MODEL ABOLAJI OSHUN — THE EAST LONDON STUDENT WHO WALKS FOR BALENCIAGA
Before I actually started modelling, I think my only legitimate point of entry of the fashion world was watching America’s Next Top Model with my family and all I can say about that is that Tyra Banks will surely answer for her heinous crimes at one point or another. I grew up with Nigerian parents and my mother’s insistence on lathering Palmer’s Cocoa Butter on me and my siblings’ faces (and bodies) has long served as my beauty routine for my whole life (and yes, I still use it for my body and face.) Anyways I’ve grown up in East London my whole life, splitting my first half in Newham and my second half in Hackney where I went to secondary school. Early memories of being a fashion icon include wearing slim jeans when the mandem used to slander it and wearing Nike Blazers in Year 7.
I got scouted in Westfield Stratford City in 2015 by an agent called Patrick after my friends brought me into modelling for a friends’ barber’s exhibition. Funnily enough, that day my dad foreshadowed me getting scouted with an offhand comment before I left my house. I’ll always be grateful to Ben, Kamal, Kamal’s barber and Patrick because without them I wouldn’t be doing any of this. In 2018 I left AMCK and was without an agency until my friend Tommy sent my pictures to Anti Agency and my agent Najia signed me. I met Tommy at an editorial in 2016 and we remained friends ever since (we share the same birthday also). Tommy and I later both walked a Balenciaga show a year later, life is funny.
Convincing my parents and my Head of Year (shout out Mr Holt 100 times, he’s a real one) to let me take a week out of my second year of Sixth-Form in January for Milan Fashion Week was already a tough task. I had promised everybody involved that it was the first and last time this was happening. I had assured my mother that there would be no more. At the same time, the only thing that was playing through my head was the “don’t believe me, I’m a true liar” meme because there was going to be absolutely nothing in this Dunya stopping me from getting to this bag – school and my mother included.
Two weeks before my 19th birthday, I was in the common room at school one morning. I can assure you with certainty that I was not doing my work and honestly, it still amazes me how much I was taking the piss that year. I had been an option for the job, meaning I was a ‘maybe’, but this doesn’t really mean anything as I had been on countless options before without getting the job. Anyways my agent texted me that day saying Balenci confirmed me and wanted me to go out to Paris that afternoon (shoutout Genevieve). I packed up and left school expeditiously. I was feeling like Hannah Montana with the way I was living this double life.
I had told mumsy the good news (news that was good to me and a nightmare to her) and she was obviously beefing me over the phone, telling me the problems with me going but mumsy just could not f*** up my vibe with her worries and concerns. After a dramatic back and forth exchange that felt like something out of a movie, I told her (in short) “I honestly hear all of that... but see you in 7 days.” I packed my suitcase so quickly you would have thought I had linkage coming over and I made my way to King’s Cross train station. Those days I never had my student account and the devilish overdraft, so my mode of transport always had to be TFL. Nonetheless, I was strolling like I was Arthur that day, arms swinging and everything.
Strangely I didn’t have a casting for the show, they had only requested a video of me walking. Up until then also I had done some good jobs but nothing that I would have thought warranted a Balenci job with no casting. God is good all the time and all the time...
Being taken to Paris on a morning’s notice to walk for an esteemed fashion house feels exactly how it sounds. It was exhilarating. I was gassed for the whole journey there. I got to Balenci’s HQ and was greeted with impeccable hospitality and a complimentary trap phone so they could contact me. The HQ was filled with pale brown rocks and architecture that looked like it belonged to royalty. A nutrition board in the dining hall gave all instructions on how best to lead a nutritious lifestyle. I had my own driver, a hotel and specific styling times. I wasn’t used to being treated so well on a job. My first meeting with Demna Gvasalia was on my first day in Paris for my first fitting. Pulsating techno music had made my heart race. It had never been my musical genre of choice, but it now became the soundtrack of the bag. The ‘oonts oonts’ sounds were sounding so sweet. In my first encounter, he sat petting a freshly groomed Chihuahua like I expected him to. He was cordial and nice. The whole team had been cordial and nice.
Before I walked the show for the first time and stood in line (note: these days I’m a two-time-Balenciaga-stepper, talk to me nice!) I had been understandably anxious, however we had rehearsed the walk 3 times, so everything was patterned. The runway design had been simpler the first time but for the second time, the runway was submerged with water and we walked in a more rounded shape. Full commentaries of the shows are available online so I will settle by simply describing Demna as a genius. He’s wavey. Kanye and Kim had been in attendance of the show but unfortunately, I never got to actually see them. I’ll settle for putting “walked in front of Kimye” on my CV though. In hindsight, I probably would have disgraced myself by freestyling for Kanye like an up and coming rapper if I met him so that’s that.
After the show, the return in lifestyles from being chauffeur driven to Balenciaga headquarters in the spring of Paris to taking the stinky bus to school every morning was especially violent. I spent the next few months inside while school had me in an aggressive chokehold. I couldn’t even really soak in the benefits because I returned to the midst of essays and mock exams. As for life after the second show that I walked a year later: I’m still taking the piss with university and Instead of A-Level exams and my parents fucking up my follow-up-bag, this time its coronavirus. I can’t catch a break! More importantly though, I’m boujier than ever, self-respect levels are higher than ever before and I still love all the hoes. “This for the b******!” *50 cent voice* Is this what an insurmountable level self-worth feels like?