I earned thousands as a curvy model – now the ‘trend’ is over and there’s no work

I have been modelling for nine years of my life. It’s been a wonderful and fulfilling time. I began in 2016, when I was 25, after entering a competition with a major brand for the opportunity to travel to America, be signed by a modelling agency and star in a campaign. I didn’t win, but I made it to the final 30 women and that kick-started my career. It was an experience that opened my eyes to just how few bodies like mine were represented in the industry. Modelling wasn’t always my dream. I had always wanted to be a fashion designer, though people around me would tell me I should model because I had the look. Growing up, I had been obsessed with fashion magazines like Vogue. Seeing no one who looked like me didn’t stop me from wanting to become a designer – but it did make me question what was wrong with me. I rarely saw Black girls or Black models represented. Of course, we had Naomi Campbell, but she was one model in an industry that offered very little representation beyond a very narrow beauty ideal. I also struggled with an eating disorder, so the pressure to look a certain way was already there. I had internalised the idea that I needed to be slim. When you grow up surrounded by images that repeatedly tell you what beauty should look like, it is difficult not to absorb those messages. Shorts When I was signed as a model, plus-size modelling was only just beginning to gain visibility – in a historic first, British Vogue had put Ashley Graham on its cover in 2017 – so I approached the industry with some trepidation. Nevertheless, I was quickly getting lots of work. One of the most defining jobs of my career was a year-long campaign with Adidas Originals. I had the opportunity to create my own jumper, which was sold in stores, as well as design my own trainers. It was incredible. It was more than simply being a model; I was able to contribute creatively to a brand and see something I had helped create come to life. I can say truthfully that it wasn’t until this year that I sat down and took stock of everything I had accomplished. As I reflected on my career, I soon realised that the work, the opportunities and the emails had gradually stopped coming in. The work didn’t stop overnight; it has slowly phased out over the last three years. The industry seems to have so seamlessly and insidiously reverted to old standards and narratives about what it means to be a model, and what the “right” or “perfect” body looks like. Take the recent Victoria’s Secret show, for example. There is an appearance of inclusion, but I question how much has really changed. The scattered representation of a few plus-size bodies still feels narrow and diluted, with the same small group of incredible models, such as Precious Lee and Ashley Graham, repeatedly being held up as examples of diversity. They are fantastic models, but they represent one particular type of plus-size body. Where is the space for everyone else? Sadly, this isn’t affecting only me. I have spoken to other models, content creators and people working across the industry who have been looking for work for some time, struggling to get opportunities or even receive a response to a job application. The feeling that you were sought because you fit a fad or a trend, and that moment has now passed, takes a toll on your sense of self. I know it has for me. If you are not a white model, if you don’t have the so-called heroin chic look or if you don’t fit the narrow ideal of what is considered attractive to men, it can feel as though you don’t deserve to have a space in the industry or to see yourself represented. I have been asked before how much I feel the industry has changed since I began my journey. I don’t believe it has changed in the slightest. In 2020, following the global Black Lives Matter protests, the lives of Black people and the mistreatment and deaths of so many were being highlighted in the media. In the years that followed, particularly in 2021 and 2022, I experienced a significant increase in work. I was booking around four jobs a month, receiving emails almost every day from brands wanting to work with me, and being approached by newspapers and online publications to share my perspective. I was earning approximately £5,000 a month. It was the busiest period of my career. For a time, it felt as though the fashion industry was finally making room for people who had been overlooked for so long. But I couldn’t help wondering whether this was genuine, lasting change or whether the industry was responding to the cultural moment. There was a sense of, “OK, here you go. Have your moment. Take up space for now”. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the industry would eventually return to the standards it had pushed on me since childhood: the idea that beauty belongs to impossibly thin, predominantly white women, and that anyone outside of that mould is somehow less deserving of visibility. Over the past few years, that is what it has felt like. As though the industry has decided it has done enough and is saying: “We’ve given you your five minutes. Now we go back to the regularly scheduled programming.” For a time, brands appeared eager to celebrate different bodies, embracing language around self-love, inclusivity and representation. But now those values have been quietly abandoned, because they’re no longer commercially viable. If inclusion is only celebrated when it aligns with a trend, was it ever really about inclusion? I have advocated for many years to be seen. I built a platform by being myself, unapologetically, and saying how and what I feel on my Instagram page. It’s so lovely that so many people have resonated with that. But speaking out about the industry’s retreat from body inclusivity has come at a cost. The work stopped coming in. The approaches dried up. Brands that had previously wanted to work with me no longer seemed interested. Their silence spoke volumes. If speaking honestly about an industry I had spent years working in means I lose jobs, then those opportunities were perhaps never aligned with me in the first place. I have now begun searching for a job outside the industry. I applied for social media manager roles, copywriting, talent management and PR, and then jobs outside the creative industry – administrative roles, personal assistant positions, government jobs and sales assistant roles. So far, I have applied for approximately 250 positions. Of those, I have received only around five responses, all declining my application. To this day, I am still looking. My sense of self has taken a big hit, and I feel emotionally spent. I have spent nine years building a career in an industry I love, advocating to be seen and creating space for myself, and now I find myself having to rethink what my future looks like. I still have so much I want to do, so much creativity to give, and so much more I know I am capable of. But right now, I am trying to work out where I fit and how I make things work. It is a difficult place to be.