We met on our flight to Paris. We were both students on our way to study abroad. Most of the students were sitting on the other side of the plane. You and I were seated next to each other, completely isolated from everyone else.
As we got to talking, you told me (within the first 5 minutes) that you had been a model with one of the biggest model agencies in New York. I looked at you, puzzled. I’m not one to body shame or looks shame, but when you say you’re a model and it does cause one to scrutinize your appearance in a different way. Let’s just say you most certainly did not look like a model in
any way, shape, or form.
Coincidentally, I had just finished a summer interning at the aforementioned agency. So, I asked you who your agent was since I had just worked there. And because I knew you were full of it. Flustered, you told me you didn’t remember because they sent you immediately to Paris. Of course, I knew this was a bald-faced lie. Every model knows their agent’s name. They’re the ones responsible for your career, how could you not? And it’s incredibly rare for a model to be sent immediately abroad upon signing with an agency.
You continued to tell me right before you left you shot the cover of Vogue with Steven Meisel. The LEGEND Steven Meisel. The man who has shot every major supermodel on the planet. I almost spat out my water.
“Oh, really?” I said, now firmly intrigued by your pathological lying. “What month?”
“I can’t remember,” you replied.
I looked around for help. Was I in an alternate universe? You couldn’t possibly think I’d believe this nonsense? Did you not realize this would be an incredibly easy lie to tear apart? And how do you not remember WHEN YOU SHOT THE COVER OF VOGUE?
“None of this story is true,” I responded. “You were never a model, you don’t look like a model, and you didn’t shoot the cover of Vogue, and Anna Wintour would never approve of a shoe being thrown as the shot for the cover.”
“I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap,” you responded.
I prayed to God the rest of the other students were not as insane as you were. Lucky for me, they were not, the rest of them figured out you were a couple sandwiches short of a picnic, and thankfully you never hung out with us.
The Truth Teller