s when you start risking your life. But I never thought about it at the time and I maintained my weight without the endless miserable diets and strange lives of regular girls in modelling. I felt good, I looked good and the agency told me they had big plans.
    Marianne Diers had signed me in Gråbrødre Torv to Copenhagen Models, but they had global connections. They worked very closely with Elite Models in New York owned by John Casablanca. ‘We have a fantastic new girl in Denmark,’ Marianne told him. ‘Her name is Gitte and sheis ready to go all the way to the top.’ She sent pictures of me to New York and John gave me the thumbs-up.
    Their idea was to give me a flavour of how modelling worked internationally by getting me to make