Lauren Wasser On Fashion, Freedom And The Myth Of Perfection
Raised by a supermodel, LAUREN WASSER grew up surrounded by the glitz and glamour of the fashion industry – but when a serious health complication led to the amputation of both of her legs, she had to completely redefine the way she thought about perfection. In an essay for PORTER, she explores a broader idea of beauty and how the industry is learning to embrace it
When I was a child, I thought that beauty had to be rare and almost unattainable. Something you were either born into or locked out of. Growing up inside the fashion industry, I saw it at its most elevated, its most polished, its most aspirational. I didn’t question it then; I wouldn’t have known how. Now, though, I have a different understanding. After years of modeling, fighting for my life, and then returning to the industry that defined my youth, I’ve refined my sense of what beauty is supposed to be.
My name is Lauren Wasser, often known as fashion’s ‘girl with the golden legs’. I grew up woven into the industry from the very beginning. My mother was a supermodel who won the Elite Model Look of the Year as a teenager, alongside Stephanie Seymour, and was quickly swept into New York at the height of the ’90s supermodel era. She had me at just 21, navigating a demanding career while raising me as a young single mother. In many ways, we grew up together.
My earliest memories are shaped by sets, studios, suitcases and the icons of that decade. I traveled the world with my mom, spent my first months on shoots and appeared alongside her in campaigns. I was four months old when I joined my mom in a Patrick Demarchelier shoot for Italian Vogue. Fashion wasn’t something I admired from afar; it was the environment that reared me.
Ironically, despite being surrounded by that level of glamour, all I wanted growing up was to be a tomboy. I wanted to play basketball, run around and exist freely outside of expectations. One of my formative memories is of my mother turning our living room into a studio. She would sit my brother and me down for hours, directing us, teaching us how to understand light, angles, posture and attitude. At the time, it felt endless. Now, I realize she gave me an education that can’t be taught – one rooted in instinct, confidence and trust in front of the lens. It’s why I still finish shoots so quickly today. I’m endlessly grateful for that experience.
“I became part of a visible shift away from rigid ideals and toward individuality. Not because I asked for permission, but because I belonged there… I never accepted that I didn’t deserve space. Why limit what beauty can look like?
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In October 2012, everything changed. At 24, I developed menstrual toxic shock syndrome from using a tampon exactly as directed. I did nothing wrong, yet I nearly lost my life. Ultimately, I did lose both of my legs. What followed were months in hospital, nearly a year in a wheelchair, extreme physical pain, deep depression and moments when I genuinely didn’t know how life could continue. Overnight, everything I thought defined me disappeared.
As I learned more about MTSS, I realized this wasn’t just my story. Women have been injured and killed by it for decades, quietly and without accountability. That knowledge gave me purpose. In 2015, I shared my story publicly and it resonated in ways I could never have predicted. Unexpectedly, fashion also came back into my life.
Fashion does not exist on its own. It is always shaped by the culture and political climate surrounding it – by moments of uncertainty, division and change. There are times when the world feels heavy, restrictive or driven by fear. But it is global creatives and talent who consistently push back against that energy. Through imagination, storytelling and courage, they create the campaigns, covers and collections that remind us who we are and who we can be. That resistance (rooted in beauty, expression and humanity) is how fashion becomes hope. It’s how young people see themselves reflected, valued and empowered. It’s how the industry continues to move forward, even when the world feels like it’s moving backward.
Yes, there has been a speed bump in our momentum in global castings lately, but we’ve fought through it before and overcome the setbacks.
I became part of a visible shift away from rigid ideals and toward individuality. Not because I asked for permission, but because I belonged there. There were many ‘no’s, and there still are, but I never accepted that I didn’t deserve space. Why limit what beauty can look like?
One of the most meaningful affirmations came quietly, when Virgil Abloh messaged me on Instagram, admiring my strength and my “cool”. We never got the chance to work together, but his words reminded me that fashion has always been about freedom and about moving faster than convention.
My team and I continued pushing for high fashion, believing it was only a matter of time. That belief paid off. I’ll never forget Nicolas Ghesquière asking me to walk in Louis Vuitton’s Cruise 2023 show. It took place in San Diego, where I was born, at sunset at the Salk Institute. I closed the show. That felt like confirmation that the door had truly opened.
Since then, I’ve had the privilege of experiencing the industry from so many angles. From walking in shows and sitting in the front row, through to starring in campaigns and watching designers tell stories that feel cinematic. Whether at Demna’s Balenciaga snowstorm near Paris or being part of Sarah Burton’s final McQueen show, fashion has consistently reminded me that it is art in motion.
As I prepare to attend and co-host the Met Gala this May, it feels less like an arrival and more like a continuation. Fashion has evolved as I have evolved. And in learning to love what makes us different, I’ve discovered something I never understood as a child: beauty isn’t about unattainable perfection. It’s expansive. And when we allow it, it has the power to make art out of anything, including gold prosthetics.