Weight of a Pose

To many, the life of a model looks like glamour, travel, and flashing cameras. For Ceren, a Turkish model working in Shanghai, it often looks more like long hours, strict measurements, and homesickness tucked quietly under a perfect pose. One month ago, Ceren left Istanbul for the first time, stepping into China’s high-stakes fashion industry. What she found was a world of intense scrutiny—and unexpected moments of warmth.

The morning sun spilled over the outdoor tables of a Shanghai Starbucks, catching on a tall figure, effortlessly poised even in rest, scrolling absentmindedly through her phone. That's how I met Ceren, a model from Istanbul, just beginning her journey in Shanghai’s bustling fashion scene.

When I asked if she was working today, she laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"It’s a free day," she said. "My schedule is always changing. Modeling is like that—some days you're running all over the city, some days you're just waiting."

 In that simple answer, the rhythm of a model's life revealed itself: a constant dance between movement and stillness, expectation and spontaneity.

Ceren with her morning coffee, ready for a relaxing day

Ceren arrived in China weeks ago, and this is her first time setting foot on Chinese soil. Yet Shanghai, with its skyscrapers, neon lights, and restless energy, felt strangely familiar. 

"It’s very similar to Istanbul," she mused. "Very alive, very outgoing. But I miss speaking Turkish sometimes. It's hard when you can’t express yourself fully. It makes the homesickness stronger."

Language barriers aside, Ceren had found herself swept into the current of China’s fast-paced fashion world—a current that, as she confessed, wasn’t always easy to swim in.

"In China, modeling is very strict," she explained. "My agency measures me every week—hips, belly, everything. Clients want clothes shown on very slim bodies. I’m a woman; I have menstrual cycles. I can't control water retention or a few kilos up and down.”

She laughs a little, but the tiredness peeks through.

“I have to be so careful with every meal, every coffee, calculating calories…sometimes it feels endless. It’s stressful because you can’t control everything about your body. And yet, you’re expected to."

Her voice softened for a moment, revealing the quiet battles beneath the glossy surface of her work. Unlike in the West, where creativity and artistic expression often take center stage, Eastern standards, she explained, leaned heavily toward uniformity, precision, and physical discipline. Models in China are expected not just to embody an ideal, but to maintain it flawlessly, every single day.

"Sometimes, I stand for ten, twelve hours, doing nothing but staying perfectly still," she said. "No creative poses, no movement. Just standing straight and silent, to make the clothes look perfect. It's tiring not just physically but also emotionally."

Listening to Ceren, I realized that the glamour of modeling often hides a reality stitched with long hours, body scrutiny, and a fierce struggle for self-acceptance. The tension between artistic dreams and commercial demands ran like a seam through our conversation.

Yet despite the challenges, her love for the craft remained undeniable. Modeling, for Ceren, wasn’t merely a job—it was a form of creative expression, part of a much larger personal journey.

"Fashion, photography, writing—they’re all creative outlets for me," she said, her face lighting up. "When I go to castings or work on a shoot, I meet so many amazing people. Clients, photographers, other models—it’s like stepping into a new little world each time."

Each interaction, each fleeting moment on the runway or backstage, stitched a new layer into her story.

One memory in particular stayed with her:

"After a fashion show, when we finish walking and return backstage, the designers are so emotional. They hug every model, like we helped bring their dream to life. It’s magical—something that started as imagination becomes real, and you’re part of it."

She smiled as she spoke, and it struck me how often she returned to this idea—fashion not as vanity or spectacle, but as a deeply collaborative act of creation. For Ceren, modeling is more than the pursuit of aesthetics; it was about trust, teamwork, and the silent power of standing in service to another’s vision --- of bringing someone else’s dream to life. That connection, fleeting and fragile, was what made the hardships worth enduring.

The conversation drifted easily, touching on homesickness, future plans, and the sacrifices hidden behind glossy photos and polished runways. After China, Ceren hoped to continue modeling—perhaps in Japan, and later, in Europe."I’m just starting," she said. "Every place will bring new experiences, new lessons. I'm excited for that."

As the morning light slanted across the sidewalk, casting long shadows between the chairs, I realized that Ceren story wasn’t only about a Turkish model finding her way in a foreign country. It was about walking a delicate line, a balancing act—between control and freedom, between belonging and independence, between standing still and reaching out.

When I finally asked her what keeps her going through the homesickness, the strict measurements, the long hours, she smiled, wide and unguarded.

"It’s about creating something beautiful," she said simply, "even if it’s just for a moment."

There was no grand declaration, no carefully rehearsed answer—only a quiet truth, shaped by experience.

As our conversation drew to a close and Ceren slipped back into the steady buzz of the Shanghai afternoon, I found myself thinking about the reality she had revealed: how heavy it can be to hold a pose, to meet expectations, to carry beauty like a burden. For her, modeling isn’t just about wearing beautiful clothes or traveling the world. It’s about endurance. Poise. Standing perfectly still while life, pressures, and dreams swirl around her unseen.

And maybe that's the real art form: carrying the invisible weight of a pose, and making it look effortless.