Model’s Apartment, real stories, from one who lived to tell about it
Setting: Manhattan, early 90’s
Models: Grey, Paula, Angel, Katrina, and me.
Agent: Douglas Asch
I was considered a lucky one. I was chosen to live with my modeling agent, along with 4 other girls, in his upper west side penthouse in
Manhattan. We had the doorman, a few stars in the building, the whole nine yards.
As far as NY living space goes, this place was plush. There were 3 bedrooms total – one for our agent Douglas Asch, one with two sets of bunk beds allowing for 4 girls to share, and the last for Paula, a prominent model whose success in modeling earned her the rights to her own room.
At night, I would usually work out like a manic, make popcorn for dinner, and hang out in our room, since the others would usually watch TV in the family room. On this night, I decided to not be totally antisocial and watch the Simpson’s with the girls in living room, so I sprawled out on one of the couches to relax – big mistake.
Doug, our greaseball agent, comes out of nowhere, and hops on the couch behind me. Before I knew it, he was snuggled up with me, staring at the TV like we were some sort of couple.
He was quite touchy feely with the others, but I was kind of a tough ass, I thought he clearly knew this was not an option with me. I thought wrong.
He had never made a move like this before, so I was totally caught off guard. I am ashamed to say it, but I froze. The next thought that entered my head – escape plan. I decided I would leisurely get up to go to the bathroom, but before I knew it, I felt his hard on pushing into my back.
Needless to say it was grosser than gross.
Now I really froze, for about 10 seconds, then I jumped up and went into my room. I immediately started doing sit ups, who the hell knows why, just seemed natural at the time. I was so pissed off in my head, and at that moment I started planning how I was going to get out of that privileged apartment.
Within two minutes the door opens, it’s him. He looks at me in this perturbed way and says “Where did you go?”
I say “I’m doing sit ups.” I know I looked scared.
Damn, if I could go back in time I would have said “Go get your cheap thrills somewhere else asshole.”(I can dream can’t I? I wish I had the balls to say it). How dare he do that to me? I thought he respected me more then the rest of them.
I was Heather. The smart one. The one that was above it all morally, physically, and mentally. I was the one he always came to when one of the girls needed a motivational speech on how to behave, or needed a helping hand getting around the city for castings, or needed to be pushed into the gym.
Well, no one is above it all in the modeling industry. If you choose this profession, watch yourself at all times, because no one will do it for you. The males that are in this industry are in it for a reason – quick access to young ass. Crude, but true.
At least this story ends on a good note. There were no other “boner in the back” incidences. I finagled my way into a different flat in the same building, with another model named Grey who was ready to get away from Greaseball.
To this day, I think about what I would say if I ever saw Douglas. I travel on business to NY quite often, and I plan on paying him a visit one of these days (I was just there last week but was too chicken to do it). It would just be soooo satisfying to look him in the eye, as an adult, successful mother, and respectable woman, and tell him what a sick impression he left on me as a young girl.
Wanna bet little Dougie boy would be scared?
Would he blush with embarrassment or shame?
Confronting your past. Priceless.