This is when club owners paid the models to frequent their clubs and have a good time to attract the average Joe, who paid almost criminal entry fees to join us.
But, the club owners didn’t just pay us in cash.
They paid us in piles of cocaine that looked like snow drifts from the Alps, balloons of heroin, stacks and stacks of alcohol, and other substances to ensure we enjoyed ourselves.
So, I’d pour booze down my throat like Niagara falls,
Pop ecstasy to light up the night,
Sniff a little snow to fend off fatigue,
And leave the club at 6 am.
After a night of partying, free pizza, booze, and whatever other substances were around, I’d stroll into my modeling gigs, and sometimes be told: