After the finale, the fashion press went wild. “Tanaka’s faceless army redefines masculinity” wrote one critic. “Finally, a show about the clothes, not the models’ cheekbones” wrote another.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she shrieked. “Saint Laurent. Exclusive. Twelve looks. And Marco—they asked for you by name. They said, ‘Send us the five-eleven one. He makes the jacket look dangerous.’”
The room went silent. The six-seven model dropped his kale juice. height for a male model
Marco’s agent, a chain-smoking woman named Sylvie who had discovered Gisele in a McDonald’s, sat him down in her chrome-and-leather office.
Except he was five feet eleven inches tall. After the finale, the fashion press went wild
“There is a new Japanese designer. Kenji Tanaka. He’s doing a show called ‘The Invisible Man.’ The concept is that the clothes are the only thing that exists. The models’ faces are obscured—hoods, veils, masks. Height doesn’t matter because the body is a geometric frame. He doesn’t care if you’re five-eleven or six-five. He only cares about proportion.”
Marco did. Standing in socks, he was now five-ten and a half. “You’re not going to believe this,” she shrieked
Kenji Tanaka, a tiny man with glasses thick as microscope lenses, inspected each model. He stopped in front of Marco.