LA Models Austin: The Epitome Of the LA ideal PS Austin is NOT The Saint

Back in NY TI barely pays attention to the comings and the goings of male models. Betty Sze at the day job has that beat covered, but Thursday night, on the way back from the big Motorola extravanganza, I heard the most telling tale of the strange variations you get on male models. My chaperone for the night (for I am not allowed to roam LA unsupervised) is also an eagle-eyed young model scout specializing in the male market. For obvious reasons, there is a constant influx of beautiful kids into this city . He described the story of driving down this very strip of Sunset when he spotted this face on a young man that was straight out of a Pre-Raphaelite canvas. Car lurches to a stop. He goes up to the Pre-Raphaelite saint stuck in the form of a LA rocker/panhandler. The radiant beauty is huddled on the sidewalk with another friend, so unwashed, their clothes almost seem to slow-drip an oily black substance and you can almost see the flies spinning around their heads like a halo of sorts. They have a small dog. Its ribs are showing.
"Hello," says the scout. "I think you really should model.
" Do you have a buck so my dog could get some food," said The Saint.
"You think HE can be a model?" demands the Saint's grimy companion.
"Yes I do," says the scout. "I don't have a dollar on me right now but funny enough I'm on my way to the pet store so if you stay here I can bring back some food for your dog."
''I dunno dude. We might not be here when you get back. We're just moving around y'know" :
" Well least, please, please take my card and call me because I really think this could happen for you"
. "Whatever man", says The Saint, taking the card.
"You think HE can be a model," says the grimy companion, even more incredulously this time.
Sure enough our scout returns to the sainted spot, dry dog food in hand and the beauty is gone. He thinks he'll never see him again until one day, weeks later, there is a commotion at the reception desk of the agency offices. It is The Saint, still wearing the same clothes, except they are even filther than before. This time he has his girlfriend in tow and she is described by The Scout to me as a "certified crackhead" . While the poor Scout is Polaroiding the sullen Saint, it is the girlfriend who is posing to the click of the camera, though the camera is nowhere near her.
To edit the epic. Agency signs Saint. Cleans him up. New socks, fresh boxers, toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant. Houses him in the model apartment, despite the protests of the other male models that "dude reeks!". But true to our scout's instincts, The Saint talkes off, not with commercial clients but with the directional crowd. He is placed in NY and is now poised to sweep every damn men's campaign in sight. Now when you ask The Saint how his day was or how a shoot went, he looks at his perfectly manicured nails sighs and says "OK. I guess. They told me I was amazing. When do I get my money?"

The above story is of course, atypical. Most male models that are scouted and developed from the LA scene are nice, well fed , middle class All-American athlethes and surfers and volleyball players with stunning white smiles. Or at least look like the part when they are tourists from other countries. See the above Polaroids of LA Models' Austin Victoria. He is what you call LA market perfection. A lot of male models are actors who treat modeling as a stop over on the way to matinee-idolhood. Few of them ever care to cultivate a name, mystique or legacy in the world of modeling proper. One of the few is Johnny Zander. We sat down with him for an extensive interview which I'll be transcribing today. The guy, I must say is impeccable. He showed up to the interview in a perfect hat, shirt, trousers, shoes and a knee length coat so beautifully cut I assumed it was (vintage) Dior Homme. It was Commes des Garcons. I didn't have a camera with me. Damn! I was weeping that LA music sucks. He recommended the band, "She Wants Revenge" and an on-line radio show, "Morning Becomes Eclectic" as the salve to my pain. Thanks Mr Zander. Interview to be posted on what I hope to be a quiet Sunday. Otherwise as my journey through LA winds down the volume of info is going into overload. But at the Motorola launch (where strangely enough I never saw a phone or an image of the new phone) the massive white space of a warehouse had a dove gray carpet installed specially for the event, which I imagine they'll throw out at the end. Posing in front of the ole step and repeat was JC Chavez and his current beau, Brittany Murphy, Perez Hilton etc etc and the only reason I know this is because my chaperone whispered it into my ears. I think I need a subscription to US Weekly.