English Version | A star is reborn

But the life of Paulina Porizkova was guided by other battlefields besides Fashion: a childhood without parents, an early-age career, and even a long marriage capable of causing her both the greatest joys and great sadness. Vogue Portugal had the privilege of hearing a piece of her story.

Much has been said about the supermodels of the 90s. The fashion world has paid them — and thankfully — loads of tributes. After all, they were the ones who gave the modeling profession an extra allure. Women who were beautiful long before filters and fillers. And today they continue to do so. Paulina Porizkova started her modeling career early on. She was 15 years old and had a wealth of physical attributes that were impossible to go unnoticed. Except for herself: “I didn't believe I was beautiful — in fact, I didn't believe it until very recently. In my book, The Good, The Bad and The Beautiful (2022), I tell how I suffered from bullying at school — because, they said, I was 'too tall', 'ugly'... I had no idea I was even a little bit attractive when I found myself cast as a model. And I just thought: 'They don't know I'm ugly. They haven’t found out yet, but they might find out tomorrow’. It was as if I was just waiting for the moment when someone would discover that, in fact, I wasn't pretty at all — the so-called imposter syndrome.” She admits that it was very confusing for her when people asked her what it felt like to be so beautiful: “I said ‘I don’t know, I look in the mirror and what I see isn’t remarkable to me’. And she thought: 'I'm happy that this person thinks like that, and I shouldn't even say how wrong she/he is, they'll probably end up finding out' ”. This speech could very well come from someone who likes to ‘play innocent’. It's not the case. We talked and it became clear that Paulina, now 58 years old and as beautiful as when the fashion world discovered her, was unable to see in herself the beauty that everyone saw. Psychology explains: external beauty is far from being synonymous with proper self-esteem. And, generally, regarding self-esteem, many paths end up leading to childhood. Paulina was orphaned by her father and mother. She had a grandmother who raised her, but there was always 'something' she was missing. “As a child I didn’t think about it much, I was with my grandmother and I felt safe. But there was always something, a discomfort and the ever-present idea that there was something wrong with me, because my parents didn't want me. I think this was something I carried my whole life. That I wasn't good enough to have the right to true love, to really be seen, heard and accepted just as I am. So, I always had to cheat a little, I had to ‘tap dance for love’”. This is the type of trauma that a person only realizes when they reach a certain age. We begin to identify certain patterns, to put two and two together. “We spend our lives looking for the parents we didn’t have in these ‘failed’ relationships, always hoping that ‘this time they will love us’”.

At the age of 19, she met the man who was her husband and the father of her two children, Richard Theodore Otcasek, lead singer, guitarist and composer of the rock band The Cars. “That’s when I found my sunlight – I didn’t know I was looking for it, but I found it.” Ric Ocasek, as he was known, was “obsessed” with Paulina. She became “his treasure.” In a way, he made her feel loved: “At that time I believed that was love. I couldn't leave my husband's side. We spent 24 hours a day together; I wasn't allowed to have friends other than his; I couldn't go out alone. Everything had to be done with Ric. At the same time, there was underlying ‘mistreatment’: he rejected everything I liked or ignored what I didn’t like; he disdained my thoughts. Strangely, it made me feel like he was seeing the real me. Because there were aspects of me that he loved and aspects that weren't so good, and that he pointed out. And that feeling told me that he saw all of me.” Nowadays, psychologists would say that it was a co-dependent relationship and perhaps even a little toxic, I point out. However, things are not that linear — as they never are when the theme is love. “I felt like I had found my person, who I would be with for the rest of my life. And honestly, if he had continued to 'worship' me, as he did for so long, if he had continued to 'cherish' me, I would have stayed. I only realized that I was only ‘valuable’ to him as an object, and not as a person, when the marriage ended.” He says that the end of the marriage was a slow decline, as is the case with so many other marriages. “I was busy taking care of our home, our children and all social matters. I started to feel competent and very capable. I was ‘the captain of the ship’. And I think he felt emasculated. It was the end of that ‘adoration’ for me. I was becoming a woman. I was 19 when I met him and 52 when we separated — most of my life was spent with him.”

With marriage, her career as a supermodel had become secondary. She admits that, for her, that way of making money in exchange for being beautiful — which, on top of it all, she didn't even consider to be true — was not a reason to be proud. Much less to her husband, who made it very clear “how ‘stupid’ that job was.” Even so, Porizkova participated in 17 films — she “loved acting.” Writing came later, a job immediately approved by her partner, since it was an occupation that kept her at home: “He never read anything I wrote, he wasn't interested. But he was very supportive of me being at home. It was the perfect scenario (laughs).” And it's also no lie that taking care of your family can be a full-time job: “For many people it's their life's purpose and it's not a false purpose, it's a good purpose. But I think a lot of us women get lost in this, when we put other people's needs before our own all the time. Then the family grows, the children leave, and we are left with nothing.” One of the questions she wanted to ask him was precisely this, how easy it can be to lose ourselves in others — whether in family or romantic relationships. She tells me that a few hours before our interview she was talking to her therapist about this very thing: “I am now in a new relationship and I am very afraid of losing myself. I don't really know how to balance this thing of being an independent woman with dedicating myself to a new partner, to a new relationship. I don't know how to navigate this boat, as in the past I was clearly terrible at doing so. (…) When I look back at my marriage, I remember that the answers to my questions, the decisions I made, were often contrary to what I believed in. I made the decision my husband wanted, even if it made me feel insecure. But today I can see that this rule can even be easy to apply, that I can guarantee that all my decisions don’t sound wrong.” Quite rightly, Porizkova draws the following reasoning: “For someone who grew up with my childhood trauma, the act of making a decision that is not based on your own needs is automatically included in that 'tap dancing for love' package I mentioned earlier. It takes a lot of strength and understanding to know how to separate the two. And think ‘I can tap dance for love all I want, but the final decision, whatever it may be, has to be mine’”.

Love, this constant search for external validation, is, as a rule (or so psychology argues), closely linked to the issue of parents — or, in this case, their absence. And its discovery can be in different places — even if delusional. “It’s very easy to confuse fame with love. The fact that we have all our attention focused on ourselves can isolate us. Using a metaphor: fame puts us on top of a mountain, where everyone can see us. And everyone shouts: ‘Bravo, you’ve reached the top’. And think, 'how lucky is she, up there and we're still down here'. Meanwhile, the ‘famous’ person is at the top, alone. You can even have a good view. You can see all those people waving. But they could also be showing the middle finger and we don't realize it because we're far away. There is no connection, there is no understanding, there is no conversation. You get bored and lonely. It’s cold, it’s windy.” Paulina considers fame an isolating element in her life. She couldn't go out to “make friends”, because she always had her name “attached”. “Connections with other humans become impossible, thus limiting yourself to people you already know, which makes the group quite small. Even when you feel like you no longer belong there, the artificial bubble remains.” Fame can come from these things, making people see things as they are. “The world is not a safe place. It’s not how it works. The only true assurance we only find within ourselves.” The world is also a school, I add. This school of life, in which we can choose to learn from difficulties and evolve as human beings, or not.

Porizkova agrees: “There is no learning without pain. If we are comfortable, we just want to be comfortable. Why change if everything is great? Pain is, indeed, necessary for growth. Suffering, however, is different. I do not believe that suffering is necessary for learning. Suffering can even mean that you are unable to learn anything. It could sink us. It’s a very great misery, of a very deep kind, in which we are not able to learn anything new because we are too busy suffering. For example, when someone we love dies and we are grieving. This moment won't teach us anything, it's just misery. All we can do is sit down with him and give it some time. There is nothing to learn, other than the ability to overcome.” And she maintains: “In life, we can go to war with pain or we can victimize ourselves. And there's no harm in being victims for a while when something terrible happens to us. But staying in that place will leave us bitter. And bitterness teaches nothing.” The top model's entire speech is that of someone with both feet on the ground. Paulina did not lose her sweetness, her charm, but learned with distinction to carry the teachings of life and apply them wisely. “I don’t really believe in happiness. Which doesn't mean that I don't like being happy and that I don't like making other people happy. But happiness is a moment. Pain and mourning are also moments. Nothing lasts forever. It's about purpose. What is my purpose in life? If the answer was happiness, I would be in trouble. What I look for is a purpose, with moments of joy.” She continues: “Life will conspire to make each of us the person we are meant to be and I think the big lesson is to accept that. Acceptance brings us freedom. I don’t like living based on cliché concepts like ‘love yourself’. I don't think we have to love ourselves in such an unconditional way, because we all have things about us that aren't 'loveable' at all. And it’s good that we recognize them so that we can at least try to fix them.” Sometimes happiness doesn't need words, it simply limits itself to being there, printed. And Paulina looks radiant. “It’s love,” she suggests as she smiles with her eyes. “But also the fact that I find myself in a very good place, probably the best place I've ever been in my life. And it's almost shocking to find myself there at 58. Isn’t it great?”

Translated from the original on The Fame Issue, published October 2023. Full credits and stories in the print issue.