Barbizon...Glam or Sham?

Barbizon Modeling School, a name that has been around since I first starting out as a model nearly 20 years ago. Back then, I was an awkward looking girl with long brown hair, and still sporting bell-bottoms and ugly sweaters. Like many young girls today, I too had the dream of becoming a high fashion model. Only being 5'5 at the time, I was forced to do pageantry like every other short girl back then. Pageants were the only way for petite girls to break into the modeling world. Pageantry is much different from the glamorous life of a runway model; I was eager to break the standards and hoped be an exception to the strict rule of needing to be 5'8. After my first pageant, a “talent scout” for Barbizon approached me. He claimed I could be a model and I could go to school on a "scholarship". Naturally, I begged my parents to go even though it was over an hour drive from where we lived. We arrived at the Barbizon offices in downtown Portland and I was excited with the big city and potentially being a model. We walked into the office of the owner of the school. I still remember her name was Phyllis. She was a beautiful older woman with brown hair and deep brown eyes. She sported one of the largest gemstone rings I have ever seen. Even though it has been 20 years, I still remember all the details of the way she looked. She told me I was a raving beauty, and she really saw my potential. Naturally, I was excited to hear that they would accept me into the program despite my shortcomings in the height department. The cost was well over two thousand dollars, but she expressed that the classes were small and they only accepted girls who they thought would make it. They assured my parents it was money well spent. Deep down my parents knew they could not afford such a thing but they did it anyway. They wanted me to be happy and after all Miss Phyllis said she would even cover some of the money required so that I can attend. I would be driven to Portland every other Saturday by my parents to attend these modeling classes. The classes were basics on how to wear makeup, walk, and dress and present yourself. I will admit they did clean up my look a little but I was far from super model material. Fast forward thousands of dollars later, another year gone by, and I am still the same small town shortie with no modeling job offers. It began to sink in that we had been taken for a ride.

Now 20 years later, I find myself pulling up to the new Barbizon offices located in the Hollywood District of Portland. I had been called in for a job interview to work for the sales team. Needing some extra cash, I decided to give the interview a shot and see if things have changed with the company over the years. I walked up the staircase and through the glass door, not impressed with my surroundings one bit. The place had movie posters of Twilight, Hannah Montana and a few others that looked as if they were just thrown up on the wall to make them look professional. Giving the false impression that they somehow discovered the stars that graced the walls. I took my seat on the cheap plastic chair in the lobby that was filled with furnishings from Ikea. I overhear a few conversations in the background and some woman claiming she was out of the office right now and on her way to some important meeting. A lie, as she was sitting at her desk and speaking on her cell phone. Hmm, here we go with the dishonesty. Older and much more hip to the lies adults tell I am wondering what type of interview this will be. Finally, my name was called and I go into the office of the woman who will be interviewing me. I shake her hand and have a seat. As I sit across from her, I begin to examine her looks. She is very tall, about six feet. She has blonde hair and blue eyes; I cannot help but think she looks exactly like the actress Kristen Johnson from "3rd Rock from the Sun". With the exception of what appears to be way to much Botox as her brows sort of have the "Spock" look to them. She explains how she was a "big time model" and she signed with Elite twice, a fact I find hard to believe looking at her now. She talks of the celebrities they have produced and mentions a few names I have never heard of. She then shows me some before and after shots of some of the girls. Not too shabby, but $2,500 bucks for a little makeover is just insane. I could pull a random girl off the street and do the same thing. I ask her the details of the job position and she says, "What we do is create the sense of urgency to the kids and the parents, we tell them we only accept 15 students in each class. However, the truth is if we have 30, girls who want in we just create two classes. We make it seem like we are very selective with our girls, but honestly we will accept anyone who wants to pay." Wow, there you have it... nothing has changed. Even still, they prey on the hopes and dreams of young women and the parents. They know that none of these girls will really have the chance to be a real model. Then she asks me if I speak Spanish because Hispanics are really nice and really apt to spend the money for their daughters. Wow. I have pretty much heard enough. She invites me to come in and watch the open casting call this Sunday and for a minute I consider coming in just to see what they say to these poor girls to swindle them. Instead, I decide it is best to not have a part of it at all. So here I am, writing this article to warn the unsuspecting population if hopeful girls and parents out there. If you really want to be a model, submit a photo of you directly to a reputable agency. If you have to pay thousands of dollars to be trained on how to be a model it is a fraud girls. Run for the hills.