I wrote this piece for the Sunday Times in 1981.

EVER since I saw Twiggy on the cover of Petticoat magazine I was obsessed (like every other 16-year-old) with becoming a model.

I used to practice making up my face for hours (‘if Twiggy could wear three pairs of false eyelashes, then so could I).  My hobby was skin care. I would dash home from the rigours of Caesar’s Gallic Wars (BK 1) and plaster my face with home-made face-packs, elbows rammed into lemon-halves.

I painstakingly cut out hundreds of pictures (with pinking shears) of glamorous vacuous-looking models from every magazine from Huigenoot to Harper’s Bazaar …

I just KNEW that modelling was my vocation.

Once I was through with my studies I would fly to London, Paris or Rome (I wasn’t fussy). I would be spotted in the streets of one…

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