I was hoping to have a nice relaxing day working on my autobiography (King Karl, Better Than Yves. 7L Press, release date unconfirmed), and then maybe sketching a collection and doing some photos for something shoe-related. But no! Rumor got out of of the catfight between two certain models. Those web logs that people write have posted about it, so hmm. I suppose I better set matters right.
It's a little known fact that many models are world class fighters. Not simply cat-fighters, but world-class blood-and-guts fighters who could knock out any brute on the street. Under what you may perceive as "thin" frames, these models pack a mean punch. I'm serious. With one clenching of their well-kept fists they reveal more muscles than Alber's eaten cakes- there's some muscles there that the Body Part Naming Institute hasn't even named yet! (And by the way, did you see the article about darling Alber in the New Yorker? Delicious)
You have to be a good fighter when you're a model. Photographers, designers, hairdressers- they're all so very very dangerous. Photographers will screw you, designers will screw you over, and hairdressers will screw up your hair. If you're not careful all three will happen to you! I feel sorry for those poor models, about as young as a fetus, who don't know how to fight yet- when they're here for their first Fashion Week or somesuch. Of course, they will soon learn.
My problem with the catfight mentioned- (it wasn't much of a catfight, more of a tigerfight where the tigers are famished), was that it was in public. This is simply rude. Vulgar. Unacceptable. The first rule of model club is that you don't talk about model club.
A couple of blows were debt, a tooth or two lost. Hairs fallen out of place. Once I saw I broke it up. I simply put one fingerless-gloved hand in the air, and said "enough!".
And it stopped. They went back to their respective posses, to bitch among themselves.
Anyway. I will deal to these two errant models in my own way. I will not reveal their names, for their careers don't need to be ruined- I'm actually fond of one of them. But be reassured, public, this offence will not go unpunished. I am not a forgiving man. Forgiveness if for hippies with long hair who ride on donkeys for lack of a love bus. I ride on a broomstick.