Pretty Women, Ugly Business

John Robert Powers was a dark, handsome man but a lousy actor, as he was the first to admit. So around 1915 he took a job as a bit player and wardrobe boy with impresario Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, the Shakespearean actor, in his touring theater troupe. Powers’s acting skills eventually won him a job as assistant business manager. When Tree closed his company, the scarcity of parts for a man with no talent became a problem.
Then, one day, a man approached Powers about posing for a photograph with silent screen star Mary Pickford. Powers showed up at the appointed time and place three days in a row. Pickford never appeared. But Powers, $30 richer, had experienced nothing less than an epiphany. He found another commercial photographer who needed a model. Although he had a long, sharp nose, thick eyebrows, and thin lips, it didn’t seem to matter.
It was the Damon Runyon era, when urban fables embellished their way from the Great White Way into history. So almost every account of the birth of the John Robert Powers agency differs from the last, sharing only hyperbole and an apocryphal quality. But a sketch emerges nonetheless of how Powers invented the modeling business. By the most likely account, in about 1921, Powers showed up for a job with a photographer named Baron Adolphe de Meyer. The baron worked for fashion magazines and clothing manufacturers. He asked Powers to round up seven more men to work in an ensemble. “I got them for him and then he kept asking me to get him some more,” Powers said. The job was easy because “most of my friends, like myself, were actors, and again like myself, they were what is laughingly known as ‘resting.’”
These were the days when two-reel silent films were produced in a small circuit of studios stretching from South Brooklyn to Fort Lee, New Jersey. Out-of-work thespians would loiter in front of the Palace Theater in Fort Lee, hoping for work. Powers knew them all, and soon his pockets were overflowing with their phone numbers. Photographers began calling him instead of advertising for models. “I seemed to be able to get in touch with people more readily than anyone else,” Powers said. “Bit by bit I seemed to be assuming the proportions of an extra’s clearing house. But this was all unconscious. I didn’t have the business sense to see the possibilities.” Finally, though, “a great light smote me in the face. If I was becoming so useful, why couldn’t I become useful to myself?”
Powers credited Alice Hathaway Burton, his wide-eyed Kewpie doll blond wife, with hatching the idea of a model agency. “There must be lots of commercial photographers looking for models,” she told him. “And we know dozens of actors and actresses out of work. Why can’t we find a way of bringing them together?”
So Powers “had their pictures taken, made up a catalogue containing their descriptions and measurements, and sent it to anyone in New York who might be a prospective client—commercial photographers, advertisers, department stores, artists,” he recalled. “There were not more than 40 people listed in that first catalogue,” which was published in 1923, “but the idea was a new one. While I had started with the idea of supplying a demand, I began to realize that I was creating one.”
A lucky break with real estate helped, too. “John lived in an old brownstone over a speakeasy just off Broadway then,” a friend of his remembered. “That was the humble beginning of the modeling industry.”
Humble beginnings end as a monstrous beast. A simple idea of connecting people who are looking for each other for a mutually beneficial relationship sounds like a good thing; the people who make the connection should be thanked and praised. But then we have a story from another wide-eyed blond, Ashley Arbaugh, a former American model-turned-scout who specializes in finding Russian girls for work in Japan, and her latest discovery, 13-year-old Nadya Vall, both of whom are the subject of Girl Model, Ashley Sabin and David Redmon’s new documentary, which debuts on PBS on March 24. The film offers a stinging critique of one of the industry’s shadowy quarters — the threat of exploitation, unfair contracts, and poor working conditions — a problem that spans the industry, even in places where you wouldn’t expect: Italy, Paris, New York.
Since Powers’ inception of the idea of an agency, it seems the image of how a woman should look, ideally, is far from normal, average or healthy. Sure, there are the few that genetically do look like that, but there’s also the dark, unspoken side of eating disorders and negative feelings that young girls — and I mean 13- and 15-year-old girls — live with every day of their lives, under the assumption that this is all okay.
Do a couple of debates on the weight issue change anything? Do a few model deaths due to downright starvation really change the faces we see on the runway and in magazine ads? Will a couple of ‘voluptuous’ mannequins in H&M open our eyes to modeling’s demise? No. And definitely not. Because for each model lost, there are ten new ones lining up waiting for their chance. A fashion show with average girls wouldn’t be a ‘show,’ and that photo of the mannequins caused controversy of viral proportions, highlighting the sheer abnormality of what’s deemed normal in fashion. Fashion is meant for escape. When we bring it too close to reality, when we make it normal, we kill it.
It’s a problem that has no easy solution. It is deep-rooted and psychological. It has been this way for decades. At the end of the day, isn’t everyone just really bored of it?

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