Age of the Heightists.
Nobody likes rules. But in high fashion, rules are especially frowned upon. Convention is an accosted outcast, stylishly reduced down and reassembled into hair-raising works of art by pirates of the cloth like John Galliano. Fashion is societies green zone for the wild of heart.
So why all the height restrictions on models?
For the under 5’9s of the world the chances of walking the runways of Milan and Paris are less likely than earning a degree in neuroscience. The globalization of models has created a surplus of 5’10 Eastern European beauties trained like Stepford wives to appease the money bagging New York agencies. The cackley, cigarette in mouth Kate Moss of 1995 would never have made it in today’s endless parade of sunken-jowl glamazons. And where would fashion be then? I shudder at the thought.
Which brings me to Brittany Markert. If ever there existed the super hot babe version of the little engine that could, it would be this petite diva. Featured here posing for Pete Thompson is a young woman that has pushed her way through Tyra Bank’s nail biting America’s Next Top Model and battled the shortism that is rampant even in progressive San Francisco. Recently returned from working the amorous Mexican market, Brittany’s not one to come up short in front of the camera.
So let’s stop being heightest and encourage the fun and funky Kate Moss’ and Audrey Hepburn’s of the world. This industry of play and fantasy wouldn’t be the same without them.
Words by Nicole Shanahan. Styling by Seema. Photo by Seema's Iphone.