I was walking down the street one day, Prospect, in La Jolla, in the merry month of May, when I was taken by surprise: a woman calling after me, "Sir. Excuse me. Sir. Sir!" But this lady on Prospect was persistent. Had I dropped my cell phone? Did she think I was someone she knew? I stopped and turned around, trying to look good and roguish. An out-of-breath, middle-aged woman had caught up to me, and she was brandishing a business card in her outstretched hand. "Sorry to chase you like this," she said. "But have you ever thought of being a model?"

Was she joking? (The business card argued otherwise.) I mean, I was 33 years old, and I'd gradually come to accept the fact that I'm generally worse-looking and less desirable than I think I am (a conclusion drawn from countless unsuccessful seductive glances in bars and nightclubs over the years). I've got, shall we say, "difficult" hair, spaces in my teeth, okay skin, and although my body can be aesthetically pleasing, I don't usually work out very much, so I was a little scrawny as I strolled and tried to mind my own business on Prospect Street that fateful late-spring day.

"A model?" I said, trying hard to sound as skeptical as I felt. I scrunched my face. But it was too late. Rising within, from some deep root of myself that must have been ready to flourish and blossom in the sunshine-of-a-compliment, grew this feeling of being flattered. She'd better not be joking.

"You've got a great look," the lady said. "Very wholesome and 'American.' "

Okay, I thought. Whatever that meant. But it must be a good thing. And now I was letting the skepticism go so I could focus on the flattery. But wait. What's the catch? (Back to skepticism again.) She must want something. What did she want?

"All you have to do is visit the office where I work," she said, pointing to the card she'd handed to me. On the card it said "Scott Copeland International." She went on, "Scott will have a look at you there, and he'll tell you everything you need to do."

"Thanks." And I continued on my merry way, pumped up, perhaps, a little. A lightness to my step. Honestly, I had visions of catwalks in Milan. Of pretty girls recognizing me from black-and-white cologne ads. Of not having to work hard anymore to bring home a decent wage.

Anyway, now, years later, my modeling career hasn't exactly, um, taken off. I think I've worked 11 jobs, total. Mostly obscure print stuff. But I did do one thing for a Jacuzzi company where I sat in a hot tub and chatted and laughed all day with two unbelievably beautiful and charming women and took home $1200. I remember frolicking on camera in the bubbles, gazing and thinking, "Today is a good day to die..."

But I'm too short for runway work, too old for high fashion, and too young to be a "mature" male model, saying nothing of my marginally better-than-average looks. My agent calls me, oh, once a month, and I trundle off with comp cards and portfolio and stand in line awkwardly, mug for a moment, then hope to be picked. Not once have I been able to entertain the possibility of giving up my day job.

And truthfully, I'm not sure that I would. The world of modeling is alien to me.

I filmed an infomercial once, for an unheard-of product, some abstraction at best (and, I suppose, one deadly pharmaceutical mistake at worst). Yet there I was, contributing to this mystery product's image and public perception.

I still laugh at myself on two a.m. TV from time to time. In the whole half-hour infomercial, I appear on precisely three seconds of film. Eight hours of work, one compromised set of ethics, three seconds of exposure, $800.

About a dozen times, I've heard modeling agents and photographers refer to models as being "talented." The first few times, I felt like a foreigner who'd caught a native using his own word incorrectly. Wasn't "talent" the natural ability to undertake certain acts exceptionally? Playing piano concerti required talent. Skiing black diamonds at high speeds was talent-entailing activity. But standing in front of a camera and pouting? Was that really, in the strictest sense of the term, talent?

And then I had to admit it. Yes. It was talent. Maybe not the standing-there-and-pouting part, but the incredible beauty of certain people does fall precisely in the realm of t-a-l-e-n-t. It's God-given, not everyone possesses it equally, and when it's there it needs to be nurtured to flourish. If you have aesthetic talent, then learning to pose is like a piano player studying her scales (musical talent) or like a skier practicing the slalom (athletic talent): you do what you must to maximize your abilities. Otherwise, those abilities go to waste.

And so I was walking down the street, minding my own business, and this lady (an angel?) had chased me down and delivered a message unto me that I had talent! Charisma! Aesthetic talent!

Okay, I thought, excellent, so I was ready to model.

Um, wait, no. No, I wasn't. First I would have to join a gym: chest size up two inches, abs into washboard shape, biceps bigger, and so on. First I would need to whiten my teeth. I'd have to procure more, ahem, professional haircuts. I'd require special shoes that would lift me inches taller. I'd be taught how to walk and how to project in front of a camera. I'd have to find particular skin-care products, and certainly I'd have to go tanning more. But that's all! Almost there!

Almost there? I hit the weights. I bought the best products and used them. I visited the people I was supposed to see. I was a sellout. I compromised myself in the name of my physical appearance, and I did so half-soullessly and half-studiously. And every month or so, I'd return to visit Copeland, and he'd tell me, "Almost there."

At last, I was ready. Time to pose.

Showing emotion on camera is like this: you don't try to do it. You don't force your face, otherwise it'll explain too much. The face is an incredibly sensitive signal-thrower. You're just supposed to go inside yourself and actually feel what you want to project. Then the face follows suit. Trying to look sexy won't do a thing, you have to imagine intimacy. If you're supposed to come across as happy, then remember the best present you ever got, and access, really access, how that felt. A smile will be born.

After a few shoots, Copeland sent me to a specialist to learn to walk. We went out to this walking specialist's apartment complex's parking garage and walked along the white line, and he critiqued me. I learned how to hold my arms and head, how to linger and saunter and give off "vibes." And the whole time that I was following the nice gentleman who was coaching me, I was thinking, "I can't believe I live in a culture that actually values these things."

By the time I was deemed ready to visit an agent, I'd spent over eight months and almost $4000 on becoming a model. Oh, did I forget to mention? I was selling out my soul to the Evil Empire of the Senses, but I was the one paying for it. Literally.

Editor's note: See Copeland's objections to this story at the bottom of the page

Copeland had charged a $1500 up-front "talent development" fee. The teeth-whitening ran about $60. The gym membership, $30 a month. Haircuts were at a discount, $30 each. Shoes, $150. Portfolio, $50. Comp cards, $350. Three photo shoots, $850 total. Tanning salon, $5 each visit. Skin care, $40 a month.

Well, I just did the math, and monetarily, after all these years I've finally edged back into the black. Not to mention that I get all these neat deductions at tax time, for grooming and so on, because I'm self-employed. There was also the day in the hot tub, the experience of being filmed, the times I wore clothes that actually cost more than my car, the bloated checks for which I never once had to think or break a sweat, and I have all these great techniques now for keeping my body's appearance variables in peak form.

I read where Sean Penn, the actor, said, "When artists talk about the balance between art and commerce, they're usually on their way to hell." Hmm. Am I on the way to hell? In the same interview, Penn also said, "The more life you've lived, the more significant places you can take your character." Modeling, I know, is an experience that I can chalk up under the heading of "significant life lived."

But still, I have to admit, I'm not a model. Not really.

"To be a model, the person has to have the right look for the correct season and for what's going on," said Doug Coats, 36, a men's modeling booking agent at Nouveau Modeling and Talent in La Jolla. "The major male models today are thinner, taller, and younger. To do the high-fashion things like Gucci, Versace, Prada, and Yves St. Laurent, and so on, today you have to be less muscular, over six feet tall, and they're as young as maybe 17 or 18. The fashion world is basically looking for the newest face, the most interesting-looking person. And it really just all depends."

On what?

Coats calls them the "Fashion Mafia." (I wondered: skilled beholders whose eyes are so keen and hip that they inspire us about what beauty is? Or just a shifty publicity organization duping society?)

"There's about, I want to say, maybe 12 photographers who run the world of fashion," Coats said. "Mario Testino, Craig McDean, Bruce Weber... A lot of times if they trip on a person, that model could be hanging on with an agency in New York, and then the next thing you know, that person could be doing the Gucci campaign, and now they're on top of the world. Just because one of these big photographers tripped on their image. And after a great photographer has shot a model, and everyone knows that this particular photographer has great taste and a great style, then the next thing you know, another great photographer is going to want to shoot him in the way that he sees him through his lens. And the casting directors too, the big ones in New York and Paris and Milan. They're looking for the next face, the next look, creating the style."

And what did the Fashion Mafia seem to be looking for right now?

"In spring 2006," Coats said, "it's going to be this American bad boy, kind of James Dean type of look. But the guys are still very thin; I mean, the muscles are definitely not a big part of what they're looking for. And personality is important, too. It's almost like they have to kind of not want to be in the business and have this attitude, but then they walk into a room and they give off this feeling of, like, wow, that's a top model. And they have to be able to move in front of a camera and do different kinds of things, like hang off a ledge, maybe, or pose with a tiger and not complain about it."

Was that how to become a successful model? To just hang loose and pose?

"The people who really want to do the business tend not to do as well as those who don't want to do the business," Coats said. "That's my philosophy, as strange as it sounds."

Hmm. A paradox. Could he explain?

"I think it's like many things in life," Coats began. "Like love, maybe. It's almost like if you don't show any interest in someone, then they want you even more. I guess what I'm saying is, I get a lot of people coming into the office who will do anything they can to get into a modeling agency. And they try, and they think they have to take different pictures, and they have to do this, and they have to do that, but a lot of the time, we know if someone is going to be a model in the first two seconds that we see them."

Really? You're saying you can "name that model" in two seconds flat?

"If you know the business, and you know what to look for, then you can tell right away, yes," Coats answered. "I think it's partly instinct. You either have the eye or you don't. But I've also followed the business for a long time. I buy practically every magazine that's out there. By now, I even have a sense about forecasting a new look, because I've gotten to know casting directors and agents out of New York who are looking for the latest type of person even a season ahead of time."

Okay. So you assess a person's talent and decide the industry wants them, so then what?

"Polaroids are actually a great way to start a model's career, believe it or not," Coats said. "The big fashion houses in Europe and New York, it seems they only want to see Polaroids. They don't even want to see a portfolio on a model. They want to see exactly what a person's looking like. Recently, you know, I sent a couple of these Polaroids to different agencies and casting directors in New York, and two of the guys were direct-booked for a Louis Vuitton show in Paris, from San Diego, through me. And the next thing you know, they're doing really well in the business."

One of the models to whom Coats was referring was local success story Parker Shinn. But we'll hear from Shinn, and a few other thriving models, in a moment. I still wanted to know what set Coats and his outfit apart from other agencies.

"People who want to be models really have to be careful not to get involved with scam agencies," he said. "You really want to make sure that an agency is registered with the Screen Actors Guild [SAG]. Real modeling agencies can develop a model, we can get them jobs, we can set them up at agencies in other cities or abroad. But with scam agencies, models run the risk of having their money stolen or their ethics can be compromised, or they can just be steered in the wrong direction and never get any work. You want to have your name associated with an agency that has a good reputation."

To become franchised through SAG, which is basically a union designed to protect the interests of models and actors and others involved in the industry, there are fees that must be paid and a certain code of conduct that must be followed. SAG was established in the 1930s.

Incidentally, the San Diego yellow pages list 24 local modeling agencies. But Coats estimates that only 7 or 8 of them are on the level and SAG-registered.

So you look good, someone who knows what looks good (and whose interests are in your best interests) thinks you look good, and you get a portfolio together and you start getting jobs. Now you're a model. You're an example of a standard of physical perfection that others can use as a measure. But you're also making money and selling commodities.

Which raises a metaphysical line of questioning. I mean, what is beauty? Is there a spiritual, or at least mathematic, component to it? Is it all about perfection and symmetry and harmony? Or is beauty simply the chance alignment of the right beholder and the right beholdee? Does it come down to a democratic ideal, as in, "It's beautiful if we agree that it is"?

If beauty was ever truth, as the poet John Keats famously said, then what we know and need to know in life seems to have changed with the times. Beauty has gotten real and kept it real and become all too real through the illusory sheens of magazines and movie screens. Beauty used to be aligned with divine standards of virtue and integrity; now it sells things. Regrettably, beauty's like truth gone commercial.

Regardless (pun intended), it does seem that our society needs to be careful how much like Narcissus we become. We should have learned by now how regarding ourselves can turn out to be an all-too-compromising position: hovering and fawning over our own deadly reflection.

But what about some real models? Would they agree with my assessments and share my terrible doubt of appearances? I had to find some big winners of what Doug Coats calls "the Genetic DNA Lottery."

Parker Shinn, 18, graduated last year from Point Loma High. His plan is to take a semester off from school and then attend USC business school. He went to a model-scouting event in Arizona when he was 15 and found Nouveau Agency from there, where Coats became Shinn's mentor. Shinn sounds incredibly matter-of-fact as he mentions where he's been working in the past two years: New York, Milan, Paris...He just rattles them off as if they're the ingredients in a recipe. And they are, in a way, parts of the recipe for a dish we'll call the Modeling Success of Parker Shinn.

"At first I thought, 'Me, a model? Yeah, right.' But then there was all this interest, so it seemed like something I should pursue," he said.

Assessing his own appearance, Shinn tells me he looks "like a Ken doll." But according to Abercrombie & Fitch, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, Teen magazine, and a host of other beacons of high fashion, Shinn looks like the Next Great Face. One major website, models.com, rates Parker Shinn as the #26 male model in the world. Which means he's not really a model. Technically, Shinn's a male supermodel.

Shinn's an avid member of his school's sailing team, which is a perennial winner of national high school championships. This year, with his earnings from modeling, he bought a new Ford Explorer and a new 17-foot sailboat. "It's hard to say, because I've had a lot of money withheld this year," he said. "But I think I made about $60,000." Not bad for an 18-year-old kid.

And what did he have to do for that kind of money?

"I did Obsession for Calvin Klein, Chaps for Ralph Lauren, and I did an underwear campaign for Calvin Klein as well," he said, still sounding relatively bored. But I stopped him. Shinn had stood around in front of a bunch of cameras in his underwear? "I must say it was awkward at first," he chuckled. "But everyone on the shoot was really chill, and so, after a couple hours it was just kind of not a big deal and it was fine."

Was he proud of modeling? Embarrassed about it?

"I wouldn't say proud or embarrassed," Shinn answered. "I would say I'm lucky to do it, which is good. I've got to take advantage of it while I can. I'm fortunate, but I don't think it's something to be proud of."

And why not?

"Because," he said. "Winning high school nationals in sailing is something that I've worked for all my life. This is something that I was fortunate enough to be born with. It's not something that I've had to work for since I was eight years old to become. So it's an accomplishment, but it's like a God-given accomplishment."

So did he feel a spiritual obligation to model?

He laughed. "Well, I don't know about that. But I think I should take advantage of it while I can. I mean, most models are forced into retirement by the time they're 25."

Did Shinn have any anxieties about his face or his physique?

"I think I look fine," Shinn said. "And if someone else disagrees, then that's their opinion. They're entitled to it. But it doesn't bother me. I'm not too self-conscious about the way I look."

And how did his looks translate into success with the young ladies?

"I've had a steady girlfriend for over a year now," he replied. "And she's great. I don't think she really likes the fact that I'm around all these models, but she knows I love her, and she doesn't mind too much."

Shinn's parents advise him about all his new money, but they also let him do what he wants. As for dreams, his true aspirations are with sailing. He says that one day he'd like to sail in the Olympics and in the America's Cup. But modeling is a great way to finance those dreams, and he knows it. "I wouldn't belittle modeling," he said. "It's a really, really great opportunity."

Someone who's been maximizing that opportunity since she was a teenager is local hottie Ute Werner. Werner is off-the-hook, drop-dead, breath-caught-in-the-throat, involuntary-low-whistle, eyes-popped-out-of-your-sockets, never-look-at-yourself-in-a-mirror-again gorgeous. Blonde hair, blue eyes, white teeth, smooth skin, hourglass figure. See for yourself. Go click on ute-werner.com. Go ahead, this article will still be here when you get back.

But I spoke to Ute Werner (over the telephone) before I ever saw her. And although I knew I was talking to a highly successful model, I couldn't help but think that this woman on the phone was just too smart and grounded to be all that pretty. Turns out she's just got it all, a blessing in every corner.

Werner's 26 years old, 5'9" tall, 130 lbs., and according to her website, she measures 36D-25-35. That's math language for "perfect proportions." She models and acts for a living. Werner graduated from Bonita High and went to Cuyamaca College for three years without graduating. She didn't need to. She's been in what is essentially the family business since the age of 13. Her mom, at 63, is still a model, and her older sister used to model, and she did pretty well. Werner's biggest job was the national ad for Rembrandt toothpaste. Her teeth are probably her best attribute.

On the other side of it, she thinks her hands are her worst feature: too big and athletic. And maybe her muscular arms as well. "Most female models aren't really super-fit," Werner said. "Actually, they're just kind of skinny."

Werner owns and rides three horses, which is her main workout. She also dates a professional no-holds-barred fighter, and she's a regular practitioner of Muay Thai kickboxing. "It depends what kind of modeling you want to do," she said. "In the lifestyles and fitness modeling worlds, they want girls who are in shape. But for fashion modeling it's better if you're really thin. And the thing is, the fitness jobs don't pay as much as the rest of the modeling pays. So I more or less try to keep myself in the lifestyle category. Like, Rembrandt was a lifestyle job."

Werner has been represented by Shamon Freitas Agency for about the past year. She works mostly in Los Angeles and is trying to make the gradual shift from modeling gigs to commercials and finally into film acting. Her most important possession is probably her car, a Mitsubishi Lancer, because she commutes constantly to and from L.A. "You have your time window with modeling, where once you get past a certain age, the jobs really aren't there for you anymore. Unless you're a household name, like Christie Brinkley, I mean, she still gets to do a lot of modeling, and she's past that golden age. But modeling, in general, just has this small window. Acting has a much wider range of opportunity."

She's been a full-time model and actor for the better part of the past seven years. The amount of money she makes is very uneven and comes in sporadically. Last year, she tripled her income from the year before, and this year she's earning an amount, she said, "somewhere between the two." The Rembrandt campaign netted her $25,000 for a day's work.

"I'm a California blonde," she said. "And depending on the ad campaigns, and whatever fads are in at the time, maybe they'll be looking for brunettes, or for Latinas, or whatever, but you can't always count on there being work. You can make $20,000 one month and less than $2,000 the next month. You go through phases. So you have to be practical and be smart with your money."

I asked Werner about the notion of talent, as it relates to beauty. She said, "I don't think you can pull talent out of the way someone looks. You can have a great look, or some star quality, but I don't think you can match looks and talent until you talk to somebody. Until you get to know who they are as a person."

And beauty?

"Beauty depends on who's interpreting it," she said. "Sometimes, if somebody is very attractive, their imperfections are what complete that. If somebody's too perfect, then it's almost like they're inhuman. I mean, look at somebody like Tom Cruise. Tom Cruise has kind of a weird nose, and he's never had very nice teeth, but his overall demeanor, the way he acts, his quirky smile, like, it just all adds up to this really attractive guy. But he's not, by any means, this picture-perfect 'model guy.' His imperfections actually make this personable, likable, attractive person who's a superstar." And then Werner broke it down into a wonderful, abstract idea. "You could have somebody who, if you took their nose, and you took their forehead, and you took their teeth, and you took their ears, and you just looked at everything individually, and you were, like, 'Well, the ears are too big, and the nose is too big, and the smile's not right,' and so on, but somehow, you could piece together everything that's wrong, and you get something that looks beautiful and looks right. It's about the package, the complete package and how it fits together."

But Werner was also very keen about the internal component of external beauty. "Someone who has an air of confidence and self-respect," she said, "but who has the ability to make fun of themselves, the ability to have that sense of humor, I think that's what makes a beautiful person. A person's attitude can really make them unattractive. It's important to be physically fit and proportionate, but it's also important to be sweet and bubbly and nice."

And even then, it might not matter.

"That's one of the most difficult things about this industry," Werner said. "I mean, one time I didn't get this job because the people said they 'didn't like my face.' And that was it. They just didn't care for my face."

Werner's lucky in that she's never had to compromise her values to get a modeling job. In general, she's found that the products she's been asked to endorse are good and useful products. She even uses Rembrandt toothpaste. The strangest thing she's ever had to do in front of a camera was wear lingerie and have a pillow fight with another girl wearing lingerie.

Werner has, however, been asked repeatedly to pose for Playboy, but this is something she will not do. "There was this manager once who really wanted me to do Playboy," she said. "And he wouldn't manage me unless I posed for them, because that was his way of promoting me. But then you talk to these other people, you know, the ones who have more reputable names, and they'll tell you, well, these companies wouldn't touch a Playmate with a ten-foot pole, because you're the one representing them. Like, one time I did this hosting job for Continental Airlines, a commercial, and they were going to hire this other girl ahead of me until they found out she had posed for Playboy."

Then Werner broke it down for me. "There's all these opportunities in this industry to do nudity and all these other sleazy-type things, and it's really quick money. But then you have to think about what you might be giving up in the future if you go for the easy money now."

Speaking of modeling futures, there may be none more bright than that of local youngster Nina Anakar.

Anakar, 14, is already an accomplished equestrienne. But according to Scott Copeland, she is "something to behold." Anakar was referred to Copeland by Cici Bloum, the daughter of Jimmy Durante and also an equestrienne whose son Ryan is a successful child model and actor under Copeland's tutelage.

When I asked Copeland about the hottest commodities, modeling-wise, in San Diego, he didn't hesitate to mention Anakar. And yet, at the time this article was written, Nina Anakar had never yet worked a single modeling job in her young life. Copeland was basing his assessment entirely on potential.

"She's worship material," Copeland told me. "I mean, you've never seen anything like her. It's not her skin, not her nose, not the way she touches her hair...it's much more than any of that. From the moment this girl walks into a room, you can just tell: she's got it all. She's incredible."

Copeland showed Anakar's Polaroids to Jan Planit, who runs one of the biggest agencies in New York City, Planit M, and apparently Planit dropped everything and has begun readying the world for the appearance of Anakar. According to Anakar's mother, Jennifer, the only thing holding them back was that they were waiting for Nina to finish middle school.

"I'm really excited," the young beauty told me over the phone recently, "and I can't wait to really get into modeling. I'm so motivated to be successful in this, because it's something that I've always really wanted to do. I love fashion, and I've always had an interest in it. And modeling is really a different thing to do. I mean, no one else at my school is doing this." After finishing at Rancho Santa Fe Middle School, Anakar and her mother will make the trip to New York City, to start her career with Planit's agency. Still, this year, the perfectly mundane progression to high school awaits.

"I've had some photo shoots but no jobs," Anakar said. "Because Jan Planit doesn't want me to do any local work. She wants me to wait until I go to New York." Not only does Anakar have a pretty level head on her shoulders, but she seems to have good advisors in Copeland and her mother.

"I really don't know what to expect," she said. "So I'm just going to go there and see what happens."

Anakar has no anxieties about the way she looks -- well, okay, maybe she does have one. "I'm a little shorter than I should be for modeling," she admitted. "But I'm still young, so hopefully I still have an inch or two to grow." And then I asked her how short she was. "I'm five eight," she said. Five foot eight! I didn't reach that height until I went to college, and I'm a man. The irony in Anakar's anxiety floored me.

Anakar described herself as looking different from most other 14-year-olds. "For my eighth-grade class I won best hair and best smile," she said, rather humbly. She kept punctuating her statements with "I guess" and "sort of" and charming embarrassed laughter. She didn't sound as if she really knew how pretty she was. And humility, if I may say so, is a big part of what makes merely pretty people really beautiful.

But Anakar does have dreams. "I really want to be a famous model," she said. "I want to travel to all the best places and be in lots of magazines." But then her inherent humility kicked in. "But right now, I can't be demanding, and I can't really choose yet what I want to do."

Another young local model who can't yet choose what he wants to do but who's more than on his way is Danny Smith. Smith, who's 22, graduated last year from San Diego State with a degree in criminal justice administration. He's 6', 180 lbs., and he describes himself as having the all-American look, blond hair, blue eyes, more athletic and broad-shouldered, not the tall, slender European look that "everyone seems to go for nowadays."

Smith grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, but he came to San Diego to go to school four years ago, and he currently lives in Pacific Beach. "I'm going to stick around in San Diego until the end of the summer at least," he said. "But then I'm thinking I might move up to Los Angeles to give it a try in modeling and acting."

Smith's big job to date was the national ad campaign for Abercrombie & Fitch. If you go to Abercrombie.com, voila! There's Danny Smith, actually multiple images of Danny Smith, looking very angular and rugged and alluring. "A week before I got the gig for Abercrombie, I was walking down the street in O.B. with a six-pack of beer," Smith said, "and someone approached me, and I actually thought it was a joke. But then a day or two later I called the number and sure enough, it was Scott Copeland, and he was serious, and he wanted to take some shots of me, and I thought, 'Well, what's the worst that can happen?' So I kind of took the bait, and Scott took some shots that he liked, and I guess he sent in some pictures a couple days after we met, and then I was contacted by Abercrombie, and they flew me out a couple days later to New York."

Boom. Success. A national ad campaign for a huge fashion company. Being photographed by Bruce Weber. What was it like?

"To tell you the truth, it was the most surreal experience I've ever had in my life," Smith said. "To be this college kid that was, you know, scraping pennies together -- and I still am, for that matter -- but then to be flown out to New York and pose in front of cameras and meet these incredible people...Actually, to be honest, being so green to the business, I had never even heard of Bruce Weber going into it. But then I got there, and I met the other models who had been in the business for some time, and they were, like, 'Oh, we get to work with Bruce,' and I'm thinking, 'Bruce Weber, okay, I don't know Bruce Weber from anybody.' And then he walks into the room, and everybody kind of stops. And I'm looking around thinking a professional ballplayer walked in or something. But it was Bruce Weber, and he's like a god in the industry. And knowing what I know now I can see why, because he takes the most incredible shots, and he's such a nice person."

Smith has worked other jobs since Abercrombie, small local work in San Diego while he finished school, but nothing on a par with that first experience. It's kind of like winning a million dollars the first time you play the lottery and then having to go back to work the next day. But Smith is taking everything in stride.

"I was fortunate enough to have some great pictures taken," Smith said modestly, "and to have my face plastered all over the country. I'm like the luckiest guy in the world. But I've never really thought about a career path in modeling. I kind of feel like, as long as I'm fooling people so far, I'll go with it. I mean, I still can't believe people are willing to pay me to do this kind of stuff. But if they're willing to do it, then I can do my part, you know, keep in shape, and I'll keep going with it. And if it ends tomorrow, then great. I had fun with it, and that's fine, too."

Smith works out four or five times a week, he surfs, and he runs almost every day. He used to play rugby at San Diego State. And he still feels awkward talking about his modeling. "If people ask, you know, what I do on the side, or whatever, I usually don't mention it," he said. "I can't believe I'm doing this interview for the Reader.

"I think the definition of beauty, at least in the fashion industry, comes down to right place, right time," Smith said. "It's obviously changing every year. I mean, you look around at all these different campaigns, and you can't see what they have in common at all. So what is beauty? I couldn't answer that question; I don't have any idea at all. I still don't know what they even see in me. I just think of it as one big trick."