My Time On a Korean Competition Show - Part One - The Selection
I realize I’ve never told you how I ended up at one of the top model agencies in Korea. I know I’ve teased it here and there on the blog. I’m sure I’ll get around to that eventually.
There are only a few agencies that dominate the fashion market so you might be able to narrow it down a bit, but one of the biggest giveaways is that The Agency doesn’t just represent some of the top models in Korea; it also has a heavy interest in producing tv shows.
Many Korean entertainment and talk shows are backed by The Agency. In fact, it’s thanks to one of their model competition shows taking off years ago that this agency really got its start.
When I’m casually watching Korean tv, I’ll see familiar faces pop up all the time. I was watching tv with Cedric’s niece and nephew a few weekends ago, and I suppose my constant, “oh look, that’s so-and-so,” was noticeable.
“외숙모!” Cedric’s niece exclaimed, “you know everyone in Korea!”
That’s not really true, but I have met a lot of people, in all kinds of circumstances. And I’m sorry to do this to you again, but let’s not talk about how I made it into The Agency just yet. Instead, I want to tell you about the time I ended up on one of their tv shows.
Photo from Screenrant
Korean programming ranges from the emotional deep-dives about the war to Jack Black on 무한도전 trying to blow out a candle while wearing a stocking on his head. A post-Covid surge of Korean popularity combined with the recent writers and actors strikes in the U.S. has meant Korean production has been gaining a new audience and, I suspect, a fresh influx of studio money.
It’s a curious thing to see how mainstream Korean entertainment is becoming worldwide. I remember back in 2021 walking through 이태원 station and being bewildered by an enormous set up of a plastic doll sitting on what looked like a jungle gym, and men in pink jumpsuits standing around. Then Squid Games blew up on Netflix.
But the show I was on happened before Korean programming became so Western-minded.
What's it like being on a Korean competition tv show? In 2018, The Agency held a model reality show called Supermodel Survival. Think "America's Next Top Model" meets American Idol, but very, very much Korean - intense beauty standards and all.
My phone rang one morning as I cheerfully headed to SF Bagels through the back alley streets of Yeonnam-dong neighborhood, where I now lived. Since quitting The Agency, I had spent many mornings just walking through the neighborhood, luxuriating in my freedom. Those few weeks were some of my happiest in recent years.
I had already left by the end of 2017, but The Agency was keeping tabs on me. It was late spring when they called.
“Hello?” I said, probably eating yet another cheddar jalapeño bagel. SF Bagels were a recent discovery and I was consuming them at an alarming rate.
“Becky? This is Agent J. How are you?” a familiar voice piped up in my ear.
I silently cursed when I realized my error of answering the phone. Agent J had been a particularly unpleasant person to work with at The Agency. She was the office clown and made all of the uppers laugh, but she treated anybody lower than her with poorly hidden disdain.
“Who is this?” I said, with pretend confusion.
“나야, 베키! 너 벌써 잊었구나. It’s me, Becky! You forgot me already?” she gave a false laugh. “요즘 ~엄청~바쁘겠지만 우리 사무실로 놀러올래? I’m sure you’re very busy these days, but can you come to the office?” She took on a wheedling tone, “너한테 좋은 기회가 생겨서. We want to talk to you about an opportunity. It will be very good for you.”
I sighed. Sure, I wasn’t busy. I was eating three bagels a week and going on two hour walks every morning while listening to Stuff You Should Know podcasts on repeat. I was, in fact, supremely carefree.
My old team leader had messaged me to come visit a few times already, but I danced around giving a straight answer. I never had any real reason to go except for some vague, vengeful plan to show them how great I was doing on my own. In truth, I was a little curious about what she had to say.
“Sure,” I said, “I’ll come by sometime this week.”
“Great!” She said, “Looking forward to it!” and hung up the phone abruptly.
A day later, I brought up the call with two old high school friends as we hung out in a Yeonnam-dong cafe.
“Do you think I should I go?” I asked, already regretting the phone call.
Friend One shrugged.
Friend Two said, “well, it has to be a big reason, otherwise they wouldn’t have called you in. Maybe you should just go check it out.” At my pained expression, she gently reminded me, “they don’t own you. You can always turn it down.”
My curiosity won out over my reluctance, and after briefly considering ghosting them entirely, I found myself standing outside of The Agency building later that week. I took a deep breath and walked inside.
Instead of taking the stairs like I had been told to do every day when I worked at The Agency (to burn calories), I decided to take the elevator in a moment of defiance. Elevators were reserved for the uppers and important guests. I imagined everyone seeing me step off the elevator like a VIP. What a silly, tiny rebellion, and I liked it.
But it didn’t lead to anything. The fourth floor hallway was empty and quiet. Everyone must be at their desks, I thought as I glanced around. My burst of bravado on the elevator seeped away the moment I stepped off, and I hesitated as I stood before the shaded, glass door that had a tiny, silver sign that read DIRECTOR. I steeled myself and raised one hand. Knock, knock. With two taps, I announced my arrival.
“Come in,” a voice said. I pushed opened the door to reveal Editor M sitting at her desk.
She was one of the precious few people at The Agency who actually had cared about me. She was also one of the few who was married with kids. I wondered more than once if there was a correlation between those two facts, as many of the people at The Agency who had treated me badly were unhappily single woman in their 30s and 40s. While those people tended to treat me like I was a disposable part of their model-making machine, Editor M often asked me how I was doing, and told me I could talk to her if I was ever having trouble. I never took her up on that offer.
Editor M smiled as I came in, the glass door swinging shut behind me. To my dismay, she was surrounded by some agents and upper managers of The Agency. They all turned and looked at me at the same time, like a many-headed monster. I had a sinking feeling that I was walking right back into the trouble I had just escaped a few months ago.
“안녕 베키 Hello Becky,” Editor M said, pleasantly. “너를 기다리고 있었어. 들어와서 앉아. We were waiting for you. Sit down.”
To be continued…
Keep reading for What’s It Like Being on a Korean Competition Show? Part Two - Let The Fun Begin