For some, all it takes to be an e-girl is access to neon green liner, a bustier set and the ability to disinfect thrifted goods from Ampang Family Bundle; for model Cyii Cheng she’s truly that bitch but encompasses more than just squares on your Explore page. She was first brought up to my attention through a mutual as “a friend who does serious modeling”, a statement that I usually reciprocate with a snicker. I finally got to meet her over a varsity-level photography and styling workshop where she took part as an overqualified talent for students to pile ill-fitting samples on. Prior to having her change, she stood tall, quiet and unassuming. Once the clothes came on she became knowing, even for a gig that she wasn’t going to add towards her portfolio—it was amusing watching her shift between letting students make another poor stylistic choice and casually nudging them to do better.
Over the course of being acquainted I’ve witnessed a trajectory that I wanted to learn more about, whether it’s the personally-curated fits on her instagram or 10-feet-tall campaigns for public-listed companies. I asked if they were any other hats she currently wore or wanted to venture into, to which she replies “I’d like to think of myself as a creative.” The message was certain, but the tone bashful: she understands the connotations that come with the label. Styling is a relatively new role that she’s enjoying thus far, working with local photographer Pitt Ab Rahaman on an upcoming editorial where she was able to translate her personal style onto a set of new faces in the industry.
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Cheng regards her roots in modelling as a “pretty anticlimactic” story. What started off as a flight attendant course was quickly upsold into a modelling one, as encouraged by her father. “I never saw myself as a model, my dad didn’t either. He just saw it as a grooming class to make myself more of a lady since my mom’s not really around to teach me how to walk in heels or do my own makeup,” she explains. Once her potential was discovered, she was quickly thrown into the competition scene—The Malaysia Supermodel Search back in 2015 where she was placed first runner up.
When asked about what the competition has set her up for, she answers “Don’t expect to win. It’s fine—you’ll be getting lots of exposure anyway. Don’t beat yourself up if you don’t, and be aware of the politics that exist.” In a competition setting, contestants were mostly judged on looks and talent, like one’s ability to pose and walk. Unlike the pageant industry, only some competitions offer bootcamps, so models just need to come as they are. As a reality competition web series (she explicitly told me to not look it up), contestants were eliminated through challenges “just like America’s Next Top Model,” she adds.
“I never saw myself as a model, my dad didn’t either. He just saw it as a grooming class to make myself more of a lady since my mom’s not really around to teach me how to walk in heels or do my own makeup”
From a macro perspective, I asked what made Malaysia both a great and not-so-great environment for models to thrive. While she isn’t quick to proclaim that everyone’s not willing to pay, she acknowledges the poor exchange rate that makes it hard to benchmark against neighboring countries like Singapore. Where results and work ethic are subjective and passed through word of mouth, she notices how clients stick to the same faces. “Models who make it big, stay big for a long time until they get replaced, it’ll be nice to see a rotation of new faces.” The ability to thrive also depends on the types of jobs you would get in the local scene, where models could really make it big from Eid-centered fashion campaigns.
In an appearance-centric industry, race and identity become inseparable aspects to cater towards consumer perception and beauty standards. I inquired her anecdote as a professional in the industry: What’s the fascination with racially-ambiguous models, especially Eurasian or Pan-Asian talent? “The harder it is for them to tell you what race you are, the higher the chances that you’re gonna do better,” she offers. Unsurprisingly, we gathered that plenty of these decisions still reflect our fascination with whiteness that trickles down to casting decisions on campaigns and diversity on runways.
“Has there been a shift to work with more ethnic, local girls?” My choice for having “ethnic” to describe my fellow Asian peers in the industry was a struggle as I asked about the willingness to make local girls the faces of campaigns for more rigid brands. While Cheng commends on pages like @themodelslabkl showcasing local talent that signifies the industry’s growing embrace, there still needs involvement for the rest of us to shed light on newer faces. “Smaller, lesser known models still have it hard to break that barrier.”
“The harder it is for them to tell you what race you are, the higher the chances that you’re gonna do better”
While our previous sentiments weren’t statistical, rates become the most tangible form of benchmarking the phenomenon in the industry. As foreign models are charged higher than their local counterparts on the basis of temporary residencies and agencies, the questions to shed insight on other factors that justify the discrepancies remain open-ended and ongoing.
“People don’t talk about rates here, clients be like ‘Hey, please don’t discuss about your payment with the other models’, but I’m a nosy ass bitch who’ll ask and tell when someone asks,” she says in an attempt to foster equal and fair pay through transparent discussions with her peers. She doesn’t believe in being underpaid on the basis of experience and sure as hell recognizes the effort she clocks in even before cameratime. To her it’s not bragging, it’s about setting standards on being efficient and doing her job well. “It’s important to talk to experienced models who are willing to share,” as she cites AsNTM alum Rubini Sambanthan as one the girls who are “transparent as fuck”. It’s definitely worth noting the difference it makes when clients pay fairly, where quality work really gets delivered from saving time and effort.
Unlike depictions in popular culture, Cheng finds the modelling industry centred more on kinship than competition. “It’s always about being supportive and telling each other when someone needs to get paid better,” she acknowledges on her peers want to best for each other. She thinks It’s the only way the industry will turn out for the better, “It’s not a competition, and when someone sets a price that’s worthy of their work, they’ll set the standards for the rest of us.” A learning curve she’s set herself on among her peers is the ability to make connections. What started off as shyness at 17 in a competition space filled with peers who were relatively older was quickly misread as having an attitude problem. She recalls having told off as being “too quiet with a resting bitch face” during her competition cycle. Instead of attributing it to an introverted personality she recognises the communicative challenges from navigating in an environment of Cantonese and Malay-speaking peers having come from a mostly English-oriented social circle. The social references were just a little different.
To further demystify a job that’s more outcome than process-focused, I inquired on the other aspects that non-industry folk wouldn’t foresee about her role. While waiting time isn’t something notes as worth complaining about (especially when she’s getting paid), she cites that clients often justify payment by overlooking the time and effort spent beyond the five minutes on the runway. Sixty seconds for “actual work” gravely undermines the crazy call times, fittings and rehearsals. Through paying attention on set, she’s been able to extend her interests and skills towards photography and makeup, something that’s been extremely useful in creating her personal content. Castings, however bring on a whole other level of anxiety: uncertainty towards securing the job, and the looming imposter syndrome in a space filled with talented, beautiful faces.
“It’s not a competition, and when someone sets a price that’s worthy of their work, they’ll set the standards for the rest of us”
I proceeded to ask whether if she believes that being a successful creatives comes with the occasionally uncalled role of being an influencer. “It’s correlation, not causality—as the years go by I’ve been gaining jobs and followers, but I don’t think it’s directly attributed to my follower count. I could’ve gotten good jobs that turned into recommendations for more jobs.” While she acknowledges the importance of one’s follower count, she doesn’t want to be recognised as just an Instagram model. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just not her gig.
When we hire clout-heavy models, do we then hire them as models or influencers? While it’s easy and not uncommon to exploit models with small followings in exchange for exposure, the heavyweights on the other end could help leverage their clout by helping clients gain followers for a higher price. “That’s why people buy followers. It ruins the dynamic of running social media—do clients pay for your follower count or the content you make?” she ponders on the opportunities she’s given as an influencer. From a number’s perspective she doesn’t consider herself to be an influencer, but is certain towards putting out the content she personally gravitates towards instead of putting out “another shitty caption for a brand she’s not passionate about.”
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Something else that I was keen to ask but uncertain about the approach was on the topic of personal safety in the modelling industry, in light of predatory creatives who take prey on aspiring models on set. I wasn’t in the position to insinuate or wanted to come across hungry for material to sensationalize my piece, but I certainly wanted a model’s perspective on driving personal awareness. “I don’t think I’m in the place, I haven’t had any bad experiences,” her initial resistance was understandable. Upon further explanation, she offered her two cents. New girls are often approached with photographers who pay them hefty compliments on their style and offer to collaborate on some “sick art”. While opportunities like those are amazing to build one’s portfolio, Cheng thinks it’s important for these aspiring models to actually like the photographer’s work. Unpaid gigs and test shoots should be equally beneficial to all parties involved. On top of saying no, she also recommends asking questions, “They always tell you not to ask too many questions, ‘Why are you being so kaypoh (translation: nosy)?’ It’s important that you do, especially when you’re feeling unsafe. The location, the concept, what you’re wearing and all the additional information. If photographers aren’t keen on having chaperones, just say no.”
“So where does Malaysia go from here?” I asked.
While she praises aspects of the industry like Muslimah fashion that’s been getting traction, she strives for more individuality and creativity for the rest of the industry. “Don’t just look at London or New York. Think and make it big here,” she stresses. Although it’s difficult for young, new creatives to navigate an network-driven industry, Cheng wants us to put in the time and effort to fight for opportunities to get on potential clients’ watchlist. For the underground scene, she recommends supporting your friends, “Don’t go asking for free things or favors. If you want to show support, don’t try to get it cheap because you’re a friend.”
Ultimately, she sees the big picture. “If you’re making it big, it’s not a competition because the rest of us will make it big too.”
When she’s not busy posting fits on @cyiicheng, she’s helping you make your next purchase on Zalora