I moved to the city in the summer of 2018, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after graduating college in Austin, TX. After doing some modeling for local shops and random university student projects, I got picked up by an agency in New York and decided to give it a go. I knew nothing about the modeling industry, let alone the model housing industry. I first experienced model apartments through my own agency, then later ended up in a promoter apartment for 6 wild months. While I can safely say from the other side of the river in Brooklyn that I am better because of the experience, I know some girls who can’t.
Most working models are signed in several different cities and need a place to live when they come to work in the New York market, often during fashion week. This created the need for apartments dedicated specifically to models. An actual Manhattan apartment where models can claim a bed, add their comp card to the growing wall of models that came before them, and feel comfortable knowing they are not alone.
If you have seen America’s Next Top Model, you remember the apartments they stayed in. Aside from the beautifully decorated common areas, the girls slept in bunk beds. Believe it or not, that concept is true in the modern world of modeling, but with no luxurious common areas- unless you consider a 600 sq foot apartment on 51st and 2nd Ave with 9 models luxurious.
While both living spaces are equally as cramped, there are two very different types of model apartments.
The first type of apartments are owned by modeling agencies.
In my first agency apartment, I was charged $1300 for one month. For an East Village apartment, that’s not horrible. But for a two-bedroom with 8 girls living there, we should have paid $500 each, tops. My own agency was taking advantage of me, from the very start.
These apartments are a way for agencies to make money on new face models. New faces are risky. They often come to town expecting to make the big bucks but only end up booking one e-commerce job from a weird Amazon third party retail company that has you photograph 50 different scarves and doesn’t even get your face in the picture. Soon these new face models move back to South Carolina with tears in their eyes and a debt to the agency.
The second type of apartments are ones that are owned by promoters.
What are promoters?
Good question. Promoters are snakes. They are not your friend. They are definitely not your boyfriend, although most ARE hot. Promoters are skeezy little privileged boys that came to the city directly after graduating college where they were likely members of a fraternity. They move to the city to pursue real estate or some shit. (I swear, every promoter works in real estate at some point. It’s like science or something). Soon they find that being a little fish in a big pond isn’t going to cut it. So as to not move home and disappoint dad, they rely on what they learned in college: how to use women.
In all seriousness, a promoter is a person that is hired by a nightlife company to help promote specific clubs. In New York and many other places, this has transformed into them bringing 10 girls a night to the front of the line at a packed club, allowing the group entrance, a table, and free alcohol in exchange for the attention they draw to the space. The more hot models inside, the more the doorman can charge each weird guy in the line out front.
Promoters make about $100 on each girl and if a promoter is anywhere near decent, they’ll pay the girl $50 of it. However, in order to ensure that a promoter will have enough girls to bring to the club each night, they front the rent on a shitty apartment in the city, allowing the maximum occupancy of girls to live there for free, in exchange for joining them at a club at least three nights a week.
In all honesty, the terms weren’t that bad. When I first moved in, I was having a great time. What I should add is that on most days, we received complimentary dinner and drinks in the club’s restaurant before going inside. I got along with the other girls and some of them are still my best friends to this day. From time to time, we would get free VIP entry to shows. I saw The Eagles live. I saw Adam Levine dance to a crowd of thousands, shirtless, while Bahati stood next to me. I can’t make this shit up.
Not every day was that notable. We went to the same three clubs, three nights a week, from 12 AM to 3 AM. You had to dress up, look hot, dance, and appear to be enjoying yourself. Promoters generally go out 6 nights a week, so you can pick and choose your nights but you’re generally at the mercy of their schedule since you live on their terms.
While three nights week seems quite manageable, it doesn’t allow for much growth in girl’s modeling careers.
The world is quite divided between models who can afford to pay their own rent and models who can’t.
Unless you’re Taylor Hill, that probably means that your parents or your school grant are paying for their cute little SoHo apartment. Because of the divide, half of the group is getting their beauty rest each night while the other half is at the club, either making money or working to live for free. When it comes time for a casting in the morning, guess which girl gets the job. No matter how pretty you are, casting directors don’t like the smell of alcohol.
To make the cycle worse, models dealing with rejection often turn to the club as a way to get over the harsh realities of the industry. There you can find many others like you, young struggling artists who use the club for money and connections. No one goes because it is their favorite place. They go because they want to excel, if not at modeling, then at socializing. Models who are having trouble booking jobs can feel validated knowing that they met another person in their world. Maybe they will get a job that way- but probably not. At least they have something to do every night.
Breaking the cycle
“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while” has become my favorite compliment.
I was committed to excelling in New York. If not at modeling, then at something. I knew I needed a lifestyle change if I were to make any sort of progress. I wasn’t alone. My three best friends from the apartment wanted the same thing. When we eventually made enough money to move out of our promoter’s apartment, he banned us from the clubs. He said we purposefully wrecked his business. By simply growing up and moving on, we went against him.
I couldn’t be less sorry.
In the end, I realized what was important to me. I know that I would rather drink hot toddy’s at a dive bar in Bushwick with my neighbors than spend my Saturday night sitting across from G-Eazy watching hundreds of girls whisper “did you see the way he looked at me?”
I caution all aspiring models to prepare for the challenges of the industry. These apartments exist in every major city, in one form or another. Be wary of promoters. I repeat, they are not your friends.