I, ANDRE J AT rans gender model Andreja Pejic’’s influence is being felt by men and women, tastemakers and avid followers of fashion alike.
Transgender model Andreja Pejic’s´ influence is being felt by men and women, tastemakers and avid followers of fashion alike. Both gentle and fearless, the 25-year-old spoke to Vogue while packing her bags to go out into the white-hot desert of Nevada, headed for Burning Man to find herself, though it’s plain to see she already has.
When I was a child, I was more introverted and academic. I was raised by a single working-class mum, who was educated, so it felt like the best way for my brother and I to have better lives was through school. Things like acting and modelling weren’t really sensible choices. I thought about a lot of different possibilities – I had a wild imagination. Every kid thinks about modelling or acting, but that would be a fairytale; it wasn’t something concrete.
When I was 16, I was discovered at McDonald’s, where I worked part-time after school. The talent agent liked my look. I was a teenager exploring my youth and the world, and I had a bit of a punk style. It was just a way for me to express my femininity through a subculture, rather than having to explain to people that I’m trans. No-one really knew what that even meant back then, and when I was discovered, it didn’t seem like I’d fit in.
The agent who approached me was from [Sydney-based modelling agency] Chadwick. I was already blocking my puberty, but I planned to transition when I finished high school. I looked at the models on their website and I didn’t know where I’d fit in with what, to me, seemed like a very classic female or male body.
But then I gave it a shot – why not? It seemed a lot easier than working at McDonald’s, so I signed with them. They took an interest in me from the very beginning and they could see that a lot of creative people were excited about working with me. At the time, I just felt it was an opportunity to see the world and to make some money to pay for my transition. So I put some things off. I put college off. I put my transition off. So that phase of androgyny, which was supposed to be a temporary phase, was extended and the fashion industry found it quite interesting.
It was a double-edged sword. I had a solid idea about who I was before modelling, as I’d figured out I was trans very early on with the help of the internet. Then I began seeing doctors.
“I KNEW HOW I FELT; I KNEW I HAD TO LIVE MY LIFE AS A WOMAN … NOW I FEEL MORE FREE”
I was already starting that long, multi-layered process. I knew how I felt; I knew I had to live my life as a woman. But for fashion, I felt like I needed to extend that period of androgyny because people liked me. I was this kind of unisex canvas that could morph: you could style me as a woman or as a man – albeit a pretty man, thank you very much!
I felt like there was pressure to maybe hide the fact I had gender dysphoria, because that’s something I felt that people, even in fashion, didn’t understand until recently. Even in this industry, as open-minded as it is, there was a stigma with being trans, which was seen by a lot of people as just from the club scene or something for a show or not for anything serious. No-one really knew the human experience behind it all and no-one really respected it. I did get the feeling I shouldn’t associate myself with that, but obviously that’s what I was.
I felt like I needed to complete my transition and live my life truthfully. It just so happens that it wasn’t a bad thing for my career, after all. I just got to a point where I was like: “Okay, I’ve made enough money to pay for my surgery and to have a little bit of padding.” Two years ago, I decided to take that step and I felt like my career was either going to end or it was going to change. But the times we’re living in are better for this community than they’ve ever been in terms of acceptance, and so it ended up being a positive.
I’m proud of the career I had before my transition. When I was younger, a transition meant changing your surroundings, your whole identity, and you kind of borrowed your past. I don’t want to do that. I’m proud of the things I’ve done. I’m proud of having been Jean Paul Gaultier’s muse – doing all of his men’s, women’s and couture shows – it was cool. It inspired a lot of people. I feel like [Brazilian-born transgender model] Lea T and I were the only people at the time doing that, and I’m happy to have gone through that, but now I feel more comfortable than ever. And more free. It doesn’t feel like I’m waiting for something. Life is complicated either way, you know. You discover new challenges and new obstacles. But when it comes to self-love and confidence, it’s greater than it’s ever been, and I feel cute.
Fashion is an industry full of very creative and talented people, but I’m not a huge fan of the elitism and exclusive tendencies that end up taking away some of the experience and creativity. I’d like to see a bit more humanity and more people truly caring about the rest of the world and being more open to diversity. Not just embracing something because it’s a trend or a fad or a cute hashtag, but also truly opening up to what real people are going through. I feel like modelling is definitely changing in some ways. It’s becoming a bit more democratic. In the same way, it’s so obsessed with the rich and famous at the moment, so in a way it’s more open to diversity but it’s more elitist than ever.
I’ve worked with several people who push boundaries and have gone against popular thinking. Marc Jacobs is one. I originally did his show and I worked with him at the beginning of my career and I’ll probably work with him again. For me, it was nice to show that someone has respect for what I’ve gone through and really cared. And Jean Paul Gaultier is someone who’s pushed the limits … he doesn’t hire models just because she’s the hottest thing. It’s someone he truly believes in, someone he’s dedicated to. Models are people; we want respect just like everybody else. I also have to mention Raf Simons.
When I was younger, I had a pretty strong sense of style; it was very rock’n’roll. I’d buy cool denim and rip it up and tear up band T-shirts and wear leather gloves. I definitely had an idea of the way I wanted to dress, and I put effort into that. When I got signed and started reading i-D and Dazed & Confused, that kind of shaped my understanding of what it is to be cool.
Now I put a lot more thought into my style and what I wear. Sometimes I can’t decide whether I want to look like Mommie Dearest or Almost Famous; ultra-chic and classic or boho rock chick. It’s a mishmash. I love Vetements, Balenciaga, Raf Simons, Gucci and Phoebe [Philo] at Céline. I’m that kind of girl who’ll wear a gown to a grocery store.
I think there’s a level of social responsibility for anyone famous or remotely publicly known, as you can reach a lot of people and you can enlighten them. I think singers, models, actors and actresses back in the day succeeded by being a little more antiestablishment than they are today. I think everything has gone quite corporate. So it’s certainly part of my personality to shake things up and to resist the status quo.
I think everything is relative to the time you’re living in and I’m living in a time when being trans, or a trans woman, is still something rare and unique. Hopefully, that’ll change, but there’s a level of media and a lot of human interest in your life. So I do feel that I should be as truthful as possible.
I get messages every day from young people all over the world who discover my story about publicly coming out. They find a lot of strength in that. Whenever I’m feeling this lifestyle is a bit empty, I have this huge reserve of people that I can tap into and just read their messages and find so many beautiful things. These young people are suffering, especially those living in the outskirts of working-class suburbs in Australia or America, and they can’t afford the treatment; they don’t have many options. Plenty of people are still in very difficult situations.
I’m very, very close to my mum. She’s my heart and soul, the woman I always wanted to grow up and be. She sacrificed so much for her children. I love single mothers, all on their own. I don’t think I’d be here or be this sure of myself without her. I recently took her on a trip around Europe, and then she came to New York and we went to Paris, Spain and London.
In this industry, you’re surrounded by people who give their whole lives to this and you have to put just as much effort in. There’s such a huge social component to our industry. In New York you always have to be out having meetings and all the things you have to do outside of work hours. I’m actually pretty bad at keeping in touch. Having said that, many people in my life I’ve known since high school and from the beginning of my career, so I think that’s a testament to me being a pretty good friend when push comes to shove. You’d be surprised … it’s hard to find that in this industry sometimes. It’s difficult to find a strong connection, human connection, that’s like family. I definitely have a good group of those people behind me.
I’m a planner in life; I like to plan the next 10 years. But things often happen differently than how you envision them, so I’m trying to learn how to come into myself a little bit. I’ve dabbled in lots of acting [on Turkish television] – I know it’s a very cliche thing for a model wanting to get into acting. What’s new? I want to keep doing cool things. I like modelling and I think I’m pretty damn good at it, so I never want to completely turn my back on that. Maybe one day I’ll write a cool autobiography, an exposé of the 21st century – like a new Glamorama.