In our day it was Cindy Crawford and Naomi Campbell.
Now every teenage girl’s pin-up is Cara Delevingne.
Gangly limbs, full-fat eyebrows, scowling catwalk princess with a jet-set lifestyle and Kate Moss as a bezzie, she’s their epitome of cool.
Your daughter, your niece – they want the Delevingne life.
A new era of fresh-faced teenage girls, harbouring the same impossibly haute hopes of a modelling career.
As she and her friends pose, snap and upload a fresh flurry of self-portraits onto Facebook, then fret their brows, ribs and hip bones don’t look prominent enough, doubtless you’re marvelling at how beautiful these girls are.
Particularly yours... so much prettier than Cara Whatserface, maybe her face could be her fortune, too.
Before you know it, you’re as sucked in as Mossy’s cheekbones.
My advice? Don’t put your daughter on that skinny stage.
Encourage her to see beyond the blinding catwalk spotlights and the person she sees – and probably loathes – in the images on her phone.
Urge her to develop her own talents rather than her camera face and washboard abs.
I’ve been in this job years and I’ve met countless young girls obsessed with becoming models.
All had hugely supportive parents shelling out on photo shoots, make-up lessons, deportment classes, tickets to the Clothes Show in the hope they’d be spotted by a London agency scout.
Yet I can count just two girls who ever made it big.
They were not the prettiest by any means.
Fashion houses and photographers only want girls who look unusual, other-wordly.
Even if your daughter fits the bill, why expose her to a life likely to reinforce every negative thing that today’s girls beat themselves up about?
You think I’m exaggerating?
Read on: repulsed Swedish doctors are seething after witnessing model agency scouts trying to recruit their ultra-thin, highly vulnerable patients as they enter and leave their clinic for girls with eating disorders.
How’s that for classic dysmorphia disorder?