Carmen Dell’Orefice at 93: How She Overcame Painful Divorces to Reign as the Oldest Supermodel

In a world where early retirement often seems like the ultimate goal, there are those rare individuals who defy this norm by continuing to work passionately well into their later years. One such remarkable individual is Carmen Dell’Orefice, 93, celebrated as the world’s oldest working model. Let’s dive into her extraordinary journey and the lessons we can learn from her enduring career.

From humbling beginning to Vogue fame.

Carmen Dell’Orefice’s story began when she was discovered at the tender age of 13, in 1944. It’s hard to believe that such a fashion icon could come from such humble beginnings. Growing up, her family faced significant financial struggles. Modeling was just a glimmer of hope in a rather challenging upbringing.

Her first attempt at fashion was far from glamorous. In fact, it was an epic flop. But, as they say, the road to success is often paved with failures.

Just two years after her initial setback, Carmen graced the cover of Vogue at the age of 15. This was a monumental moment, marking the beginning of a legendary career in the fashion industry.

In 2023, Carmen was featured on the cover of Vogue Czechoslovakia, making her the oldest working model in the world. Her timeless beauty and elegance continue to captivate audiences globally.

She faced life’s hurdles, from financial struggles to failed marriages.

Carmen’s early life was fraught with financial difficulties. Her modeling work barely supported her family, so she and her mother also worked as seamstresses to make ends meet. This challenging period taught her resilience and perseverance.

1Her marriage to Bill Miles in the early 1950s added another layer of hardship. Miles exploited her career, collecting her modeling agency checks and giving her a mere $50 from her earnings. Yet, Carmen remained steadfast and continued to rise above these challenges.

Carmen then chose to marry photographer Richard Heimann. However, their marriage was also short-lived. When Carmen stepped away from the modeling industry in 1958, Richard left her.

Facing financial difficulties, Carmen Dell’Orefice made a bold comeback to modeling in 1978. Within just a few years, she was back on the covers of top fashion magazines, showcasing her timeless elegance. Ever since, she has been tirelessly working, featuring in numerous magazines, spearheading advertising campaigns, and strutting down catwalks for prestigious fashion brands.

She shared her secret to timeless beauty and longevity.

One of Carmen’s profound insights into maintaining beauty and longevity is the importance of self-care and self-love. She once said, “Men and women should care for themselves and love themselves. One of the secrets to maintaining beauty is doing what you do for a baby, nurturing and feeding the baby with love. That’s what we should do with ourselves: nurture ourselves, love ourselves, and give that kind of energy to ourselves.”

Carmen embraces aging with grace and dignity. She has never shied away from her age. Instead, she has used it to her advantage, proving that beauty truly knows no age.

Carmen’s unwavering passion for modeling teaches us that retirement is not an obligation but a choice. If you love what you do, there’s no reason to stop, no matter how old you are. Her life is a testament to resilience. Despite numerous challenges, she has continued to thrive, proving that with determination, one can overcome any obstacle.

Another inspiring supermodel is Daphne Selfe, 96, who still makes waves in the fashion industry and hasn’t given any sign of stopping yet. Read her story here.

My Husband Tried to ‘Fix’ Me with a New Schedule—My Epic Response Left Him Speechless

I was shocked when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of losing my temper, I decided to play along. Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his new idea of marriage.

I’ve always been the calm and reasonable one in our relationship. Jake, on the other hand, can easily get caught up in new trends or ideas, whether it’s a hobby or a YouTube video that claims to change his life in just a few easy steps.

Jake and I were fine until he met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loud made him right. He’d talk over anyone who tried to correct him. He was also always single (no surprise there), but that didn’t stop him from giving relationship advice to all his married friends, including Jake. Jake, who should’ve known better, was impressed by Steve’s confidence.

I didn’t worry about it much at first, but then Jake started saying things like, “Steve says marriages work best when the wife handles the household,” or “Steve thinks women should always look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.” I’d roll my eyes and make sarcastic comments, but it was bothering me. Jake was changing. He’d raise an eyebrow if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and he’d sigh if I let the laundry pile up—forgetting that I also had a full-time job.

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Then one night, it happened. Jake came home with The List.

He sat me down, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across the table. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, sounding condescending in a way I’d never heard before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa, but there’s room for improvement.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”

He nodded, not realizing he was walking into dangerous territory. “Yeah, Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”

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I looked at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule, titled “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife.” Jake had actually written out a plan for me based on what Steve—a single guy with no relationship experience—thought I should do to “improve” as a wife.

I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast, then go to the gym to “stay in shape.” After that? Cleaning, laundry, ironing—all before heading to work. Every evening, I was to cook dinner from scratch and make snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over. It was sexist and insulting on so many levels, I didn’t know where to start. I just stared at Jake, wondering if he had lost his mind.

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“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, unaware.

“Steve says it’s important to have structure, and I think you could benefit from—”

“Benefit from what?” I interrupted, keeping my voice calm. Jake blinked, surprised, but quickly recovered.

“Well, from having some guidance and a schedule.”

I wanted to throw the paper in his face, but instead, I surprised myself—I smiled.

“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’m lucky you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”

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He looked relieved, and I almost felt sorry for him as I stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.

The next day, I looked at the ridiculous schedule and smiled. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” he was about to learn a lesson. I opened my laptop and started a new document titled, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” If he wanted perfection from me, there was a cost.

I started by listing all the things he’d suggested for me, beginning with the gym. “$1,200 for a personal trainer,” I typed, barely holding back a laugh.

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Next was the food. If Jake wanted gourmet meals, that wasn’t happening with our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That wasn’t cheap. “$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. And if he wanted fancy meals, he’d need cooking lessons too—those were expensive.

I leaned back, laughing as I imagined his face when he saw this. But I wasn’t done. The best part was yet to come.

There was no way I could manage all these demands and keep my job. If Jake wanted me to follow his absurd schedule full-time, he’d have to cover my lost income. I calculated my salary and added it to the list. “$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time maid, chef, and personal assistant.”

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By now, I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

And just for fun, I added a note about expanding the house. If Jake was going to have friends over all the time, they’d need a separate space. “$50,000 to build a man cave so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s new routine.”

I printed out the list, set it on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he arrived, he was in a good mood.

“Hey, babe,” he called, spotting the paper. “What’s this?”

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Keeping a straight face, I said, “Oh, just a little list to help you become the best husband ever.”

He chuckled, thinking I was playing along, but as he read the list, his smile faded. “$1,200 for a trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”

I crossed my arms. “Well, you want me to follow your plan, right? I figured we should budget for it.”

His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?”

“How else can I follow your plan?” I asked. “I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”

Jake looked stunned. The numbers and the absurdity of his demands hit him all at once. His smugness disappeared, replaced by the realization that he had messed up.

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“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he stammered. “I just thought—”

“You thought you could ‘fix’ me like a project?” I said, my voice calm but firm. “Jake, marriage is about respect. And if you ever try to ‘fix’ me like this again, it’ll cost you a lot more than what’s on that paper.”

There was a long silence. Jake sighed and looked at me, defeated.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound reasonable, but now I see… it’s toxic. I’ve been such a fool.”

I nodded. “Yes, you have. And honestly, Steve has no idea what he’s talking about. Why would you listen to him?”

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Jake’s face softened as the truth hit him. “You’re right. He has no clue.”

We tore up both lists, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team. It was a reminder that marriage isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being better together.

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