By Paulina Porizkova
An incisive, superbly written first novel through a former stick insect that explores the glamorous and gritty international she inhabitedOnly a handful of ladies on the planet have skilled what Paulina Porizkova has -- being whisked away to version in Paris whereas nonetheless undefined, achieving the top of the occupation ahead of her schoolmates had even graduated -- and less nonetheless have the perception to trap it on paper.In her first novel, Paulina tells the tale of Jirina. A tall, scrawny fifteen-year-old woman from Sweden, she's even more acquainted with name callings and disdain than admiration and affection, even if from her classmates or her circle of relatives. that every one adjustments whilst her in basic terms pal, Hatty, asks to perform her make-up and images abilities on Jirina. virtually earlier than she is familiar with it Jirina is on a aircraft to Paris, the place she's going to spend the summer time in a milieu totally alien to her. dwelling on the domestic of her modeling agency's proprietor and continuously subjected to blunt actual exams, catty and infrequently merciless fellow types, and womanizing photographers -- and, miraculously adequate, whereas occasionally feeling actually appealing -- Jirina embarks on a trip past her wildest imaginings. among photograph shoots in Italy and Morocco and events with types and musicians, Jirina manages to make a number of neighbors, fall in love, and, finally, think the very grownup discomfort of betrayal and heartbreak.Told with the grace, simplicity, and accuracy which could in simple terms come from real-life event, A version summer time is either the debut of a particularly proficient novelist and an surprisingly well-informed glance behind the curtain at an international many of us fantasize approximately, yet few quite be aware of.
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Additional resources for A model summer
I’ll get her. Need to get some coffee anyway,” Britta says and clomps off. I entertain Olympe with a game of peekaboo under my blanket, until Britta comes in holding a cup. ” I’m puzzled. ” “I walked to her bedroom. ” Britta strips to her underwear and rummages through her drawers. I’m momentarily floored by her nerve. ” “You get dressed. ” Britta, fully dressed now, faces me with her hands on her hips. ” I’m wracked with indecision. Fragments of vivid scenes featuring me getting fired for both offenses—for not babysitting, and for babysitting instead of going to the go-and-sees—play out in my head.
I have no time to react. She drags me behind her as though I am a wayward child, and shoves me into the bathroom, where the offense lies on blue porcelain like a sausage on a plate. “This is the bidet,” she hisses through her teeth. She pulls me into the hallway and throws open the door to the toilet. “And this—is the toilet. ” She ambles back into the depths of the forbidden hallway, her slippers whispering on the bare wood floors. This is really not that different from a diaper of a three-year-old.
How I envied girls sneaking a tampon into their jeans’ pocket from their locker. In school, tampons are a sort of badge: If you use them, everyone figures you have had sex, and if you’ve had sex, you are obviously good-looking enough to be desired by boys. By ninth grade, it appeared only Hatty, myself, and Monika—a tall, hunched A-plus student in the other class—were the only ones left “on the rag,” literally speaking. I still wince when I remember the most shameful incident of my life: Someone had stuck a soiled sanitary napkin to the back of my brand new winter coat, and I walked around school for God knows how long, pleased at the smiles I mistakenly attributed to looking great in my new coat.
A model summer by Paulina Porizkova