How’s the weather up there?

My inferiority complex turned me into a Supermodel

If you were a girl in the Gen-X era and you stood 5'11" by the time you turned fifteen, you will be considered unique. And in the Filipino culture, where predominantly women were not known to have a tall frame, the feature that made you stand out (literally) could create a positive or negative experience in your adolescence.

In my case, it was the latter. And my appearance did not help. Like any awkward teen, I wore braces, thick eyeglasses, and was every bit of the nerdy girl you would meet in school. I kept my hair short because it was convenient. And I was extremely thin and lanky because my weight was stretched by my tall frame. My classmates called me ‘Olive Oyl’, the cartoon character from the Popeye series. And to their defense, I did look a lot like her.

My classmates called me ‘Olive Oyl’, the cartoon character from the Popeye series. And to their defense I really did look a lot like her.

My height caught attention everywhere I went, from my school to the grocery, to church, and to any public place you could imagine. With each gaping stare, I would reciprocate by looking down on the floor with my shoulders all hunched back, as if this would lessen my frame by a few inches. This was my usual reaction from the age of eleven when I already stood out at five-six. And as I kept growing in the succeeding years, my despondency was getting worse. In my immature mind, being different created an awkwardness that manifested into an inferiority complex. I was embarrassed to be tall. I just wanted to hide and disappear or be invisible.

The Letter

However, there was an older schoolmate who saw me in a different light. His name was Raymond and he was an extremely talented gay fashion designer even though he was still in high school. Ever since I was a freshman, and through the next couple of years, I would catch Raymond’s gaze and it made me nervous. Because he was a prodigy and popular, I did not want to cause trouble with his attention. So I would often scurry whenever I saw him. One day, he approached me while I was sitting on the floor of an empty hallway with my nose in a book. I looked up and he started talking. He introduced himself and told me he was graduating that year. Then he handed me a letter and told me to read it carefully and to keep it for the future.

The letter summarized his thoughts about me. It explained why he had been observing me all this time. He said he empathized when I looked terrified whenever I was teased about my height. And he gave me words of encouragement by saying that my unusual feature was beautiful and it gave me the potential to become a fashion model. He then advised that no matter how painfully shy I was, I should open myself up to this possibility. If I was willing to give it a try, then all I had to do was call the phone number in the letter.

I kept his note because it was rare to receive a compliment from someone who was neither my parents nor my relative. I placed it in a jewelry box in my room. But I did not tell anyone about it. It did give me thoughts about modeling, but maybe for only ten seconds. After looking at myself in the mirror, I could not imagine how I could be the girl that Raymond was describing.

A Self-Inflicted Shell

When senior year came my parents shared great news. They were finally open to the idea of allowing me to pursue my collegiate studies in the United States. I kept requesting this for many years, but it felt like my plea fell on deaf ears. They were just waiting for me to graduate because they had strong concerns about my mental well-being. They saw my inferiority complex kept me inside a self-inflicted shell. If I was invited to go out by the few friends I had, I would immediately refuse. And if there was any possibility of being outside, I would avoid it at all costs.

So when Mom and Dad gave their blessing, I could not be happier. I had been spending summers in America since I was six years old to be with the paternal side of the family. And I was able to stay for a year as a seventh-grade exchange student. In America, my height was nothing out of the ordinary. And it was a faux pas to stare, not to mention rude. It was the only place where I was genuinely comfortable. Nobody gawked. No one made side comments or kept asking me, “How’s the weather up there?” No one paid any attention and I loved it. I was so ready to experience this kind of life, where I would no longer feel self-conscious.

When it was time to go, I packed my things and jetted 6,000 miles away to California. But I left Raymond’s letter behind.

The Transformation

The college classes had started and things began to change in my appearance and my behavior. I no longer wore braces and I stopped growing. I started to see some weight fill up my thin areas. I grew my hair long enough for a ponytail. And replaced my thick black spectacles with contact lenses. Since there were no more Catholic school uniforms, I began to take an interest in fashion. It was not hard to do with the abundance of fashion magazines and Hollywood personalities to emulate. And my new friends were all stylish. They encouraged me to pay more attention to my appearance.

Now things started to get interesting. It felt like a classic story of a talent scout discovering me in a shopping mall. At first, I thought there was no way anyone would be interested in hiring me as a fashion model. But because of my Asian features and my tall frame, there were a few successful castings. I did mall shows, hair shows, and fashion print editorials for newspapers and catalogs. It was good money for a teenager.

I was having such a great time with these new experiences until my parents told me I had to spend the summer in the Philippines to be with them and my younger siblings. I missed my family, but I was reluctant to return. What if my newfound confidence shattered once I see the stares I was accustomed to growing up? Will I crumble when people pay attention to my height? Or feel depressed when I am teased about it? The upcoming trip was making me anxious.

Facing the Fear

My Mom tried her best to lift my spirits. In a phone call, she was convinced that things were different now with my newfound confidence. Perhaps I could pass the time by trying to model in the Philippines. Then she told me she found Raymond’s letter in my room. She called him and they conversed about my upcoming visit and asked if I could still take up the offer he stated in his letter. Raymond was intrigued because he had not seen me since, and my Mom was bragging that I was already doing fashion shows in California. The two of them set a time for all of us to meet.

Within a day of my arrival, Mom drove me to see Raymond in his fashion atelier. While in college, he had become a prominent fashion designer and photographer. Raymond took a long look and told me I had bloomed as he predicted. He suggested that instead of trying out for fashion show go-sees, I should compete in the prestigious ‘Supermodel of the Philippines’ competition that would occur that month. I did not have a chance to think about it when he brought me to another fashion maven named Joey, who happened to live a few blocks away from his shop. Joey was one of the premier fashion show directors in the industry. He was known to discover and mentor Philippine top models and beauty queens. And he had a formidable reputation.

After we were introduced, Joey gave me a very intimidating head-to-toe scrutiny. Then in a serious tone, he asked if I was interested in the Supermodel event. The competition was in 3 weeks and it was fierce. The girls applying were already prominent models. They knew how to strut the runway and pose in photo shoots. Even with my experience in California, I was still very much a neophyte in comparison.

I did the unthinkable by replying, ‘Yes. I’ll do it.” In my mind I had grown tired of being anxious and afraid, resulting in most of my adolescent years being wasted. If the three people in the room — my Mom, Raymond, and Joey, saw the potential in me, then why fight it? I was going to believe in myself too. Besides, I did not have a better opportunity that would pass the time.

The Competition

Joey and Raymond mentored me in the days leading up to the competition. And it was grueling. Fashion shows and photography performances in Manila required a much more theatrical approach. I listened, learned, and practiced, with a tenacious mindset to absorb every lesson.

That must have been enough. Because at the night of the competition, I found myself in a mixture of emotions — from disbelief to happiness — as the head of the judges’ table, New York Ford Models director Katie Ford (the daughter of the famous model agent Eileen Ford) just declared me as the winner! It felt surreal. I remember returning to the hotel with my fellow contestants, celebrating at the after-party, and then waking up the following morning thinking it had all been a dream. But when I turned on the radio and the deejay said he was dedicating the song ‘Waiting for a Star to Fall’ to the beautiful girl who won last night’s Supermodel competition and he called out my name. I could not believe it. Overnight I had become a Philippine Supermodel!

The days that followed were photo shoots, TV interviews, and guest appearances. My fashion support system also grew as designers, makeup artists, photographers, and known models joined Joey and Raymond to help me prepare for the international competition — the Ford Models Supermodel of the World. The country representatives would be housed at the Beverly Hills Wilshire Hotel and it would be televised worldwide by the NBC studios in Los Angeles.

The event spanned two weeks and it was amazing. I was face to face with famous people, from models, TV actors, and fashion designers. My claim to fame would be a joint cover with Rachel Hunter. When she was introduced to the 50 delegates during a press event one of the photographers selected me to stand beside her for a shot. I was later sent a copy and it turned out to be the local paper’s Sunday magazine cover.

On finals night I stood in my glamorous pink Valentino gown and listened to Eileen Ford announce the winner. It was not me.

Birkenstocks and Catwalks

But the following day I felt I was given a consolation prize when they informed me that I had been signed by the Ford Models affiliate office in San Francisco called Grimme, the same agency that launched Christy Turlington’s career. And it could not have been more perfect since the agency was a bay bridge away from the University of California at Berkeley, where I was finishing my college studies.

In the succeeding years, I would spend my undergrad days living two lives — on most days I was a student donning Birkenstocks and sweats, trying to catch up with my school work. But when my agency calls, I transformed with makeup and a black fitted ensemble and jetted off to casting. I would do fashion shows and photoshoots in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York. In the summers I would go back to the Philippines and model some more.

After graduating, I expanded my modeling experience in Paris, London, Germany, and other parts of Europe. I tried Asia too, like Japan, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Malaysia. By now a few agencies were managing my career, like Stars Models, Elite Models, and CalCarries.

How’s the weather up there?

Years have passed but every so often I would ponder over this experience. It always brought a deep reflection on the impact of self-love and appreciation for one’s uniqueness. I was really in a dark and lonely place when I was younger. And in those memories, I often wished I could time travel and visit my teenage self to give her comfort and tell her all will be okay. Instead of abhorring what made her unique, she should value it and be grateful because it would become a great gift.

It always resulted in a deep reflection of the impact of self love and appreciation for one’s uniqueness.

Fortunately, I had relentless people who believed in me — my parents, especially my Mom, fashion mentors like Raymond and Joey, and many others. Like a broken record, they kept telling me what I had was special. And they never gave up trying to break the hard shell I built. Once I started believing in what they were saying, I saw the wealth of unimaginable opportunities in the experiences I went through and the people I met.

Every so often I will still get asked the question, “How’s the weather up there?” But this time I stand tall, smile, and reply, “It’s all good. It’s all very, very good.”