Lessons Read online

  Life can be magical. But living it well takes work, focus, patience, compassion, determination, and discipline. Jealousy, or comparing yourself with anyone, is a toxic recipe. Jealousy only produces feelings of never being good enough. I believe we are—each of us—singular in our own way. We each have something unique to offer, which only we can give to the world.

  Many women, I know, are simply overwhelmed. Whether they are in high school with too many activities in their schedules, or in their thirties and forties being run ragged while trying to be a good mom, a perfect wife, a star at work, or all three, they spend almost no time alone. They’ve lost a connection to nature and to themselves. They’re looking for answers outside themselves, not realizing that the answers that matter most are on the inside. There was a time when I was that person. So naturally I’m also writing this book to my younger self. If someone had shared these lessons with me when I was in my teens and twenties, maybe my own ride would have been a bit easier. And I want to share these lessons with my own children, too. I always ask myself, In what way could I help them cope if they weren’t my children? Or if I weren’t here? How can I leave them something valuable and important? The lessons contained in this book are the ones I most want my own children to learn and remember as guiding lights in their own lives.

  For twenty-three years I was a student in the school of fashion, and one of the first things I discovered was how shallow it could be. A lot of the time being a model made me feel torn and guilty. Modeling was never my passion or my identity. It was a work opportunity that appeared when I was very young, and I took it. That isn’t to say I’m not extremely grateful for all the opportunities I was given or to the people who offered them. Today, whatever visibility I have is because of my work in fashion, and now I can use some of the tools I’ve acquired to bring more attention to projects that are closer to my heart and that I believe can have a positive impact in the world. Most people know me only as an image. An object. A blank canvas on which they can project their own stories, or dreams, or fantasies—which, ironically, was the same approach I took at work when I became she, and her! For twenty-three years, I’ve also been an image without a voice. I have this in common with lots of women. Haven’t most of us gotten the message that our voices aren’t worth hearing, whether we’re being ignored in a meeting, or criticized online, or reduced to a bunch of body parts? Allowing myself to be open and vulnerable—not her, but me, Gisele—is very scary. I won’t be able to detach or hide anymore. At the same time, take it from me: nothing feels stranger than to be the object of someone else’s projections. To be known but also unknown no longer feels right to me. Life is not always easy, nor is it a fairy tale, and we all go through challenges, no matter who we are. By speaking up, I hope I can inspire other women to do the same, especially at a time when women need to support other women more than ever. After all, changes only come about when we are willing to stand for what we believe.

  During the Gauchos Day celebration, Horizontina, September 1986. I was the one in the orange dress.

  The lessons in this book are not rules. As someone who has always questioned the status quo, I certainly don’t want to become anyone’s status quo. Some of these lessons may come across as common sense or familiar. My goal is simply to interpret specific beliefs in the context of my own life and experiences. And like most people, I’m still learning as I go and trying to improve every day. If these lessons are useful, great. If one, two, or all eight of them don’t resonate with you, let them go and move on. Remember, I grew up questioning anyone or anything that claimed to have the answer, and you might feel the same way. I’m not pretending to be an authority or an expert even for a second. I’m no better or worse than anyone else. These lessons have simply worked for me and helped make my own life better by giving it deeper meaning.

  Still, if you walk away with just one message from this book, I hope it’s the importance of living your life with love. Loving yourself. Loving other people. Loving the world in which we all live. Throw away everything else, but please, please don’t ever live your life without love.

  1

  It All Starts with Discipline

  Discipline is a hard word to love, especially when we’re young. Can’t I put off thinking about that for a few more years? It’s a word that sounds like it belongs in the military or a boarding school, or on a list of rules and regulations that keep us from doing what we want to do. Discipline can sometimes seem like the enemy of fun or happiness, a grown-up plot designed to drown out joy and inspiration.

  It’s really not that at all. Discipline is also more than just hard work, but that’s where the process starts. Ever since I can remember, I have been extremely organized and hardworking, whether I was helping my sisters clean the house, playing sports, doing well in school, modeling, or, even today, being a wife and working mother. Which is why I feel such a strong connection with this first lesson: It all starts with discipline. I believe that whatever success I’ve achieved in my life is the result of focus, hard work, dedication, being on time, doing what is necessary, what was asked of me, and always giving 100 percent to everything I did—and I still approach my life this way. In other words, discipline.

  In our house, discipline mattered. With six children, all girls chattering away at the same time, it was a necessity. My mom, for one, was always running around, working as hard as she could to take care of all of us. Every morning at six a.m., she woke up and made us breakfast shakes using avocados or bananas or apples that she mixed with milk and a little bit of sugar, or sometimes she made us torradas, which are sandwiches with melted cheese inside. Afterward, she or my dad would drop us off at school, and my mom would go to work, coming back home at noontime so we could all eat lunch together. On weekends she got up even earlier to wash our clothes and to make and freeze meals for the week ahead.

  The day Pati and I were born, July 20, 1980. My sisters and my maternal grandmother came to meet us.

  We always took family photos in front of the Christmas tree in one corner of our house. Top, left to right: Raque and my twin sister, Pati. Bottom, left to right: my grandfather on my dad’s side, Walter; Gabi; Fofa; me with my mouth open; and my paternal grandmother, Lucilla holding baby Fafi.

  With eight people sharing three bedrooms and two bathrooms, my sisters and I understood early on that we were expected to help out. Each of us was given a cleaning assignment before we were allowed to go outside and play. When Raque or Fofa rang the bell, it was off to our stations. I was usually in charge of cleaning the bathroom and often I spent a long time scrubbing between the tiles with a toothbrush until you could have eaten a meal off the floor. To be comfortable I’ve always needed my living spaces to be clean and organized. If my surroundings are messy, I can’t even think properly. My sisters and I also each served as the unofficial “mom” for the sister just below us in age. At age eight, I remember changing my sister Fafi’s diapers, and then helping my older sisters fry up empanadas in the kitchen that we’d helped our mom make from scratch—dough folded and sealed over fillings like chicken, beef, or cheese and spinach.

  Good girl, my parents used to tell us whenever my sisters and I did something well. When we were polite. When we did what we were asked. When we worked hard, got good grades, or played a good volleyball game. But even when things didn’t go according to plan, my mom and dad always made us feel we’d done the best we could if we applied ourselves and worked hard. Good girl was a big compliment. It always made me feel proud of the effort I’d put in.

  Whether I was scrubbing bathroom tiles, studying hard to do well in school, or playing sports, I always brought an intense focus and motivation to everything I did. At age ten, when I started playing volleyball, I told myself that to get good at it, I needed to practice at least two hours a day. I decided I would train as hard as possible to make the team, and maybe the team one grade above mine. The way I approached schoolwor
k was no different. If I wasn’t strong in a subject, I would stay up all night studying if necessary until I got an A. Discipline was never a faraway idea or something I’d grow into later in life. It was always a part of me—doing my best, making my parents proud, not letting anybody down. If I wanted to succeed at something, I wouldn’t just envision what I wanted, or wait for it to show up, or expect someone to hand it to me. I knew I had to do the work to make it happen. Even if I was scared and it felt impossible. I always gave 100 percent of my effort because if I gave anything less than my best, I knew I’d get upset with myself. Yet underlying my sense of discipline was the strong feeling that whatever it was I set out to accomplish, I could do it if I worked hard enough. Even when I was afraid, I never felt defeated. I felt challenged.

  My friend Maqui, me, my friend Karina, and my sister Pati in our paquitas outfits just before our performance at Horizontina’s music festival, 1992.

  As time went on, I became more disciplined, probably because I could see direct results. At age fourteen, when I left my hometown and family to move to São Paulo to pursue a career in modeling, I was determined. I told myself, I’m not going to go back home empty-handed. I’m not going to disappoint my parents and my sisters. I’m going to work as hard as I can and do what I have to do, even if that means working all day and all night. Without discipline, I might have taken the next bus home. The work could be intense, and I missed my family. Often I was lonely. But I stayed in São Paulo and kept at it. One opportunity appeared, followed by another, and then another. I kept pushing myself.

  By 1999, after I signed a contract with Victoria’s Secret, I was working 350 days a year. During a typical season, just one day included modeling in up to six shows, followed by the fittings for the next day’s shows. Hair and makeup could start at six a.m. and the fittings at times lasted until dawn. It didn’t matter if I got to bed at two a.m. the night before—I needed to do fittings. I showed up every morning on time. It really wasn’t a very glamorous scene. Only rarely did anyone offer me a glass of water, and some people felt free to be critical to my face. In my teens and twenties, I remember meeting one beautiful model after another—there were so many. I could barely believe it when, somehow, I was the one who ended up getting hired for many of the jobs. Why? I have to believe that discipline played a big role. I worked very hard, but I also tried to be fun to be around. All jobs are collaborations, and modeling is no different. I was never late—not once. I was 100 percent committed. One time on a job in Iceland, I was told to stand on a floating fake iceberg in the middle of a glacier, wearing only a string dress. I was freezing, and afraid I might slip and fall into the frigid water, and yet I just smiled, doing my best not to show how panicked I felt. I told myself that it didn’t matter if I was shivering or if my lips were turning blue. I was going to do the job well.

  Inside a little boat going to shoot the commercial in the middle of the icebergs in Iceland, 1998. It was freezing!

  I truly was just happy to be there! I felt so appreciative for every opportunity I was given. Why wouldn’t anyone doing what I was doing feel like the luckiest person alive, even when pressed up against a glacier? Plus, I do believe that one reason I became good at modeling is that I wasn’t naturally photogenic. There are lots of models who look fantastic on film. But I felt I wouldn’t look good just standing in front of the camera. I had to become animated, more like an actress or a dancer, in order to create a special moment. It was important for me to do my job well, but also to never let modeling define who I was. I actually never became a model; I did modeling. Typically I’d work all day, and then go home to cuddle with my dog, Vida, and read. I wasn’t interested in parties, glamour, fancy clothes, or late nights. I was happiest going home and starting a new book.

  These days, when I can, I still do modeling jobs. I love to work. I love being creative, and my work offers me so many opportunities to learn. I love learning, and taking advantage of new experiences is part of my nature. But it hasn’t always been easy, and it certainly wasn’t a straight shot. Today I take nothing for granted—I never have. I plan to keep working hard and continue to give everything I do 100 percent. It’s the only way I know how to be.

  I believe if you want to succeed, there are four fundamental steps—or at least this has been true for me. Clarity comes first.

  Everything in life starts with a dream. But first the dream needs to be clearly defined and, more important, you need to understand why you want it. At fourteen, and at twenty, and at twenty-seven, I never said to myself, “My goal is to be a great model.” Rather, my emphasis was to be the best at what I do, which means giving my best. Honestly, I could have been in any number of professions! Still, whatever I ended up doing, I knew I would have to be the best at it. Not the best compared with others, but the best version of myself.

  In my experience, clearly defining what you want gives you direction and the inner fire that can motivate you. Maybe you’re a B student who wants to get As. Or maybe you want to be good at sports. A terrific wife and mother. Successful at your job. A great human being. Maybe you want to work out regularly or meditate every day. Then be very clear with yourself up front. How will reaching your goals serve a larger purpose? Why does it matter to you? What are you willing to do to come closer to achieving your goals? What do you need to get there?

  It’s also important to set reasonable expectations. I know from personal experience the danger of setting the bar too high and, if you do, how easy it is when you come up short to start criticizing yourself or feeling like a failure, when the truth is that you weren’t being realistic.

  Once you’re clear about what you want to achieve, next is focus—taking the many small actions to propel yourself forward. This is where the hard-work part comes in. What will it take for you to reach that goal? Do you need to change your daily routine or eliminate certain behaviors, or even some people, from your life? If you’re a B student who wants to get all As, it might mean that you start getting up an hour earlier to study, or ask for extra help from your teacher, or form a study group. You might also look for a mentor or role model who can show you the way.

  I was in São Paulo in 1996, walking to Blockbuster Video in the rain, when I heard mewing. I brought the little cat home, hid him, and named him Fominha—Portuguese for “the one that eats everything”—since whatever I gave him he would devour in two seconds. When I learned I couldn’t bring him to the United States, where I was moving a few months later, I made sure he found a good home.

  The third step is dedication. This means staying on track over the long haul, and giving yourself credit for what you’ve done well, but also concentrating on those areas where you need improvement. How are you practicing? How are you measuring your own progress? Are you focusing on what you already do well, or are you also stretching yourself by targeting the things you may be less good at, and then trying some problem-solving? In my experience, hard work and dedication aren’t the same thing. Dedication includes a commitment to a specific goal or ideal. A lot of people work incredibly hard, but some don’t stick with the steps needed to achieve what it is they really want. You may set a number of goals for yourself, but without dedication they won’t become realized. Who has a better chance of becoming a successful musician: the pianist who practices an hour a day or the one who practices four hours a day? Dedication means putting in the time towards what you want, and love, the areas where you want to achieve excellence. Dedication says, I’m going to keep on going, no matter what. Without dedication, you’re less likely to see the benefits of all your hard work. If focus means saying yes to hard work, dedication means saying no to distraction—to the activities and even the people pulling you in different directions or pushing you to give up. Be honest with yourself: What do you accomplish in a day? Is your time consumed by answering texts and emails? Are you making progress or just getting caught up? I kept putting one foot in front of the next, eve
n when I was teased by my schoolmates, or felt homesick at age fourteen, or was rejected. I moved forward, one casting after another. Of course there were times when I missed my parents and my sisters terribly, but even though those moments were painful and distracting, they were only temporary visitors. They came and they went. At the same time, I wanted—I needed—to show myself that I could do what I set out to accomplish.

  The fourth step, humility, is especially important to me. If you’re clear, focused, and dedicated, and you end up succeeding at what you set out to do, you might believe you deserve special treatment. Well, you don’t! Most people don’t have an easy road to the top of any profession. We all face challenges along the way that force us to grow and learn. I know I am no exception. When any level of success is reached, that’s the time to reflect on all your challenges. Yes, you may be unusual. Your skills and talents may make you stand out. You may work, as I do, in a public profession. Good for you! But, to my mind, the moment you start thinking you’re better than anyone else, your achievements don’t matter very much. You fall to the bottom rung of the ladder. But if you have humility, you achieve something more important than worldly success: you become a lifelong learner. Humility allows you to grow from your mistakes, to know that everyone and every experience can teach you something. In my experience, it opens the doors to a bigger, more meaningful life.

  At the end of the day, how different are we from one another? We’re all students in the “School of Life” on this earth. Our campus is a tiny blue dot floating in space. And who are we, really, in the face of all this immensity?