Last week’s Sunday Styles section of the NYTimes was plastered with the well-defined cheek bones of Carla Bruni, described in the article as a “man trap, serial heart-wrecker, rocker arm candy, photogenic cipher, arrogant heiress, polling gimmick – the woman who appears likely to become the first lady of France.”   She is also a former model, and the article went on to ask if a woman who had worked as a model and had been romantically linked to Mick Jagger and Eric Clapton could fill the shoes of first lady?

                I asked “Why not?”

                And the article answered.   “Because model is so often used as a synonym for moron.”

                Later in the article, the editor of Flaunt Magazine announced, “A has-been or a junkie would have been much easier for people to accept.   It’s not a matter of whether ex-model is a career parth for a first lady.  It’s that nobody can stand a person who has it all.”

                This made my head spin.   Was it seriously a matter of discussion whether or not someone could be “first lady” (um, hardly a career) just because they had the aforementioned well-defined cheek bones and other well-defined things, and had worked as a model?   Was it enough of a discussion to be on the front page of a section of the NYTimes?  Is it true junkies get more respect than models?

                This made me think back to my short go at modeling in college.   It started because someone stopped me on the street near Washington Square and asked me to be in an AT&T ad.   On the shoot, my inner ham came out, and, despite previous feminist rejections of anything model-related,  I got hooked on the idea of easy money for textbooks, the idea of another creative outlet, and the possibility of meeting characters and having adventures.   It was a simpler time, before “America’s Next Top Model,” and my roommate took pictures of me and helped me send them out to a few agencies.

My first agent told me not to let on at castings that I was a student at NYU.   “No clients want to think you’re smarter than them,” he said, promptly asking to see me with my hair down for polaroids.   This was the first sign of the complex world I was entering.

                I met plenty of models, male and female, on castings and shoots and, surprise!, they were a varied group, just like most groups.   There were plenty of educated and creative individuals.   I became friends with a published writer/model and aspiring doctor/model.   Most I met were adventurous people who wanted to grab a shot at more adventure while pursuing other things.   Most I met hustled for castings, but approached actual jobs with the same reluctance that one would a 9-5.   These weren’t the select few, mind you, who were swept out of Brazil or Siberia at 14 to prowl catwalks.   These were creative types who liked the job for the flexible schedule and big paychecks, and were willing to work it from audition to audition, like any struggling actor in New York.  

While its true, the job “model” doesn’t call for the same type of brain power and hand-eye coordination as “surgeon,” that doesn’t mean models aren’t smart people. It doesn’t even mean they’re beautiful….maybe just photogenic, or symmetrical, or weird looking, or possessing some trait that will “sell.”   Fashion, beauty, and marketing are all very different things.  But I’m convinced any model who actually “makes it” without the fairy-tale, “a scout discovered me at the potato stand in the motherland” story IS smart:   business-smart, people-smart.  And…has Tyra taught us nothing?  Its not easy to get out of your own way enough to portray what is being asked of you, in a print ad, TV spot or runway show.

                As for ol’ Carla Bruni, I don’t know her.   But I bet she’s got as good of a shot at being qualified for the role of first lady as our own:   ex-librarian Mrs Bush.  Or ex-photographer Jackie O.   Mrs Ford was a former model/modern dancer.  Mrs. Nixon once made money working as an extra in movies, before becoming a school teacher.  

               Because you can’t judge a book by its cover.   Even if Carla Bruni’s face is on it, or it was written by someone at the New York Times.