In her teens and early 20s, Samantha Benjamin squeezed into shared rooms in cramped and messy model apartments. When she waited at castings or killed time traveling from job to job, she and her fellow models traded weight-loss tricks: illicit Adderall, starvation diets, even parasite ingestion—and later, unprescribed Ozempic. “Models were always whispering about extreme weight-loss stuff,” she says. Benjamin was fairly successful, booking commercial jobs and the occasional editorial work. But at 27, she largely stepped away from the industry.
Benjamin, who now works as a social media manager and lives with her boyfriend and puppies in Los Angeles, is clear about one of the primary reasons: “Girls are getting called fat. Nobody is mincing words.” In an industry where the typical sample is a size zero, weight has always been central to a model’s success. But now, GLP-1 weight-loss medications offer a tempting short-cut to thinness. Models, modeling agents, casting directors, and designers are all noting a startling return to skinniness on the runway. “Models have definitely gotten smaller,” says Zoe Latta of the New York fashion brand Eckhaus Latta. “I think it’s a combination of GLP-1s and a pendulum swing to extreme thinness being an idealized look again.” The Fall-Winter 2026 Vogue Business size inclusivity report identified declines in both mid- and plus-size representation on the runway, to the lowest levels since the publication started tracking this data three years ago.
“When GLP-1s were introduced, a lot of models wondered, ‘If I want to do these higher shows, if I want to work for these brands, then do I get skinnier?’” says Grace Breuning, a New York curve model. “And then a lot of models got skinnier.”
Ozempic’s pervasiveness cannot be overstated. Since its FDA approval for weight loss in 2021, one in eight Americans has taken a GLP-1. In January, Wegovy (a GLP-1) became available in pill form for as little as $150 per month; this month, the FDA approved a second pill, manufactured by Eli Lily under the brand name Foundayo. A needle aversion is less and less of an obstacle for anyone tempted by semaglutide drugs. But along with its legitimate use for obesity and diabetes comes the potential for abuse. “It’s almost like the new-millennia cocaine,” says one major model agent.
The modeling industry has long played a role in perpetuating unrealistic body standards, though there have been cyclical advances and setbacks. A wave of model deaths linked to starvation in 2006 and 2007 led to BMI reforms and requirements. In 2017, Kering and LVMH joined forces on a “model charter” that outlined rules around size, like banning stringent requirements in casting calls. And the body-positivity movement of the 2010s and early 2020s—when models like Ashley Graham, Paloma Elsesser, and Tess Holliday created a dialogue around size inclusivity—seemed to build on promising momentum.
But now, with a few prominent exceptions, it seems like skinny is back, and GLP-1s are contributing to the trend. Though semaglutide drugs can still be a taboo topic, a handful of models are beginning to speak more openly about them. “When I lost weight, I started to confirm a lot more work,” says model and reality TV star Brooks Nader, who has appeared on the cover of Sports Illustrated and says she “micro-doses” the drug. “I was like, okay, I guess [the industry] likes me thinner.” (Nader still takes GLP-1s, despite concerns expressed by her family and doctor that she is improperly using them.)
“It’s become very, very trendy to be very, very skinny again,” says the 27-year-old model Lottie Moss. In 2024, Moss (Kate Moss’s younger half sister), who began her career as a teenager in 2016, was unusually candid about how Ozempic abuse landed her in the emergency room. A year and a half later, she still senses some of the same pressures. “You’re thinking, if celebrities are using it, it must be safe,” says Moss, who says she has friends who are buying Ozempic online. “You see high-profile people using it, and you think, ‘it must be beneficial.’”
