The Eternal Life of the ’90s Supermodel

Bluejeans and little black dresses may be forever, but fashion’s essential promise is change and reinvention. In the same way that clothing styles evolve season after season, the models wearing those looks are in constant flux, articulating whom we consider beautiful, cool and powerful at any given moment. Modeling careers generally aren’t long, though, and depending on how you look at it, the industry’s churn can be thrilling or unnerving. It’s fun to talk about trends in makeup and shoes; it’s horrible to think about trends in people.

This fall, several new documentaries looked at the meaning and implications of the modeling industry’s shifting tastes. “The Super Models,” a multipart series streaming on Apple TV+, focuses on four generational stars: Naomi Campbell, Cindy Crawford, Linda Evangelista, and Christy Turlington. (All were executive producers on the project.) Ubiquitous and ultraglamorous, this tight-knit group of models helped define fashion and pop culture in the 1980s and ’90s, from Campbell’s hypnotizing runway walk to Crawford’s thirsty 1992 Pepsi commercial.

How did the Supers get so big, with such a lasting presence? In part, they had the good fortune of entering fashion at a time when designers wanted to celebrate women who were larger than life and full of personality. The Supers met the moment with the full force of their charisma, and they amassed a kind of power that gave them influence within their industry and choice in their careers. Against the advice of her agents, for instance, Crawford agreed to pose for Playboy in 1988, an unconventional move for a model of her caliber. “I said, ‘You don’t need to pay me a lot of money, as long as I can have control of the images, and I wanted the right to kill the story if I don’t like it,’” she says in “The Super Models.” Playboy expanded Crawford’s fan base and helped her land a job hosting MTV’s new “House of Style” program, putting her on a track for more mainstream opportunities.

In “The Super Models,” these moments of self-determination commingle with reminders that the modeling business is governed by gatekeepers. To model is to be chosen — by a scout on the street, by an agent, by a casting director, by fashion designers and cosmetics brands. By the early ’90s, fashion started worshiping new kinds of models, like the fragile-looking Kate Moss, moving away from the high-octane glamour of the ’80s and toward a more unvarnished look. Yet the Supers remained in the limelight by adapting, learning to slouch in their grunge-inspired outfits and sharing the runway with the newcomers.