And yes these ladies could give any man a trouser-tent within seconds.
They really are alien-like, super humans who put the rest of us girls to head-hanging shame.
One thing that baffles me, constantly, is how freaking nice they are.
Seriously, if you're going to be offensively flawless, gorgeous and slim please just be a crabby cow.
At least then we can say, "Yeah she might have legs I'd die for and hair I could never afford but she's a miserable old witch."
Or can't they just wear nasty perfume, or sport BO breath.
It's a fact that all supermodels are perfect... in their look, smell and conversation.
Bastards.
I met Naomi Campbell for the first time at her Fashion For Relief charity event at Westfield shopping centre in London last month... (see they even do nice stuff for charidee mate).
She was really friendly, stopped for a quick interview and photo, and even ducked down to make me look less of a short ass.
Her flawless skin and shiny hair made me silently wish I could throw spaghetti bolognese down her dress.
Luckily, for her and me, they were only serving raw fish canapes, not that anyone dared eat them.
Good God, it's a fashon event darhling, people only look at food (longingly).
Earlier on in the year me and my column sidekick Sonja met Helena Christensen at the Glamour Awards.
She was like a goddess. And to make matters worse she told us she brought her dress just 20 minutes before the cermomy saying "I never worry about stuff like that".
I suppose when you're a supermodel you could wear a dog blanket and look almighty.
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It was a weird night... but Elle was lovely and wore the world's tightest leather trousers.
Spectacularly, without looking like a try-hard.
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