The Beauty and Power in Understanding Change
There is this weird moment where, no matter how much we fight, we realize that friends are going to come and go throughout the cycle of our lives. We become painfully aware that circumstances, locales, and jobs may change, sure; but the harshest truth comes with the acknowledgement that people do.
Three years ago I met a young woman, Niko, at a casting in Paris, a few blocks away from the Arc de Triomphe. I was writing in my journal, leaning against a wall of opulent, gilded mirrors with maroon curtains draped over the sides. I remember seeing a body float into my peripheral vision; it was Niko who, a relative stranger at the time, came over and sat down beside me.
“I just felt like you were somebody I could trust,” she told me today, when we recounted our first meeting. “I’d seen you at shows before of course, but at the time I just felt that you’d listen.”
I did listen. I listened deeply as she told me of her insecurities, of the struggles she’d been having with her image and her appearance, and, because I so deeply related, because of this deep well of empathy I didn’t yet know I was cultivating, I hugged her. I think, in a way, when I spoke to her that afternoon, I pretended I was speaking directly to myself, saying all of the things I wished somebody would say to me.
Flash forward to today, a balmy evening in May as I prepare for another week as a fashion writer at Elle Canada, and Niko, currently sitting in a park in Budapest, preparing for her organic chemistry exam. I have deep ambitions to become a magazine editor one day, and Niko wants to use her past to affect change on the beauty industry with her background in science.
As I present this information to you, it’s clearly impossible to say we haven’t changed. I used to protest the idea violently, claiming I’d never be different; that the experiences of living as a model, so close to fame and yet almost parallel, too, with loneliness, wouldn’t change me from my high-school self — the version of me who looked in the mirror and just saw Madison — no flaws, but also no bits of perfection, either.
I think, as I sit here and type this, I’ve most certainly changed from the obedient Madison Niko met that day. I can proudly say, however, that my essence; the behaviours, the hobbies, the things that make me smile and laugh and move in this world, haven’t. But that doesn’t mean they never will. I once spoke to a friend of mine on the impact of modelling and she had something profound to offer: “I just hope that, when I’m done and older and look back on my time as a model, I can say I recognize that girl.”
To those who aren’t as well-versed in the modelling industry, our fascination with “finding ourselves” and “losing ourselves” may (justifiably!) seem naive. But, and the truth is, being confronted every day with various ideas of perfection, having to create new characters and prioritize our bodies over our minds somedays, can be challenging for anyone, especially for the 15 year-old Addison’s, Madison’s, and Niko’s out there who are still trying to find themselves without the word “model” attached to it all.
I started my journey in high school, as many do, and spent countless lunches trying to prove to my friends that I wouldn’t forget them, that I wouldn’t change, that we would never go our separate ways and I would never be different. In reality, I did this with everyone — the makeup artist who said I would lose my kind demeanour after a few years of toughening up, the casting director who said I shouldn’t lose my baby face, the agent who said I needed to fight to keep my body from changing over the holiday break. I tried so hard to be what everyone else knew me to be that I ended up imploding into a million different pieces, and gluing them all together with the need to make others proud.
I think, personally, change is inevitable. What isn’t however, is drive, passion, integrity — all of these things you can own, claim, and harness for life. My laugh hasn’t changed, and I don’t think it ever will. The value I place on trust, intellect and soulful, meaningful connections will also never fade; perhaps it will even multiply as I trek on in this finite little life.
When you’re confronted with friendships that seem to no longer click; that seem to no longer provide you with gratitude but rather suck something from you, it’s okay to admit that maybe, you’ve changed. It’s okay to bow your head, knowing you did all you could and listened to the loudness of your heart, leaving the other to pursue her dreams without so much as a hint of malice.
Endings aren’t always endings; they don’t always have to be a snip of a knife or a severing of a connection. They can be about love and respect, too — knowing that better things await the other because of the meaningful memories you’ve built as a unit.
As for Niko and I, we’ve changed together; finding our footing in fashion as we learned to re-shape the way we value ourselves. She was there for me when I needed a shoulder to lean on, when I needed a spark to be re-lit in my heart. And now that this spark is there, burning brighter, deeper, more far-reaching than ever, she knows I’ll be there to help her along her journey, lighting the way, until finally, both of us can walk burning brightly together.
#girlpower.
xoxo,
Madison (M/O/M)
