No Filter by Paulina Porizkova

Author:Paulina Porizkova [Porizkova, Paulina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

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Then something shifted. Once I made my first Sports Illustrated bathing suit cover, I was asked to do interviews. To the public, I began to have more of a voice and a personality. And to my surprise, I was sometimes disliked. I had no idea that hearing me speak would shatter some peoples’ notions of who I was.

I just answered all questions honestly. I noticed that people wanted to know more about me. What I ate for breakfast and what TV shows I watched. This heightened my sense of self-importance but did nothing for my self-confidence. I became simultaneously more arrogant and less secure. I knew that I was being celebrated for something I was not—and this just made me more fearful that I would be found out; that people would discover that I wasn’t actually beautiful, that I was still just “poor little Paulina.” This all happened so gradually that I didn’t realize what was happening until it had already happened.

It was around this time that I met Ric. When two famous people meet, the bubbles around them can easily merge, just like real soap bubbles. I think this is why famous people often hang out with other famous people. You can connect with that person right way. It’s almost like being an American living in a foreign country. You’re surrounded by people who eat, who sleep, who dream like you, but the moment you spot another American, you’re instantly sucked into a bubble of shared commonalities.

There is an assumption that being famous means that life is more comfortable. And it’s true that fame often comes with wealth, and wealth does indeed make life comfortable. But the more famous you are, the more constricted your life also becomes. It’s as though the more famous you are, the smaller that bubble around you gets. Ric had a much smaller bubble than me. When I was alone, I could do things that Ric could never do, like go grocery shopping or take the kids to school without being accosted. But when we were together, I was drawn into his tiny bubble. He had been living in his small bubble for a long time, and it suited him perfectly.

The deep problems with existing within the fame bubble only really became clear to me when I began dating in my fifties. My husband had died, my boyfriend had left me, and my children had moved out. I was desperately alone, and not at all accustomed to it. When I complained about the lack of available men, I was told to go for real people, real guys. In other words, not famous. I ended up at dinners with doctors and lawyers and real estate developers and bankers. The result was always the same. They were so consumed with staring at themselves in the reflection of my bubble, it was impossible to connect.

My first task at the beginning of any date was to try to puncture the bubble and humanize myself. To allow them to see me, not their idea of me.

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