By Babak Baniasadi, Vision Times contributor
In 1990, Linda Evangelista gave “Vogue” magazine a quote that would go on to live in infamy: “We don’t wake up for less than $10,000 a day.” It was the kind of statement that made the average person choke on their morning coffee — and sent designers quietly reaching for their calculators. Spoiler alert: The math didn’t work out in Linda’s favor.
But that one line — delivered with the poise of someone who believed she was irreplaceable — became the epitaph for an entire era. Because as it turned out, no one is irreplaceable. Especially not in an industry built on youth, image, and the “next big thing.”
Who rules the world? The Big 6!
The late 1980s and early 1990s were the golden age for supermodels. Back then, the fashion world crowned its “Big Six” as: Naomi Campbell, Cindy Crawford, Linda Evangelista, Christy Turlington, Claudia Schiffer, and Kate Moss. These women weren’t just models; they were put on a pedestal as global icons.
Their black-and-white “British Vogue” cover in January 1990, shot by Peter Lindbergh, changed everything. They appeared in George Michael’s “Freedom! ’90” video, walked arm-in-arm down the Versace runway to the same song, and received standing ovations as if they were performing on the most acclaimed of stages.
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Cindy Crawford then went on to land a multimillion-dollar with Revlon deal and was offered a job as host of MTV’s “House of Style.” Naomi became the first Black model to grace the covers of “TIME,” “French Vogue,” and “British Vogue.” Christy Turlington was dubbed the “Face of the 20th Century” by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Claudia Schiffer earned $12 million in 1995 — the kind of paycheck more commonly seen in Hollywood than in high fashion.
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They dated rock stars, inspired copycat trends, and even co-founded the ill-fated Fashion Café, which we’ll get to later. These ladies became the epitome of fame, well-known enough to go by first names only: Just “Naomi” or “Cindy.” Like Madonna or Cher, but with better bone structure.
In a pre-internet world, there were no behind-the-scenes vlogs, no “get ready with me” videos. They existed on glossy pages and catwalks — untouchable, mysterious, and impossibly glamorous. They were the last generation of celebrities whose private lives actually remained private.
Crunching the numbers
But by the mid-1990s, fashion houses began to realize the balance of power had shifted. The supermodels had become bigger than the brands themselves. People remembered Naomi’s walk; not necessarily the Versace dress she was wearing.
Designers started looking elsewhere. After the fall of the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe opened up an influx of young, anonymous models willing to work for a fraction of the cost. No attitude, no “$10,000 a day” quotes, and no celebrity boyfriends distracting the public from the clothes.
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As Vogue’s associate editor Charles Gandee explained, “As clothes became less flashy — as Versace gave way to Prada — designers turned to models who were less glamorous, so they wouldn’t overpower the clothing.” Translation: They wanted hangers, not headliners.
Meanwhile, magazine editors discovered a shortcut: Instead of building fame from scratch, they could borrow it. By 1998, Vogue’s September issue — the industry’s biggest — featured actress Renée Zellweger on the cover. The month before? Oprah Winfrey. The month after? Halle Berry.
Celebrities sold more magazines than models ever could. Julia Roberts, already a household name stemming from her success as a leading actress, didn’t need the introduction a newcomer did. Why invest in a model’s fame when you could rent a movie star’s audience?
TIME magazine then sealed the verdict in November 1998 with an article titled “The Fall of the Supermodel.” The opening line was blunt: “The supermodel is dead.”
Even Fashion Café — the celebrity-themed restaurant backed by Naomi Campbell, Claudia Schiffer, and Elle Macpherson — was collapsing. Nothing signaled the end of an era like a supermodel-branded chain going bankrupt.
The age of nepotism?
The next blow came with social media. When Instagram launched in 2010, mystique became obsolete. Relatability was now the new luxury. Why go after the mysterious and illusive, when you could have 50 million followers watching you sip on a green smoothie?
Models who were once seen sparingly now posted dozens of selfies daily. Scarcity vanished; and so did the aura. As the aspirational became accessible, no single face could dominate the global conversation.
By 2015, even modeling agencies admitted that follower counts mattered as much as razor-sharp cheekbones. “Models must now have 10,000 Instagram followers to land a gig,” one industry report noted. The job had transformed — you weren’t just a model anymore. You were now a content creator, an influencer, a brand in constant motion.
Enter the new generation of supermodels: Kendall Jenner, Gigi and Bella Hadid, and Kaia Gerber. Notice a pattern? They’re all the children of famous parents. Kendall’s a Kardashian. The Hadids’ mother is former model Yolanda Hadid. Kaia’s mother is none other than Cindy Crawford — a literal second-generation supermodel.
These so-called “nepo babies” came with pre-packaged fame. Brands didn’t need to build stars when they could book someone who had a massive following an was already trended on social media.
In 2017, Forbes named Kendall Jenner the highest-paid model in the world, earning $22 million — yet most people knew her from “Keeping Up with the Kardashians,” not the runway. She became a celebrity who modeled; not a model who became a celebrity.
A wide-open runway
Today’s fashion world isn’t broken; it’s diversified. Brands now cast models from across the spectrum: TikTok influencers, plus-size models, and even their own employees. It’s more democratic, more inclusive, and more representative of real people.
But in democratizing beauty, something vanished. There are no “Big Six” anymore — no singular faces that define a generation. Can anyone name a model from the last runway show they scrolled past?
We’ve traded six unforgettable women for six million forgettable ones. The modeling industry, worth an estimated $13.3 billion globally, has splintered into a thousand micro-stars. The spotlight that once defined icons now diffuses into the crowd.
Naomi Campbell, now 54, still commands the runway. Cindy Crawford’s daughter has eclipsed her fame. Kate Moss makes more headlines for her vintage style than most models do in their entire careers. The originals endure; perhaps because the public remembers when being exceptional truly actually meant something.
The power paradox
Linda Evangelista’s “$10,000 a day” quote was meant as a flex. Instead, it became a warning to the industry. The supermodels were so powerful, so expensive, so irreplaceable that they forced an industry-wide course correction. They proved models could outshine brands — and the brands vowed it would never happen again.
So next time you scroll past another influencer’s sponsored post for teeth-whitening strips or detox tea, remember: There was once a brief, glittering moment when six women were so untouchable they accidentally made themselves extinct.
Being beautiful used to be enough — until everyone realized it didn’t have to be.
Editorial note: Views expressed in this article are the opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Vision Times.
