In a world where early retirement often seems like the ultimate goal, there are those rare individuals who defy this norm by continuing to work passionately well into their later years. One such remarkable individual is Carmen Dell’Orefice, 93, celebrated as the world’s oldest working model. Let’s dive into her extraordinary journey and the lessons we can learn from her enduring career.
From humbling beginning to Vogue fame.
Carmen Dell’Orefice’s story began when she was discovered at the tender age of 13, in 1944. It’s hard to believe that such a fashion icon could come from such humble beginnings. Growing up, her family faced significant financial struggles. Modeling was just a glimmer of hope in a rather challenging upbringing.
Her first attempt at fashion was far from glamorous. In fact, it was an epic flop. But, as they say, the road to success is often paved with failures.
Just two years after her initial setback, Carmen graced the cover of Vogue at the age of 15. This was a monumental moment, marking the beginning of a legendary career in the fashion industry.
In 2023, Carmen was featured on the cover of Vogue Czechoslovakia, making her the oldest working model in the world. Her timeless beauty and elegance continue to captivate audiences globally.
She faced life’s hurdles, from financial struggles to failed marriages.
Carmen’s early life was fraught with financial difficulties. Her modeling work barely supported her family, so she and her mother also worked as seamstresses to make ends meet. This challenging period taught her resilience and perseverance.
1Her marriage to Bill Miles in the early 1950s added another layer of hardship. Miles exploited her career, collecting her modeling agency checks and giving her a mere $50 from her earnings. Yet, Carmen remained steadfast and continued to rise above these challenges.
Carmen then chose to marry photographer Richard Heimann. However, their marriage was also short-lived. When Carmen stepped away from the modeling industry in 1958, Richard left her.
Facing financial difficulties, Carmen Dell’Orefice made a bold comeback to modeling in 1978. Within just a few years, she was back on the covers of top fashion magazines, showcasing her timeless elegance. Ever since, she has been tirelessly working, featuring in numerous magazines, spearheading advertising campaigns, and strutting down catwalks for prestigious fashion brands.
She shared her secret to timeless beauty and longevity.
One of Carmen’s profound insights into maintaining beauty and longevity is the importance of self-care and self-love. She once said, “Men and women should care for themselves and love themselves. One of the secrets to maintaining beauty is doing what you do for a baby, nurturing and feeding the baby with love. That’s what we should do with ourselves: nurture ourselves, love ourselves, and give that kind of energy to ourselves.”
Carmen embraces aging with grace and dignity. She has never shied away from her age. Instead, she has used it to her advantage, proving that beauty truly knows no age.
Carmen’s unwavering passion for modeling teaches us that retirement is not an obligation but a choice. If you love what you do, there’s no reason to stop, no matter how old you are. Her life is a testament to resilience. Despite numerous challenges, she has continued to thrive, proving that with determination, one can overcome any obstacle.
Another inspiring supermodel is Daphne Selfe, 96, who still makes waves in the fashion industry and hasn’t given any sign of stopping yet. Read her story here.
I COMPLAINED ABOUT MY NEW NEIGHBORS’ HORRIBLE FOUNTAIN & RECEIVED A THREATENING NOTE FROM THEM.
The quietude of Elm Street, once a symphony of birdsong and gentle laughter, had been shattered. The arrival of the new neighbors, the Morlocks, had thrown the idyllic tranquility of their little community into chaos.
Initially, I had tried to be welcoming. A plate of freshly baked cookies, a warm smile, a friendly “Welcome to the neighborhood!” But my overture had been met with a chilling silence. The woman who answered the door, pale and gaunt, had regarded me with a suspicion that bordered on paranoia. “Ew, it smells awful,” she had muttered, her eyes darting nervously around as if I were some sort of disease.
Then came the fountain. A monstrosity of wrought iron and gargoyles, it stood imposingly in their yard, a constant, jarring presence. The incessant gurgling and splashing, day and night, had become the soundtrack to our lives. Sleep became elusive, replaced by the monotonous drone of the water.
The neighborhood, once a haven of peace and camaraderie, was now a battleground. Tempers flared. Arguments erupted at the weekly community meetings. Finally, a vote was taken – a unanimous decision to request the removal of the fountain.
And so, the unenviable task of filing the official complaint fell to me. I, the self-proclaimed peacemaker, the neighborhood’s unofficial ambassador of goodwill, was now the bearer of bad tidings.
That evening, as I returned home, a small, ominous package lay on my doorstep. No return address. A shiver ran down my spine.
Inside, a single sheet of paper, scrawled with menacing handwriting:
“I KNOW YOUR SECRET. YOU WILL BE POLITE TO YOUR NEW NEIGHBORS, OR EVERYONE WILL KNOW.”
Fear, cold and clammy, gripped me. Who was it? The Morlocks? Or someone else, someone watching, someone waiting for the right moment to strike?
The following days were a blur of paranoia and unease. I checked every window and door lock multiple times a night. I slept with the light on, the faintest sound sending shivers down my spine. My once peaceful neighborhood had transformed into a place of fear and suspicion.
The police, after much persuasion, agreed to investigate. They questioned the Morlocks, of course, but they denied any involvement. The woman, her face gaunt and drawn, maintained her innocence, claiming she was simply trying to enjoy her own property.
The investigation yielded nothing. No fingerprints, no witnesses, no concrete evidence. The threat remained, a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface of our seemingly idyllic community.
I started carrying a small can of pepper spray, my hand instinctively reaching for it at every rustle of leaves, every unfamiliar sound. I avoided going out alone at night, my days filled with a constant sense of unease.
The incident had changed me. The once friendly, outgoing neighbor was now withdrawn, suspicious, constantly scanning the shadows for signs of danger. The peace and tranquility of Elm Street, shattered by the arrival of the Morlocks, had been replaced by a chilling sense of fear and uncertainty.
And the fountain, that monstrous, discordant symbol of their arrival, continued to spew its icy water, a constant reminder of the darkness that had seeped into the heart of their once idyllic community.I COMPLAINED ABOUT MY NEW NEIGHBORS’ HORRIBLE FOUNTAIN & RECEIVED A THREATENING NOTE FROM THEM.
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