The Life Of The Male Model

Say you're incredibly handsome. Say you have no talent to speak of (other than walking in a straight line without pitching over into a gully). Say you possess such an absence of character that you are considered to literally be a living blank canvass just waiting to be draped in all manner of fashionable expressions of art. Say you possess these unique, oh let's call them, qualities. What's the job for you? What will your career be? What will you do with your life?

WHY, YOU CAN BE A MALE MODEL!!!

Let's look, shall we, at the fabulous life ahead of you:

Sure, you're standing around in the middle of the street with a bunch of other dudes dressed up like if JC Penney's cost a million dollars, but... hey... that's a street in Paris! Fancy! You've always wanted to travel, right? Trust me, you've always wanted to travel. Have many, many Adderall.

What's that? You forgot your pants? That's okay! You don't need them!

Pantsless cowboys are in this year. It's very Brokeback Mountain but without the dignity and emotional heft. I'll explain to you later what dignity is. Actually, no I won't. Champagne?

And look, it's even okay if you're ugly. As long as it's quirky ugly:

Ginger Emo Phillips from Asia is a look we can use. We can even do wonders with High School Science Fiction Nerds, provided there's enough wallet chain to work with:

Ah... isn't he glorious? His hair is so pouffy and strange, his skin is so pale he's like a walking bike reflector. See, quirky. So you've got options. Stop eating with your hands!

There's excitement in the world of male modeling, too. It's a world of make-believe and dressing up, of enchantment and wonder and, here, have a few more Adderall. Hey... have you ever wanted to be a robot cowboy from the future?

Or an Easter version of Boys II Men?

How about a heroin addict Edwardian prince?

Yes, you can live out your wildest fantasies as a male model. Or at least the wild fantasies of others, which is almost as good. Now, granted, it's not always going to be late-night disco parties in Milan or cocaine snowball fights in Brazil. There will be low points. You will have long, dark nights of the soul.

I don't want to scare you, but you should hear the truth... at least once... before you make the life choice of being a male model. Know this, okay; though the hotels you stay in will be extremely fancy, though they'll have bathrooms that look like marble visions of a plumbing-themed Utopia, the showers there will not clean off you the sticky shame that comes from occasionally wearing stuff like this:

I don't know. It's some kind of Nuns of Satan thing crossed with a combat-ready Chippendale's dancer. The point is, it's not all nice suits and fun hats. Sometimes it's work, and by "work," I mean, "you, looking like a fool times a million, loaded into a rocket launcher and fired at the heart of the sun where you explode in a fireball that looks like your father crying and wondering where he went wrong, dammit, he wanted you to be a lawyer!"

Oh and also... one last thing... it won't last forever. Your pretty skin is going to wrinkle. Your hair is going to thin out and turn grey. You, sir, are going to get old. I know, it's scary. But hey, you never know; maybe shoplifting bottles of Maalox and newspapers while dressing up like a wealthy Amish elder will come back into style.



The key is to never, ever forget how to walk down a runway, stop, gaze out blankly into the dark abyss that you instinctually know is the audience but might as well be what's left of your soul, turn back around, and walk away. Always practice that. Old models will one day be ironic and then, oh yes, your time will come again.

But that's to worry about later. Right now... ah, the world is your oyster. You are gorgeous! You are devoid of emotions! You have so many illicit substances in your system, you're practically the second coming of Pablo Escobar's fortune! You're ready to live the life of the male model, kiddo. Grab it with both hands and don't let go.

Francois, strike a pose to close it out!!!

Yes... that's it... oh, that's amazing... Work it, Francois. Work it. You magnificent male modeling douchebag, you.