J. Alexander - Follow the Model: Miss Js Guide to Unleashing Presence, Poise, and Power

FOLLOW THE MODEL

MISS JS GUIDE TO UNLEASHING
PRESENCE, POISE, AND POWER

J. ALEXANDER

Simon Spotlight Entertainment
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Copyright 2009 by Alexander Jenkins

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Simon Spotlight Entertainment hardcover edition November 2009

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Designed by Jaime Putorti

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Alexander, J. (Runway coach)
Follow the model : Miss Js guide to unleashing presence, poise, and power / J. Alexander.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-4391-4990-4
ISBN 978-1-4391-6517-1 (ebook)
1. Alexander, J. (Runway coach) 2. Models (Persons)United StatesBiography. 3. FashionBiography. 4. Success. I. Title.
HD8039.M772U535 2009

650.1082dc22 2009019939

this book is dedicated to:

My late grandmother, Sadie Grant Cohen Carter, who taught me the value of a dollar and allowed me to use her sewing machine pre-drag.

Who gave birth to my late mother, Mary Elizabeth Cohen Jenkins, who gave birth to me and allowed me to be post-drag.

And, finally, to my late father, Julius Montrolius Jenkins, who saw the vision before I did and said, Boy, you are so damn crazy. If I was rich I would put you on TV.

Well, Pops, Im on TV. And it cost you nothing, just your support.

Love,
Your son and grandson,
Alexander
a.k.a. J. Alexander
a.a.k.a. Miss J

CHAPTER ONE
MOTHER KNOWS BEST

CHAPTER TWO
WHITE WOMEN

CHAPTER THREE
HOT CHILD IN THE CITY

CHAPTER FOUR
THE BIG BREAK

CHAPTER FIVE
A RUNWAY COACH IS BORN

CHAPTER SIX
AMERICAS NEXT TOP MODEL: THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER SEVEN
YOU GOTTA WORK. NO, SERIOUSLY.

CHAPTER EIGHT
DADDY J.

CHAPTER NINE
SPIRIT IN THE SKY

CHAPTER TEN
CHANGES

CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE END (FOR NOW)

Theres no getting around itthe church is the reason I am who I am today. I thank Jesus I ended up a man with a killer stride that has the power to burn footprints into a runway.

I learned the golden rules that every human being needs to know while attending St. Augustine Catholic Church in the Bronx with my mother, but it wasnt the sermons that changed my life.

It was my christening gown.

The dress was a gorgeous, duchesse satin ivory affair, covered in lace and a matching lace bib. The outfit came accessorized with a tiny coordinating hat and slippers, one of which I still have to this day. (The prince still hasnt shown up though.)

Catholics know how to dress for an occasion. Yet, even as a baby, looking out over that congregation, I sensed I was the classiest-looking person in the room. I hate to brag, but I put every lady in her flowered Sunday hat to shame.

That was my first coming-out party. It would have been perfect but for one little mishap: On my christening certificate, my name appears incorrectly. Instead of Alexander Jenkins, someone had spelled it Alexanerd.

I told you they were jealous.

Looking back at that major moment in my early life, its no wonder I ended up a six-foot-four black man with a love for the look of fine gowns and an encyclopedic (yes, almost nerdlike) knowledge of the fashion industry. From the second I popped out of my mothers womb I knew I was meant to be someone. And I sensed I was meant to share everything Ive learned along the way with the world. So sit back with me, kick up your heels, and let me teach you a thing or two about life, work, love, and of course, fashion.

And just for fun, lets see if I can do it without once mentioning the word fierce.

I was born April 12 at 10:10 AM and I moved straight into our family home on Clinton Avenue in the Bronx. I was number seven of ten kids. In birth order there was: Barbara Ann, Ronald, Steven, Stanley, Beverly, Reginald, me, Phillip, Phyllis, and Valerie.

My family is one-eighth Jewish on my grandmothers side, so I wont blame something like Catholicism for my mothers house full of kids. I think its more that my parents were deeply and madly in love with each other and liked to express that affection in, well, the most elemental way.

Sometimes, to my dismay, quite loudly.

Despite the amount of love in that house, from the beginning we were like the Kennedys of the South Bronx. There was always some sort of horrific tragedy besetting us. My mother, Mary Elizabeth Cohen Jenkins, buried six of her children before passing away herself. At age ten, Reginald fell and never recovered from a concussion. Barbara Ann died of breast cancer at age twenty-three. Steven left us at age forty-four from an aneurysm. My baby sister Valerie died of AIDS at age twenty-nine. Stanley died of a heart attack at age forty-eight, and Ronald died too young, at age fifty-four, from throat cancer. Consider this my first bit of advicedont smoke.

My family is like some Greek tragedy come to life, with characters dying off left and right. I dont mean to sound callous or flip about it, but its a fact of my life that Ive experienced a lot of loss. Ive had to learn to mourn and move on. Im a firm believer that you must move on. Ill get more into this philosophical stuff later.

Growing up, my mother ruled our house like a five-foot-three-inch dictator. She could be very strict and, lets say, physically communicative if she felt she was being disrespected. But I dont mean that in a bad way. It never had to do with her being a mean or evil person. She was simply scared that if one of us kids disrespected her, then we would feel it would be okay to go out into the world and disrespect others. If you were breaking rules in the house, she was afraid it meant you would break laws out in the real world and end up in jail. She wanted to raise us better than that. If it took an occasional wallop upside the head to get that lesson through, well, that was just her way. And to be perfectly honest, it worked. Not that Im advocating anything.

Dinner was at seven oclock every night, no matter what. There were too many mouths to feed, so there had to be some order to the chaos. She would always set a place for every single child in the house. If you missed the seven oclock sit-down, you missed dinner completely. The first chance was your only chance. If any of us missed more than one meal, wed sneak into the kitchen for a bowl of Capn Crunch or Froot Loops after everyone had gone to bed.