Model Prisoner

Sasha, the doll-faced Estonian, said she was too busy going on castings - but we all knew she`d been putting on weight and the agency wasn`t sending her out.

And another girl was napping on the sofa - or maybe she was passed out drunk; it was hard to tell.

I had come to the model dorm several months earlier, out of desperation, after getting fired frommy 12th restaurant job.

I was almost ready to call it quits and move back in with my parents. But then my friend, a booker at a modeling agency, offered to let me stay in the dorm until I got back on my feet.

For those not in the know, model dorms are apartments where agencies put up girls until they start earning enough money to get their own places. And for the record, these are real New York apartments - miniscule dimensions, windows overlooking ventilation shafts-no "Real World" lofts here.

The girls shared a tiny 10-by-10-foot room with cheap Ikea bunk beds crammed into it. Any sleeping that took place did so amid piles of runway samples, lingerie and other random gifts from wealthy suitors.

When I moved in, we told the girls that I was the booking agent`s gay cousin. Guys weren`t allowed in the model dorm - though it certainly didn`t stop some of the girls from sneaking in Hugo Boss models for late-night romps.

Luckily, I had the relatively luxurious master bedroom, which had its own bathroom and saved me from the excruciating waits while some of the girls purged, snorted and flat-ironed themselves into "modeldom."

The girls took to me quickly, whisking me with them past velvet ropes. Sometimes when they were drunk, I would get the gossip about who was sleeping with whom and which rival model they secretly wanted to force-feed carbs.

To the wranglers, I was just another mouth to feed on their tabs at Cipriani - but they put up with me as long as I didn`t steer the girls away from the clubs. It was a fair trade, I suppose; free dinner and drinks in exchange for lending their beauty to attract a crowd of bottle-service-buying bankers.

Partying in the club VIP areas got tired quickly. For the girls, however, it was an escape from life in the model dorm.

At castings, they were told they just weren`t pretty enough. At night, they shared a cramped apartment with girls who were their competition, so it was intoxicating for them to be the center of attention.

Or on second thought, maybe it was just the free champagne.