The cobblestones of Paris’s Place Vendôme bore witness to an unexpected juxtaposition today: a figure cloaked in effortless chic, yet radiating raw honesty. The model, draped in a double-belted tan jacket that hugged her frame like a second skin, paired the ensemble with wide-leg jeans, a sleek black purse, and understated flats. Her statement red lip and black sunglasses completed the look—a visual sonnet of confidence. But beneath the polished exterior, her words carved a different narrative.
“In my career right now, I feel really stable, really hopeful,” she admitted, her voice a quiet storm. “But I’ve had a tough two months. I haven’t been myself, and my friends see it.” The confession hung in the air like smoke after a fireworks display—transient yet vivid. “I’m more sad than usual. I’m way more anxious than usual. So I’m not going to sit here and act like everything’s perfect.” Her honesty was a gut punch wrapped in velvet.
She likened her emotional state to a pendulum, swinging between highs and lows with merciless rhythm. “That’s life—I’m always going to be in and out of those feelings.” Gone was the rehearsed optimism of past interviews. “Right now, I’m actually in it,” she said, as if admitting to a secret the world had already guessed.
The root of her turmoil? “Let’s just say it’s personal-life-journey stuff,” she offered with a wry smile, as cryptic as a half-written diary entry. A self-proclaimed “stressor and control freak”, she tipped her hat to her mother for the trait. At 28, she’s navigating what she calls a “transitional period”—a bridge between the reckless abandon of youth and the looming gravity of her 30s. “I’m so tired emotionally, but I think it’s good,” she mused. “It’s almost like I’m purging something for my 30s. That’s my theory.”
Her words were a reminder: even those who seem to wear life like a tailored coat sometimes find the seams fraying. And perhaps that’s the most human thing of all.
