Model industry plunges into glp-1 frenzy: a return to skinny and a crisis of trust
The runways are screaming a new reality: models are getting thinner, and it’s fueling a disturbing trend fueled by readily available weight-loss medications.
A generation of starvation and secret remedies
Samantha Benjamin, a former model who navigated the industry’s brutal demands in her teens and early twenties, describes a landscape dominated by whispered secrets and desperate measures. From illicit Adderall to parasite ingestion, the pursuit of a size zero was a relentless, often dangerous, game. Now, with the rise of GLP-1 drugs like Ozempic, the pressure has intensified, creating a troubling new cycle.
The glp-1 effect: a shorter path to thinness
“Girls are getting called fat. Nobody is mincing words,” Benjamin stated bluntly. The industry’s longstanding obsession with extreme thinness, exacerbated by medications like Wegovy and Ozempic, is driving a rapid return to the idealized aesthetic. Zoe Latta of Eckhaus Latta observes a clear shift: “Models have definitely gotten smaller.” The Vogue Business size inclusivity report confirms this disturbing trend, revealing the lowest levels of mid- and plus-size representation on the runway in three years.
A dangerous prescription
The pervasiveness of Ozempic is staggering – one in eight Americans has taken a GLP-1 since its FDA approval in 2021. The accessibility of Wegovy in pill form, costing as little as $150 a month, has only amplified the problem. But alongside legitimate medical use for obesity and diabetes, a dangerous potential for abuse looms. One major model agent candidly compares the drugs to “new-millennia cocaine.”
Lost momentum: body positivity faces a new challenge
The modeling industry has a history of grappling with unrealistic body standards, punctuated by tragic events like the 2006 and 2007 model deaths linked to starvation. Past reforms, including BMI requirements and the 2017 “model charter,” aimed to address these issues. However, the body-positivity movement of the 2010s and early 2020s, featuring influential figures like Ashley Graham and Paloma Elsesser, seemed to offer a genuine shift. Now, that momentum feels threatened, with skinny resurfacing—and GLP-1s are accelerating the trend.
Beyond the runway: a shifting landscape
Brooks Nader, a model and reality TV star, admits to “micro-dosing” Ozempic, claiming it boosted her career. Lottie Moss, Kate Moss’s younger sister, has been brutally candid about her experience with Ozempic abuse, ending up in the emergency room. Despite the pressures, Breuning remains steadfast, asserting her refusal to alter her body for professional gain. Yet, even she acknowledges a troubling decline in casting opportunities for plus-size models. “I feel too big for this industry sometimes,” she confesses.
The cost of conformity
The homogenization of body types on the runway poses a significant threat to diversity and individuality. “It’s homogenized; it’s not interesting; it’s the same as everybody having veneers,” Benjamin argues, highlighting the loss of unique characters that once defined successful models. Fashion brands, bound by business constraints, struggle to sustainably incorporate plus-size garments. “Nobody takes responsibility for it,” says Kyle Hagler, founder of No Smoking: Management and Consultancy Firm. “It’s tokenism.”
A systemic problem
Ultimately, the issue isn’t simply about what consumers want—it’s about the dictates of the industry’s power structures. As James Scully, a former casting director, emphatically states, “It has nothing to do with what a customer wants.” The industry’s inherent contradictions, fueled by a demand for extreme thinness and a reluctance to embrace inclusivity, are creating a dangerous and unsustainable environment. The pressure to conform, amplified by readily available medications, is pushing models – and the industry – toward a chilling new aesthetic. The rise of GLP-1s isn't merely a trend; it's a symptom of a deeper, systemic problem, one that demands urgent attention.