Catwalk Queen

by Cathy Hopkins

  Backstage our fifteen models were getting ready.

  ‘All set?’ asked Tanisha.

  I gave her the thumbs up. My team had been brilliant. Charlie on sound, Henry and JJ on lights, Meg, Pia and Alisha on costumes. Flo and I had worked with the models showing them everything we’d learnt from the contest about attitude, posture and walking.

  When everyone was in the hall, the lights went out and a murmur ran through the audience. No doubt wondering why they were sitting in pitch-darkness.

  Charlie replaced the music track with a CD that we’d made in the previous week of girls in our school answering a question that had been asked of them. Meg, Pia, Flo and I had collected all the answers over the last few weeks then edited them. Sound bite after sound bite. The question we’d asked them was how did they feel about their image and was there anything they didn’t like about the way they looked. The CD began to play.

  ‘I hate my ears, I look like a monkey.’

  ‘My bum is gross.’

  ‘I hate my shape. I look like a boy.’

  ‘I’m too top heavy.’

  ‘I have no boobs. I’d have surgery if I could.’

  ‘I hate my nose.’

  ‘I loathe my thighs, they’re way too big.’

  ‘My hair is a nightmare. Frizz city.’

  ‘My legs are too skinny.’

  ‘I have enormous feet, out of proportion to the rest of me!’

  We let it play for a few minutes. The lights turned up a little and I peeped out at the audience as the sound bites continued. The audience had tittered nervously at first then looked puzzled, still not sure what was going on.

  ‘God I hope this works,’ I said to Flo.

  ‘It will. It will be fine,’ she replied.

  ‘What gave you this idea, Jess?’ whispered Tanisha as the CD played on.

  ‘It was weeks ago. I’d been talking with my mates and we all had something we hated about ourselves. Tummy, bum, hair, teeth – just like the girls talking on the CD. I was amazed. I thought I was the only one who was down about my looks. So we went around the whole school with a recorder and asked, what don’t you like about the way you look? No-one hesitated in replying, even the most stunning girls.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Tanisha. ‘I never liked my butt.’

  Amazing, I thought, Tanisha looked perfect to me but like the rest of us, she had her hang-ups.

  As the CD continued, I checked to see if our models were ready, lined up behind me. They were.

  ‘Go,’ I said into my phone to Henry then I turned to the girls and beckoned them forward. Spotlights hit the stage as our girls walked out. All fifteen were dressed top to toe in grey lycra, no make-up, hair either tied or gelled back, each one of them wearing an exaggerated body part. Phoebe Miller from Year Ten was wearing enormous ears; after her, Lucy Green, Year Nine, with a prosthetic huge bum; Sally Cassidy, from Year Eleven, followed with big false boobs strapped to her chest; following her – Jackie Heller, Year Eight, with enormous feet; after her, Kassandra Taylor, Year Ten, with big hands; Tasha Booth, Year Seven, with an enormous nose; Alice Denton, Year Ten, with a huge padded stomach, I quickly donned a wig that looked like a bird’s nest. And so the soundtrack of answers continued:

  ‘My hair’s a frizzy mess.’

  ‘My hair’s too limp and I hate my teeth.’

  ‘I do NOT like my calves.’

  ‘I’m getting a bit of a belly because I haven’t any time to get to the gym! I also don’t like my belly button!’

  ‘I don’t like my double chin, it makes my face look fat.’

  The audience burst into laughter as the models paraded around, some of them making sad faces to go with the sad comments.

  ‘I dislike my stomach. Eugh. I hate how I get spots and am fat.’

  ‘I’m too skinny and my legs are like sticks!’

  ‘I dislike everything about myself.’

  ‘I hate to look at myself because I think I’m not pretty as everyone else.’

  ‘I hate how my skin is pale.’

  ‘I HATE my skin and my stomach. It won’t get flat no matter how healthy I eat or how much I work out.’

  ‘I hate my big nose.’

  ‘I feel I’m fat like a cow.’

  ‘I hate my weight, my nose, my teeth, my acne, my ears, my hair. Lots more. How long have you got?’

  ‘I don’t like my pale complexion. People often stop me and ask me if I’m all right. People call me the ghost.’

  ‘Give me that butt,’ said Tanisha as Lucy came off with the big bum. Lucy whipped it off and gave it to Tanisha who strapped it to her behind. I put on a pair of huge breasts. ‘Let’s go, girl,’ said Tanisha to me.

  The audience gawped in surprise as Tanisha and I trooped on. We did our best miserable faces and the audience laughed again. As we left the stage, Tanisha took off the plastic bottom and went and took her place centre stage, and a spotlight hit her. Like all our models, she was in plain grey lycra with her hair pulled back, but somehow she still managed to exude glamour.

  ‘Good evening and welcome,’ she said. ‘Tonight we’re looking at the idea of beauty. The voices you’ve just been listening to were those of girls here at this school. Seems no-one is happy with their lot. Too fat, too thin, too short, too tall, too curvy, not enough curves, I hate my hair, I hate my nose, my butt, my tummy. On it goes. We do what we can, don’t we, girls? We crash diet, we starve ourselves, have hair extensions, use straighteners, some even resort to plastic surgery and implants in a quest to find our perfect self but only too often, we feel we don’t make the grade – that we aren’t and never will be beautiful. And yet around the world, the idea of beauty changes from culture to culture, did you know that?’ She indicated a screen at the back of the stage and nodded at Henry and JJ who were positioned at the back of the hall behind the projector. The lights dimmed again and images began to appear on the screen from countries around the world.

  ‘In some cultures, to be big is a sign of wealth and health. The bigger, the better, the more beautiful,’ Tanisha read from my script as images of women in Mauritania appeared. ‘In Africa, the Kayan tribe women wear brass rings from the age of five – the longer the neck, the more attractive they’re considered to be.’ Images of women with elongated necks wearing numerous brass necklaces appeared. ‘This is also a tradition of the Pa Dong tribe on the Thai/ Burmese borders. To the Maori tribe in New Zealand, to have full blue lips is a sign of beauty and they tattoo their lips and chins. Odd you think? They may think the same about how we choose to paint our lips red or pink here in the West.’ Images of women from Maori with blue lips appeared followed by images of Western women with bright red lips. ‘In Ethiopia, women of the Karo tribe wear scars on their stomachs to attract husbands. These are just a few examples but enough to see that external beauty is an individual, subjective concept,’ Tanisha continued, ‘what one culture finds beautiful, another might find outrageous, weird, even ugly.’ Images continued on the back screen. Different countries, different styles. ‘And not even from country to country. Just look back at history in the West and we laugh at the fashions and what was considered to look good.’ Images from the past appeared, medieval times, Georgian times, pale ladies with wigs piled high on top. Image after image, showing changing fashions through time. Afro perms from the nineteen sixties, then hair that was short then long then short again.

  ‘The boys did a great job,’ Pia whispered as we watched. I nodded but we’d all contributed, sending Henry, JJ and Charlie images that we’d found and wanted included. JJ had been a star and been down in the VIP shed with us most nights selecting shots. He had a good eye and clearly enjoyed getting the show ready as much as the rest of us. We’d had three dates since he’d been back from LA. One to the movies, along with Vanya, his minder. One to a lovely restaurant in Holland Park, also with the minder. We’d tried to dodge him so that we could continue our first kiss but he kept appearing. It was more than his job’s worth to lose sight of J
J. For the third date, we got a takeaway and ate it in the VIP shed where we were finally allowed to be on our own. That was the best date and we talked until so late that Dad had to come and tell him to go home. We found we had so much in common although he had done so much more than me. I liked that. I felt I could learn from him as well as enjoy hanging out. We also talked about how we were going to be straight with each other about how we felt, no games, no pretending to be cool or indifferent. Best of all, we’d managed to kiss without anyone watching and whenever I thought about those times, it made my toes curl up.

  Out front of stage, Tanisha laughed as images of mad fashions from the seventies showed on the screen. ‘And how many times have we looked back at an old photo of ourselves and said, Oh my God. How could I have worn that! Look at my hair! I know I have. Fashion changes across the world as well as over time. But what is beauty? Is there a beauty that transcends both time and culture? Is there any hope for us girls who don’t fit the latest look put out by the media? And yes, I mean me too. I was the ugly duckling at school. Too tall. Frizzy hair. Knock-kneed. My big ole butt. I’ve been there, believe me. We asked the girls here at school what they thought beauty was and this is what they said.’

  The lights dimmed again. Charlie changed the CD to a gentle unobtrusive classical track and the voices of girls from the school corridors played across the PA again.

  ‘Beauty comes from within.’

  ‘Confidence in who you are is beauty.’

  ‘Whenever I think of beauty I think about inner beauty – because that’s the beauty that really matters, not how you look on the outside, all that’s pointless if there is no beauty on the inside.’

  As the girls’ voices played, Henry switched on the next slide show. We’d been up all night looking for the rights shots for this section of the show. The first image was of a group of Indian women laughing, then image after image followed of faces showing joy. All ages, all cultures. There was no denying the light in the women’s and girls’ eyes and faces and the beauty that shone from within. After that were images of faces looking tender, looking at a child with love, or a lover with care. I wanted to put these shots in because I didn’t want anyone to think that to be beautiful, you had to go around laughing like an idiot all the time. When my mum was dying, I met some truly beautiful people at the hospital. People who looked after her. And the look of care on their faces sometimes blew me away. It was truly beautiful.

  The girls’ voices continued. ‘True beauty is finding strength in difficult situations.’

  My favourite image flashed up. It was of Aunt Maddie sitting at my mum’s bedside though you can’t see Mum in the picture. I knew that when the photo was taken, Aunt Maddie’d just heard that there was nothing more that could be done for Mum, her sister. All Aunt Maddie felt is there in her face in the photo, an expression of such love and sadness as she looks down at my sleeping mother. Her spirit shining through.

  The slide show moved on to more images of women around the world.

  ‘Beauty is the way you think and how you express yourself. Your feelings!’

  ‘If you think of yourself as beautiful, other people will also notice it – because beauty comes from the inside.’ An image of a bunch of little girls all dressed for a party and looking proud as punch flashed up and the audience went, ‘Ah.’

  ‘I think beauty is being able to look at yourself and be perfectly happy with who you are. Being true to yourself.’

  A great image of a Japanese girl dressed eccentrically showed up.

  ‘For me, beauty is originality, eccentricity.’

  ‘A beautiful girl is someone who accepts her own body, her face, her nationality. Someone who can walk on the street with her chin up.’

  ‘Well, sadly, nowadays beauty is about a good haircut, a nice body, beautiful nails, cool clothing and make-up . . . but for me, a beautiful person is the one who’s a wonderful friend who’s always there for you.’

  ‘Beauty isn’t all about looks and how you put on your make-up on, it’s about personality and being comfortable with who you are as a person.’

  ‘When you see someone completely at ease with themselves and loving life that is truly beautiful.’

  ‘Trying to be someone you’re not, whether through clothes, make-up or personality, just doesn’t work. It just makes you look and feel superficial. But being happy in your own skin, in your own life, lets the real beauty shine through!’

  ‘Inner beauty is the most important! It doesn’t have to do with your physical appearance. Unfortunately, thousands of people don’t know that yet.’

  ‘Happiness is the most important beauty product in the world.’

  ‘Real beauty for me is love, whether it’s friendship or love between two lovers, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It runs much deeper than just physical attraction and a pretty face.’

  Quote after quote was played. I checked the audience. Many were nodding with agreement and approval.

  ‘I think you get the picture,’ said Tanisha with a smile. ‘And remember, you heard it here, folks. Girls, don’t waste your life wanting to be something you’re not. Taller, shorter, thinner, blonde, paler, whatever. There’s only one of you and you are just darn perfect. Unique. Don’t miss your life putting yourself down because you think you need to lose, or put on, half a stone. I say strut what you got. There’s only one of you. Celebrate that. Some of you may know that I’ve just mentored a modelling competition for the catwalk and we had many beautiful girls enter, but I’m so glad to be here too to see even more beautiful girls, girls who maybe don’t fit the catwalk mould but are lovely just the same in their own way. I want to celebrate them too. See, we all know what’s the truth deep down and the voice-over from the girls at the school here is testament to that despite the early answers about what they didn’t like. OK, you can wear a bit of gloss, you can wear a pretty outfit, enjoy the fashion shown to us in magazines, but we all know what makes someone truly beautiful. Deep, deep down you know it’s who you are inside. We know it so let’s live it!’

  Charlie flicked a switch and a funky upbeat track began to play. I checked to see if the models were ready again. They were. All lined up behind me. Chloe, the make-up artist from the previous show, had been a star and, as promised, had turned up earlier with a team. We’d discussed the look we wanted and the fifteen girls had been transformed from pale schoolgirls to bold, colourful warrior queens with dark eyes and gashes of colour on their faces.

  ‘What is beauty?’ Tanisha continued. ‘I know the world of fashion and beauty and it’s a wonderful world to work in. It is. It’s creative, it’s innovative and glamorous with some bright and fantastic people in it, but there are two sides, the good and bad. I also see girls starve themselves. I see girls have surgery. I see beautiful girls put themselves down if they gain a pound, they agonise about ageing. Believe me, what some of them put themselves through ain’t pretty and in real life, most of them don’t look the way they do in magazines. They get airbrushed to have flawless skin, cellulite is painted out, limbs lengthened to give this image of a perfect look we all aspire to and despise ourselves if we can’t make it but it’s not real.’

  The upbeat soundtrack began to play as Tanisha and the models began to strut the catwalk. We’d had two rehearsals how to walk, stomp, pow and they’d caught on brilliantly. Each was wearing her favourite party outfit. First was Lucy Green. Size sixteen, she was sassy and gorgeous. After her was Phoebe, a tiny girl but she owned that runway. She was followed by Jackie who was tall and skinny – she danced down the catwalk. A cheer rang out from the audience as they got what we were trying to say. Girl after girl walked out, all shapes, all the different nationalities we had at the school, all hair colours.

  ‘Are you going to go out again?’ I asked Tanisha.

  She shook her head. ‘This part is your show.’

  ‘There’s a great atmosphere out there,’ said Charlie as the girls came off to get changed into their casual out
fits. ‘At first, I thought everyone was going to laugh but I think they really get it.’

  When the final outfits had been shown, everyone went out on the catwalk together. I beckoned the team down from the back so Flo, Meg, Pia, Charlie and Henry went out as well to rapturous applause. Alisha and JJ stayed backstage. They had come to the show incognito because they didn’t want anyone getting wind of the fact that they were related to Jefferson Lewis and so steal the limelight. However, I noticed Alisha put on the orange wig, and JJ cracked up and put on another wig and some of the body parts. I got it. No-one would know it was them except the two minders who were also backstage. I beckoned JJ and Alisha to come out and even Tanisha couldn’t resist and came to join us. The girls began to dance and very soon the audience were on their feet too, even Mrs Callaghan, our headmistress.

  Result! I thought as I looked at the models. No-one excluded, everyone included and that’s exactly how it should be.

  The next morning, JJ was down having coffee with Charlie, Henry, Alexei, Pia, Flo and me and we’d been sitting around the breakfast bar munching muffins and posting photos from the school show on my laptop on Facebook. Flo and Charlie had got together at last. One night while working on the school show, Charlie had finally summoned the courage to tell her that he liked her. They’d had their first date last week and had a second one planned this evening. They both seemed so happy and right together at last. Flo had told Alexei she only wanted to be friends and he’d admitted that although he liked her, he hadn’t felt ready for a committed relationship, so they were totally cool with each other, especially when he heard that we’d all promised to invite him around when we were hanging out. He’d told Flo that it meant a lot to him to be part of a group of mates.

  The doorbell rang and Charlie went to answer. He came back moments later with a large bunch of white roses.

  I glanced over at JJ. ‘Thank you,’ I said.