That Time Modeltypeface Took Glamazon Jamie Gunns Cipriani for a Night on the Tiles…
When I started modelling at 16, I was not a fully formed model. In fact, being honest, I’m still not a fully formed model. Part model, part Dr Who scarf.
Jamie Gunns catwalked out of the womb as a fully formed model.
There were 3 ‘special’ New Faces in Premier when I started modelling.
There was Courtney Hopper…
Who smoked, knew her way round London without an A-Z and never wore a bra. I thought she was the coolest.
There was Jamie Gunns…
Who, aged 15, walked through Old Street Station like she was walking the red carpet. She didn’t need to be told to wear a model uniform of black vest and skinny jeans and had a big handbag – that was her style, anyway!
And then there was me…
Walking around castings with Jamie was pretty…Interesting. Jamie was incredibly tall, lithe and beautiful, with luminescent skin and a body that made the high street clothes she wore look like high end designs. People stared.
Thankfully, I’ve never been the sort to unfavourably compare myself to others. I’ve got a pretty blithe sense of self-confidence. Despite my acne, trainers and proclivity towards wearing duffel coats that highlighted my hunched posture, I knew I possessed certain qualities that Jamie did not.
Did she know every single lyric to every single Happy Mondays song? Did she have a copy of Das Kapital in her bag? I doubted it. I knew who Bobby Gillespie would be most impressed with, were our paths every to cross.
Once, I invited Jamie to come and party with my friends and I.
Remarkably, she came.
My Mum, Dad and me picked her up from Morden Station and she came to my house to get ready. My brothers were stunned into silence as she cheerily greeted them hello. Maybe having a younger sister wasn’t so bad, after all, they decided after 16 years of my presence.
Then Dad drove us to Croyden, glamorous hot spot capital of the world. Officially, it goes: Ibiza, Dubai, Croyden. We queued up outside the club, which I think was called ‘Flares’.
Alas, we were refused entry as it was probably pretty obvious that we were aged 15 and 16. Jamie was easy going and we just chatted about modelling whilst every single person who passed us stared. Bearing in mind that Kate Moss left here aged 14, no one so incredible looking has probably been seen since.
Jamie was OK, too.
So! ‘Not to worry! At least Wetherspoons always serves underage people!’ Thought I. We went to Wetherspoons. The barman asked how old we were.
“18,” “21,” We said, at the same time.
We got summarily kicked out of Wetherspoons.
We then bought cigarettes to look older, which I pretended to smoke gracefully like Jamie did, all the while picturing my Mum weeping with disappointment at my transgression.
We went to an old man’s pub on a litter-strewn, forgotten corner of Croyden, where we were permitted entry. We were served two blue WKDs, which we ordered to look ladylike. At least it masked that horrible cigarette taste, which made me nauseous and Jamie look more like a film star.
We quickly sipped our blue WKDs in the company of downcast, red-nosed, stale smoke-smelling old men while I rang my Dad. He came and picked us up.
I have had more successful nights out.
Jamie is now a supermodel, successful in her own right and married to a Cipriani, with whom she has a child.
Whenever I see pictures like this…
I have an inward little chuckle at getting kicked out Wetherspoons, Croyden with such a Glamazon.