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Mystery of the mardy male models

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Kill me now...

Modelling – it must be a whirlwind of glamorous locations, fabulous parties and constant adoration.

Maybe at the high end of glamour it is, but for those who are barely even reaching for the bottom rung of the ladder of success, it would appear to be slightly less scintillating and exhilarating. True, I’m not exactly basing this on in-depth research, but I did once work with a guy who dated a girl who became a very successful model (after they split up) and we were introduced briefly at an office Christmas party. That’s puts me in the “expert” category, right?

This week, I had cause to look into corporate clothing. You know the sort of thing; reasonably priced clobber with your organisation’s logo on. Practical. Smart. Washable at 30C.

Whilst the ladies throwing some shapes to show off their branded gear were broadly cheery in the photos, some of their male colleagues clearly weren’t too chuffed at being photographed in a £4.99 nylon-mix polo shirt (with contrast stitching) which is easy to iron.

Presumably, they had imagined that by now they would be sipping cocktails by a pool, rather than being asked to try and make a budget fleece look sexy. Maybe they misunderstood the photographer’s instructions. After all, it is notoriously easy to confuse “smile” with “look an alarming mixture of angry, sad and enormously aggressive at the same time.”

If you were thinking your fashion career would by now have naturally led to you appearing in a baffling perfume add with Keira Knightley, rather than changing into the 19th different shirt in a draughty store room in Slough, then I suppose that is the facial expression you’d wind up with.

Or maybe it was intentional? Perhaps the idea is to make you feel that wearing your logo-ed top is a deeply moving, manly experience. Something to make you feel hugely powerful and butch, a Norse God in a 3-for-£10 T-shirt. Hear me roar!

Had a bad week? Feeling like you career is stagnating, or you’re simply capable of so much more? I recommend simply tracking down one of these catalogues, flicking through the acres of brightly-coloured, man-made fibre, garments and basking in the joy that is the deeply mardy male model within.

Look at his sad eyes. Feel his pain as he glares defiantly at you whilst wearing a showerproof jacket (available in 6 colours). There. Life isn’t so bad now, is it?

This post first appeared as my "A wry look at the week" column, in The Mail, on Friday, 15th June, 2018, where it was retitled as "Models of bad behaviour".

 I honestly spent an hour trying to think of a good angle on the Trump/Kim summit last week, before eventually conceding that far funnier stuff had been written than I was coming up with, and went with my instincts - write about something that amused me during the week. 

 I couldn't find the specific pic that triggered it, but the one above should give you some idea. Shattered dreams - in nylon mix.

(CD A-Z: The very peculiar "Liverpool Sound Collage" from 2000... including dub Beatles. Yeah - I know.)
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