Free You Only Get One Life by Brigitte Nielsen Page B

cocaine on just two occasions but I never had the taste for it, which was a good thing because it was everywhere. It was like being a rock star at the nights I went to in the ‘80s. You could have anything you wanted; it was a time of excess and piles of coke were put out as if they were bowls of crisps at a cocktail party.
    I was happy with the way I looked and when I wasn’t working, I felt freedom under my wings: I was the bird who had finally flown away. My dancing was wild and I was Danish – you know, I didn’t wear a bra – but I didn’t want that to mean I was available. A lot of men misunderstood – they thought it was an invitation to something more. And it never was, it just wasn’t, but I loved the attention; I liked having people notice me for all the right reasons. Off duty I was a tease and I just wanted to have fun. I’d got used to being praised for my great ass and my beautiful boobs – and I appreciated every moment of it.
    I was good at the job, I was professional and agents knew that when I said, ‘Yes,’ to a job, I meant it. I worked even under the most difficult circumstances. It wasn’t enough just to have a great body either: I took care of myself and I could transform in front of the camera. Health, strength and discipline were vital to keep up with the demands of modelling. I was up at 5.30am, in the studio by 7am and working through until 9pm. I couldn’t have gone out partying all the time and going off to get fucked up without it having an effect on my ability to work; I ensured I was always on top of my game and constantly in demand.
    Everything went in a blur but I do remember being asked to do a shoot for Rolex. I wasn’t feeling very well thatmorning but the agent countered this by saying I’d be working with Helmut Newton. Suddenly, I felt better again! The chance to work with the legend and his wonderful wife June was too much and I didn’t need to ask anything else. Most fashion photographers do their best with light and clothes to make you look beautiful but it’s all very formulaic. Helmut demanded expression and feeling. He was direct, powerful and had an unassailable sincerity in his approach. You would end up in front of the camera with your limbs at angles which shouldn’t possibly have worked, but somehow he brought life and playfulness to every shot.
    It was the same with Herb Ritts. Both were creative and demanding in a way that felt refreshing. There was always a sense of a story behind their set-ups but neither of them ever spelled it out while they were shooting. Working with them was more exhausting than regular shoots but also tremendously inspiring. Their assignments were all the more welcome because they didn’t come along that often and served to highlight the mediocre filler I had to do between times. I was easily bored and it hadn’t taken long for me to realise that modelling at any level quickly became routine: I needed something more artistic to keep my attention.
    My days were usually busy but virtually interchangeable. By the time I was on set first thing, I would have had a bath and done legs, eyebrows, nails… everything perfect. I’d say ‘Hello’ to the photographer, get with the make-up artist, stylist… On with the first set of clothes and repeat various parts of the same old performance all day – with a half-hour for lunch. I was a highly-paid clothes hanger, which is, of course, the job, but it wasn’t very interesting. Some modelsgo on as long as possible, but while I don’t mean to suggest I was better than them, I guess the shine quickly faded.
    The groupies could be particularly annoying. Girls had to watch out for handsome young playboys with good clothes, fast cars and practised charm. I instinctively knew that there was something to be wary of, but a lot of my girlfriends didn’t – particularly the Americans. We’d go to exclusive clubs where you paid an unbelievable amount of money to secure a table. The American