Diversity! Inclusivity! Representation! Not being a narrow-minded idiot! These are all laudable goals, I think we can agree. As long as we can agree on what we mean by diversity, inclusivity and not being a narrow-minded idiot, which can be difficult at times. But it need not detain us here, because we are talking about only the good sorts, as mediated by the Zebedee talent agency in a documentary called New Model Agency, about their beauty-norm-busting clients, made by Channel 4 in association with Marks & Spencer.
The problem with good hearts and better intentions is that they are often very, very boring. Models, too, are not always fascinating people and when the show they are in is working hand in glove with a commercial retailer with a vested interest in making everything seem just dandy … well, the temptation to stab yourself in the thigh with a fork grows with every passing minute.
It’s boring and pointless. I mean, not entirely. Nothing is, except low-sugar baked beans. But mostly. One of the good bits is the spark of hope engendered by the existence of such an agency. Each model taken on “despite” having vitiligo, a prominent birthmark, alopecia, a prosthetic limb, or some other feature that would usually have excluded them from the industry, is another tiny inroad made in dismantling the ridiculously trammelled notions of beauty that have endured virtually unchallenged for so long. The more you see of Shem (who has albinism) or Jasroop (who has vitiligo, and whose sharp silhouette and the attitude pouring out of her in every photo make her more compelling), or the sheer luminescence of Tia (who has alopecia) when she finds the courage to discard her wig and stand baldly in front of the lens, the more you realise the anodyne, homogeneous nature of the images that we are fed and told are acceptable. It is not that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, exactly – it’s that if you have “it”, that magical, ineffable quality that makes people want to look at you, the camera will capture it no matter what. Logically, a truly inclusive agency would take on people who are completely unphotogenic (hi!) and run campaigns whose underlying message is: “Look, we’ve all got to make do, all right?” But that’s a musing for another time.
In the meantime, we have quite boring shoots to get on with and nice but boring people to listen to while they affirm each other’s wonderfulness. Thank God for Jasroop, the nearest thing to a character the programme has. Her expression when she is expected to wear a pair of grey marl gym shorts on a shoot in Venice is a thing of beauty. Two years ago, she says, she used to be shy, cowed by her condition. If for no other reason, I shall keep tuning in to find out if we ever discover the reason behind the wholesale mental transformation that has occurred since. “Pretty sure Kate Moss never had to put up with this,” she sniffs as she is required to take a water taxi home. “Does it go past McDonald’s?”
As it is at least in part a reality show, there has to be a prize somewhere along the line. Here, it is a shoot with Rankin for one of the models taken on, out of the many applications the agency receives when it puts out a call for new clients. Tia wins. She is thrilled. Everyone is thrilled for her. Rankin is lovely, even if his comment that “Because she looks like a model she’ll be able to get work” could be construed as undermining the whole project. Tia, who unlike some of the applicants at least knew who Rankin was when the prize was announced, is adorably appreciative and grateful. “It’s been so nice to see my face through his lens.” Yes, everything is lovely. She goes from being the 16-year-old who wore hair extensions under beanie hats to hide her growing baldness from her family to posting her first pictures of herself without a wig on Instagram. I’m so bored. Where’s Jas?
Oh, here she is! In the only other good bit – a scene in which, instructed to play with the basketball they have given her as a prop during the Venice gymwear shoot, Jas – fairly naturally, I’d say – bounces it on the ground. The shoot stops. All but Jas are frozen in horror. It is a Prada basketball. They rush forward as one to examine the precious artefact. It is – being, you know, a basketball – undamaged. The room exhales and the shoot continues. The industry may become more diverse. I suspect it will remain ludicrous.
• The New Model Agency is on Channel 4
