The Truth About Luxx Model Management

Don't know what Luxx Model Management is? Luxx is the agency in Milan where I worked for six months. The agency whom I flew to Italy for, whom I cut my hair for, bought new clothes for, worked my ass off for. In the end I made them a pretty penny, I was owed my cut. It's been two years since I returned. I have not received a cent. 

My introduction to Luxx was when I arrived, hair carefully placed, my plane clothes billowing in the dramatic air of a bustling city. One of the first instructions I received were "you know you can't look like that at a casting." Why yes, I did in fact know shouldn't wear the leggings and sneakers I wore on a 15 hour flight to a casting.

The next place I was whisked to was my model apartment. Apartment is a term I use loosely. It was a photography studio with a couple of cots stashed away on an elevated shelving unit. I shit you not. 

Over the months I worked a lot, mainly hair shows, video shoots, and promotions. There were some shoots that I did because I knew the money was worth it. Not weird stuff- just hair cutting and dying outside of my comfort zone. But alas, the agency convinced me (and lied to me) that the results would be fine and I would get a good cheque from it. We all know how that went.

Now I've been the nice guy. In the beginning I was sweet as pie when asking for updates. In the modelling world, the standard amount of time to be paid out is 90 days after the contract ends. After that passed, I started being a bit more persistent. Sweet with a hint of sour. Each passing month I was promised it would be coming within the week. Over and over again. Deadlines passed, promises were broken, my patient wore thin. After a year came and went, I started getting blunt. I started demanding my money. I continued being ignored. Weeks would go by of consistent emailing and a response seldom. I started getting angry. My demands became more threatening. Since I was hardly getting a reaction, I began posting to their facebook page. Doing anything I could for them to acknowledge I existed.

This has been the constant battle I've been facing for the past two years. And enough is enough. They've had plenty of warning, they've had heaps of time to do the right thing and pay out my account. But they didn't. So here I am, laying it all out there and washing my hands of this stress. I'm done begging, done pleading, done demanding. I'm putting my experience out into the universe to be done with it. I'm sending away this negative energy and hoping it decides to pay them a visit.

Did I have an incredible time in Italy? Absolutely. Did it change my life? Totally. But dealing with the aftermath of this agency has been poison and I can't let it spoil my memories anymore. 

An unlikely moment of clarity came from watching the hit 2010 comedy, "Eat Pray Love" a movie about a writer not happy with her upper class life. While our experiences are different (I wish I could experience hating upper class life) the message is still the same: "I decided on my word: "attraversiamo" it means "let's cross over" " and that's what I'm going to do. Cross over from the hopeless pleading and into acceptance. Accept what is lost and move forward. But, of course, not without a fight (and a snarky blog post-- take that!)

XO Lex