The Super Models walked so we could be less self conscious about selfies
Naomi, Cindy, Linda and Christy are the Gen X Beatles of fashion with an enduring X-factor. Now they’re speaking up and out.
The “super models” Naomi Campbell, Cindy Crawford, Linda Evangelista and Christy Turlington walked, twirled for Oprah and, in Evangelista’s case, were “abused”, so artists like Emily Ratajkowski could be naked online and Kim Kardashian could earn $1bn.
Whether you’re a fan of fashion or not, you cannot escape these four names that traversed couture shows, catwalks and the pages of magazines (remember those?) in the 1980s, ’90s and even now.
They were the original Covid, but in a good way. Their presence travelled and transcended the silos of fashion. They infected everyone; but instead of hurting us, they hurled pop culture forward, revolutionised the modelling scene – and copped a lot of flak for it, too.
Even today, I find even the slightest bit of criticism directed at their new group project galling.
Back when they emerged on the scene as young models, they were seen, not heard.
The soundbites that were picked up were spun to make them appear “difficult” like Campbell or “spoiled brats” – like when Evangelista made the now famous quip that she wouldn’t get out of bed for less than $10,000 a day.
It’s a line that if it were uttered in this day and age would have seen her celebrated for “knowing her worth”, but instead it garnered a reaction that scarred her. Even in 2023, she tears up as she remembers how she was pilloried for making that statement years ago.
The Super Models is a new four-part documentary series that charts the rise of the careers and lives of Campbell, Crawford, Evangelista and Turlington.
They are the Gen X Beatles of fashion with an enduring X factor. Even Evangelista was shocked at the intensity of the interest around them.
“We weren’t the Beatles!” Evangelista says before outlining how she had to hire a security guard to protect her backstage at fashion weeks and even carried a can of spray paint that she shook at photographers who dared take her photo – or any model’s photo – backstage when they were changing.
The doco – produced by the four women – is a trip down memory lane along a road littered with art (actual art created on set by photographers such as Richard Avedon, Steven Meisel, Patrick Demarchelier and Herb Ritts). The show is stuffed to the brim with beautiful archival footage of Vogue covers, high fashion spreads, commercials and media appearances showing just how ubiquitous, ridiculously beautiful and talented these women were.
“When MTV wanted a host for a fashion show in the late eighties, they hired not an actor or pop star, but Cindy Crawford,” fashion journalist Amy Odell says.
“When Calvin Klein wanted a face for its Eternity fragrance – a $1 million annual contract for 100 days of work – they looked, again, not to actors or pop stars, but to Christy Turlington. When George Michael didn’t want to star in his own music video for Freedom! 90, he cast the supers.”
The series effectively portrays Evangelista as a rare jewel that must be protected at all costs.
Her story is one riddled with heartbreak and grit. She canvasses her breast cancer battle and the well-known Cool Sculpting horror story that left her disfigured. She also tells how she cut her hair at the request of a photographer before she was set to appear in 40 European shows; once the designers saw her new “androgynous” hair they dropped her.
Franca Sozzani, who was editor of Italian Vogue, then put her on the cover.
The most alarming element of the show charts her marriage to Gerald Marie, a former modelling agent she married at 22 (he was 37). He was later accused of violating women over many years. Evangelista tells her story – in the vaguest of terms – that she didn’t know he was hurting others. “He never touched my face … he knew that’s what made the money,” she says while praising the bravery of his accusers for coming forward. (Marie has denied the allegations.)
These women – unlike many of today’s top models – are not nepo babies. I mean, Crawford spawned one, her daughter Kaia Gerber; “I’m now just known as ‘Kaia’s mum’,” Crawford laughs. They all started from the bottom and posed their way to the top. Campbell, despite being “a magnet” according to designers such as John Galliano, was frequently overlooked for jobs for her race.
Crawford started working in corn fields and gave up a college scholarship to pursue modelling, “I didn’t even know what Hermes (she pronounces it as “Hermies”) was,” she says.
Turlington cleaned horse stalls before she was scouted at 14 and did bridal work at 15.
Evangelista was a waitress who “dreamt of being on the cover of Vogue. Any Vogue!”
Some online criticism of the show, and the stars in particular, lacks context. Many commentators on social media are clearly ignorant to the fact they are standing on the slender shoulders of Crawford, Campbell, Evangelista and Turlington, who helped to diversify media and fashion.
These women were celebrated for their looks, were attacked when they spoke out, and lived within a rigid framework of fashion and wider society at the time. They not only established their own “brands”, they helped others launch their careers too, such as Marc Jacobs and Galliano.
All have been extremely savvy in gaming a system that was rigged against them – rigged against all women at the time.
Crawford went against the advice of her minders and posed naked for Playboy to expand her “reach” from not only being known by women but by men, too. She then went on to land major campaigns outside of high fashion and cosmetics.
These women carved a path for the models, celebrities and influencers of today.
The greatest part of their collective story and the biggest admiration should be reserved for the fact they are all friends and learned early on the importance of supporting each other, despite being competitors.
Now into their 50s, they continue to lift others up while wearing heels.
The Super Models is streaming now on Apple TV+
More Coverage
Demi Moore’s performance in thriller is career-defining
Demi Moore, who started her film career in 1981, is astonishing in scene after scene, her body juxtaposed with the – let’s say unconventional – things she is doing.
My mother survived the Holocaust. I used her words to silence a pro-Palestine activist
After being offered a bodyguard for an appearance at a local writers’ festival, Rachelle Unreich was reminded that her mother’s lessons are more important and relevant than ever in the face of rising anti-Semitism.