Viviana had always been the center of attention, even before entering the cutthroat world of fashion. With her striking brown eyes, perfect skin, and a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, it was no surprise that she was signed up by a renowned modeling agency in Milan. At just 20 years old, she had already worked with a 2 small fashion houses, participated in some photo shoots, and walked a few of runway shows. Yet, despite her rising star, there was one thing Viviana didn’t fully grasp: the harsh realities of the fashion industry.
Viviana’s career was just beginning, but so were her struggles. She was beautiful, sure, but that wasn’t always enough. At 5’4″, she knew she wasn’t the tallest model in the room, but she was confident in her other features—particularly her long, glossy brown hair. It cascaded in soft waves to the middle of her back, and she had received quite a few praises from friends and onlookers about her beautiful hair. Her hair was a feature she was proud of and had carefully grown and nurtured over the last two years. However, Viviana had one flaw—her temper. She could be hot-headed and impulsive, and that, unfortunately, was starting to rub some people the wrong way. One of those people was Bianca, the head fashion director, a sharp, no-nonsense woman in her mid-40s who had been in the industry for decades. She was known for her sharp eye and even sharper tongue and everyone respected her—though they also feared her. Bianca’s reputation for tough love was well known, and her standards were unforgiving.
It was a Friday afternoon when the confrontation happened. The models were getting ready for the upcoming runway show, a prestigious event that could make or break any model’s career. Viviana had been assigned to a group of experienced models who were preparing for a high-profile show, but she felt sidelined. In her impatience, she had spoken out of turn, questioning why she hadn’t been given a more prominent slot. Bianca, overhearing her comment, had pulled her aside and said “Your pace is too fast, and you’re not owning the runway. This isn’t a sprint; it’s about elegance.”Viviana, who had been feeling the pressure of the upcoming show, commented back, her voice sharp. “I know how to walk. I’ve done enough practice. And I feel I have been sidelined”
“Viviana,” Bianca said coolly, her voice devoid of any warmth, “This industry is not about entitlement. You need to prove you can handle the pressure, the competition, the rejection, and above all, your own ego. Right now, you’re not ready.”
Viviana’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been working hard, Bianca. Maybe if you gave me a chance—”
“Maybe if you learned how to keep your mouth shut, your head down and learn ramp walking, you’d have more opportunities,” Bianca interrupted, her tone biting.
Viviana’s temper flared. She didn’t take insults well. “You don’t know anything about me! I’ve been busting my ass just to get here, and I’m not going to let you talk to me like that.”
The silence that followed was thick, like the air before a storm. The other models and crew members, sensing the tension, looked away. Viviana could feel Bianca’s sharp gaze cutting through her.
“You think you know, but you clearly don’t. You’re not listening to the feedback. The walk is just as important as your look—everything is important, Viviana. You’re not in some small photo shoot anymore. You need to learn the hard way, Viviana,” Bianca said, her voice now cold and unwavering.”
Viviana’s face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I’m not a beginner. I’ve been working in this industry for months!” She couldn’t keep the irritation from creeping into her voice. “I know what I’m doing!”
Bianca replies “You think you’re here because you deserve it? But the truth is, no one in this industry is entitled to anything. Not even your beautiful hair.” She gestured toward Viviana’s long brown locks. “Maybe you’ll learn some humility if you lose it.”
Viviana didn’t understand at first, her mind racing with confusion, embarrassment and anger. But before she could respond, Bianca asked the other models to go away and turned to the hairstylist, a woman named Rosa, who had been quietly observing the exchange.
“Rosa,” Bianca said, “Cut off all her hair. Take it down to something radical. I want her to walk in the hairstyle round today. Let’s see how she handles a real challenge. Give her this haircut” Bianca showed Rosa on her phone the haircut she wanted on Viviana. “I want Viviana to experience the reality of fashion, and I think a drastic haircut will do her good. She’ll learn not to take her beauty for granted.” she continued in a fury.
“Wait, what? Cut my hair? You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Viviana
Viviana froze, her heart hammering in her chest. “What? No! You can’t—!” But Bianca wasn’t in the mood for mercy. “I am deadly serious. If you want to be a successful model, you need to learn that nothing in this industry is guaranteed. Not even your precious hair.”
But it was too late. Rosa, a quiet woman with a calm but authoritative demeanor, was already stepping toward her with his scissors in hand.
Viviana’s hand shot up to protect her hair. “You can’t cut my hair! It’s all I have!” Her voice cracked, a mix of frustration and fear. Viviana’s heart sank. Her long brown hair—hair that she had been growing out for two years—was her pride and joy. She had always been known for its silky length, cascading past her waist in soft waves. It was one of the things that set her apart from many of the other models. The thought of losing it sent a jolt of panic through her body.
Bianca’s eyes were cold. “You’ll do as I say, Viviana. You want to make it in this industry? You’ll need to learn that no one is irreplaceable. No one is immune to the judgment of others—least of all you.” Viviana’s face flushed, but she could feel her legs shaking beneath her. The thought of losing her hair, the one feature she had always been proud of, was unbearable. But Bianca didn’t budge.
Rosa, seeing the distress on Viviana’s face, hesitated but then approached with the scissors in her hand. “It’s nothing personal, Viviana. It’s just a part of the business. You’ll get through this.”
“Sit down, Viviana,” she commanded. Rosa gently brushed through her hair one last time, before lifting a huge section of her hair and snipping the first lock away. Viviana winced as the scissors horizontally cut across the width of her hair. She could see the long strands falling to the floor, her once-beautiful hair now in pieces all around her. The sound of the scissors cutting through her hair echoed in her ears, and with each snip, the reality of the situation became clearer. Rosa worked quickly, cutting away all the length with scissors while tears welled up in Viviana’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. As the last of her hair strand was cut off, Viviana’s reflection looked back at her from the mirror. The once long, wavy locks were now gone, replaced with shoulder length shabby hair. As Rosa continued to carve out the shoulder length hair into a pixie cut, more brown hair clippings showered down the floor. Each hair clipping easily measured 3-4 inches long. Seeing this, Viviana wept openly, the tears rolling down her cheeks just like her hair rolling down, as she looked at the mirror which showed herself into a short, choppy haircut that was turning into an edgy pixie. It was sharp and angular, with a boyish flair that, while fashionable, made Viviana look radically different. Her eyes were wide with shock and grief. Even the long hair from the crown area were gone, replaced by a boyish cut emphasizing the delicate curve of her jaw and the high arch of her cheekbones. It was a look that exuded confidence, but for Viviana, it felt like an exile from her former self.
By the time Rosa finished, Viviana was trembling, her face pale. The floor around her was littered with the remains of her once-beautiful hair, and she felt an emptiness that went beyond the loss of her physical appearance.
Bianca stepped forward, her expression softening just a fraction. “You’ll be alright, hair grows back” she said, her voice almost reassuring. “This industry isn’t about what you think you deserve. It’s about resilience, adaptability, and knowing how to survive. Learn from this, Viviana.”
Viviana nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry… I was wrong. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I didn’t understand what this industry is really like.”
Bianca’s eyes remained hard, but there was something in them that softened slightly. “You’ll learn, Viviana. But don’t expect it so easily. “You’ll walk in the hairstyle round today, I don’t expect you to smile or look happy. Just walk with confidence, and learn to adapt. This is the industry, Viviana. There are no guarantees, no promises.” Viviana nodded, wiping away her tears. She had no choice but to obey.
The road ahead was uncertain, but Viviana knew one thing for sure: she was going to fight for her place in this industry. Even without her long hair, she was still Viviana, and that was enough.
And as she walked out onto the runway for the next round, she held her head high, ready to face the world, ready to face the truth.