Dear absent models,
I see you holding your head high. A little too high if you ask me. I feel you ignoring my presence. It's not like you ever paid attention to me before. Hell, you didn't even accept my friend request on Facebook. Must be too big for me, right? Not big enough... What ran through your head when you first read my fan mail? Did you ever think I'd get to your level of performance? We're walking the same shows now. We're getting the same treatment. What makes you any different from me now? Do you know how long it took me to get here? Do you know what the fuck I went through? NO, you don't. But it's alright because I don't know your story either. But here's the difference... I was willing to share mine. I was willing to open up to someone I had never met before because I felt that connection already. That feeling of despair once entering the fashion industry. I no longer care to share my secrets with you. I thought maybe the fucked up side of fashion wasn't real but you gave me every reason to believe that models can be cruel. Humans, in general, too. If I ever get to that side, push me the fuck out. I never want to reach that level of ignorance. Is it wrong if I welcome myself to this world? Am I allowed to pat myself on the back? This isn't my way of bragging. This is my way of letting others know that I am here and ready to take on whatever comes my way.
Photography by Hadar Pitchon
Why can’t I speak to boys? Why can’t I speak to men? I’m one of them. Aren’t I? I drifted away from everyone during fashion week. I did all I could to stay away from the scene. It just didn’t feel right. What was it? What was wrong with me.
I’ve forgotten how to talk to people.
I spent 90% of my career networking through Instagram and now I’m stuck. I can’t fucking talk to people. I did it all in one week. Lived all my dreams and now I’m back to dreaming. I crave more. I want more for me but I am forgotten. My 15 minutes of fame are history and I haven’t made history since. My existence is deleted. My career had finally taken off and I got scared. I was afraid of failure. I played the game so well. I Had the perfect brand. NolanRobert Navarro. Now it’s all gone. You think people would wonder where you went but honestly, no one gives a fuck. Once you’re out of the scene, everyone else levels up. You’re no longer competition. Not having a following is equivalent to not having a career. Who made these rules? FU fashion. You took the kid in me and twisted it. Fashion was my way out of high school. I was bullied into a realm of queer curiosity. Fashion was my way to express it but once you get harassed, once you get touched… it’s all gone. Keep your mouth shut.
Keep your mouth shut. You don’t want to get blacklisted. Just smile and keep the truth hidden in the back of your mind. Walk with poise and hope you look good. Information about yourself is posted at the rate you live your life. You get off the runway and BAM, you’re on Vogue. Instant gratification. Everyone’s going to be proud of me. Nobody has to know I’m suffering… JUST LOOK at how tired I am. Has nobody noticed? This is my payment. I’m welcomed home to a spread in a local magazine. Everyone knows who I am. Everyone knows I’ve made it but nobody cared to ask me about the downfall. This is the downfall. I had fame but it’s all gone. Until next time. Next season. Flying back to Texas meant nothing to me. In order for me to strive, I need to create and I can’t do that here. I lived all my little Texas dreams.