Model: Riley Woodell
Photographer/Designer: CD1974
Riley is a model, writer, and artist based in New York. She started her fashion career as a teenager and has walked in hundreds of runway shows. She’s also appeared in editorials for Vogue, Elle, and other magazines. What stands out most is how she brings stories into everything she does.
Following her journey made me think about modeling, visibility, identity, and what it’s like to grow up in an industry that tries to define you before you can define yourself. I had questions, and Riley was kind enough to talk with me. We discussed modeling, identity, and what it really means to be yourself.
Here’s our conversation.
I've thought a lot about how often models are told to "stand out," but they also have to fit very specific beauty standards. How do you feel about this contradiction between being yourself and meeting those expectations?
It’s one of the central tensions of this industry, and I’ve lived it very directly. Models are constantly told to be unique, memorable, different, but only within a very narrow margin of what’s currently acceptable. You’re encouraged to stand out, but not too far outside the lines.
For a long time, I thought being myself meant I needed to edit parts of who I was to fit those expectations. Certain features were framed as challenges, things to fix or soften.
What I’ve learned over time is that the industry doesn’t actually need more sameness. It just cycles through trends of what kind of difference it’s willing to celebrate at any given moment.
The shift for me came when I stopped trying to pre-empt those expectations and focused on showing up fully as I am. That doesn’t mean the standards disappear. They’re very real. But there’s power in refusing to erase yourself to meet them.
The irony is that the work I’m most proud of, and the opportunities that have felt most aligned, came when I leaned into what once made me feel like an outlier.
So yes, the contradiction exists. But I think longevity, sanity, and real impact come from understanding that trends move, standards evolve, and what truly stands out is authenticity you don’t apologize for.
Don’t jump to change your teeth, change your hair, or be involved in a space that feels inauthentic. We all feel the push of being told to change or fit the mold, but giving in to the pressure and just feeling the pressure is vastly different.
I am curious to hear about an experience in which you felt that people saw you differently than you see yourself. How did you handle the situation and did it change your perspective on future projects?
I think it was when I started booking runway. I always told myself I was too this or too that to do runway, and for a long time I internalized those limits before anyone else even had the chance to place them on me.
When I stopped listening to my agency at the time and started seeking out runway specific opportunities I realized that I could book that type of work. It was more about finding designers that aligned with me versus trying to push and pull for the attention of designers who book based on their relationship to the agency more so than knowing the model.
Do you usually recognise yourself in the final images, or do they feel more like someone else’s idea of you?
It really depends on the job or project. Most of the time I recognize to essence of myself instantly, and those are usually the images or moments that feel the most honest and lasting. There are definitely times where the final result feels a bit like someone else’s interpretation of me, but that’s generally because of the role I’m playing for that particular job. Music video, editorial, runway, and commercial Riley ultimately all look different but I see myself in each version of her.
Modeling is inherently collaborative, and part of the job is allowing yourself to be a vessel for other people’s ideas. What matters to me now is whether the interpretation still feels respectful and grounded in something true, even if it isn’t how I see myself day to day.
Over time, I’ve become more selective and more vocal about the kinds of stories I want to tell or jobs I want to take on. When there’s trust on set, the images and work output tend to land closer to who I actually am, even through someone else’s lens. Those are the moments when the work feels less like playing a role and more like a conversation.
Versatility is often considered a strength in modeling. What does versatility mean to you in practice and when does it start to feel like erasing who you are?
Versatility, to me, is the ability to move through different worlds without losing your center. It’s about understanding your instrument, your body, your face, your energy, and knowing how to adapt it to different creative visions while still remaining grounded in who you are.
Have you ever felt that a concept looked good visually but didn’t really resonate with you as a person? How do you handle situations like that?
Absolutely! I’ve had jobs before that have great visuals and are extremely professional, but what I’m wearing or how I feel in the clothes just isn’t a reflection of who I am in the end. In those moments, I remind myself that not every project is meant to be a personal mirror. Sometimes the goal is to serve the concept, the brand, or the story being told, even if it doesn’t fully align with my own identity.
That said, I’ve learned to check in with myself about why something doesn’t resonate. If it’s simply outside my personal taste, I can usually separate that and still show up fully and do the job well. If it feels misaligned on a deeper level, I take note of that and let it inform the kinds of projects I say yes to in the future.
Handling it is really about balance. I stay professional, do my best work, and honor the collaboration, but I also listen to those instincts. Over time, those experiences have helped me get clearer about my boundaries and more intentional about the images and narratives I want to be part of going forward.
There is a lot of pressure to be "easy to work with." What does that actually mean and when does it get complicated?
To me, being easy to work with comes down to being professional and agreeing to reasonable asks within the scope of the job you’ve booked. But that’s a two-way street. You can be delightful, adaptable, and fully committed, but if the team doesn’t give you time to eat, respect your personal space, or speak to you with basic consideration, that’s no longer about being “easy,” it’s about being expected to tolerate discomfort or disrespect.
The idea gets complicated when being easy to work with is used as a way to silence boundaries. There’s an unspoken pressure, especially for models, to say yes to everything, stay quiet, and not disrupt the flow, even when something isn’t okay. I don’t think professionalism means being passive. It means communicating clearly, showing up prepared, and treating everyone on set with respect, while expecting the exact same in return.
The healthiest working environments are the ones where ease comes from mutual respect, not imbalance. When everyone understands their roles and values each other’s time and humanity, the work flows naturally. That’s when being easy to work with actually means something positive.
After being photographed so many times, do you feel more or less connected to your own image?
Probably the most connected I’ve ever been. I know what I’m most affected by, what angles, lighting, and energy feel true to me, and what starts to feel like noise. After being photographed so many times I’ve developed a kind of visual self-awareness of that makes sense.
From your experience, what truly helps a model stand out in a lasting way? Is it looks, attitude, consistency, or something less obvious?
Being muse-worthy. Finding something about yourself that isn’t present in others. It doesn’t have to be cosmetic or a skill, it can just be your essence. There’s a certain charisma in some people that’s magnetic. When it’s absent you’re acutely aware of it and you miss it. Find what it is about you that’s irreplaceable and tap into it. That’s what gives longevity and life to a career.