A new calling

WALKING DOWN A street in Sydney’s Darlinghurst on a recent weekday morning with Jake Gordon, I’m dimly aware of glances from passers-by. To be clear, they’re not looking at me : my companion, on the other hand, at more than six feet tall, has unquestionable presence. On this unseasonably cool day, he’s dressed in a symphony of layered neutrals: ecru polo-neck, caramel pants, a long camel coat. He looks expensive and smells good, too, his fragrance a delicate, lingering olfactory impression. All of this would be enough perhaps, but then there’s his hair, a tumbling confection of tawny curls that dances in soft counterpoint to his strong jaw and brow. Even in a postcode known for its good-looking inhabitants, Gordon turns heads.

At 31, he’s used to being looked at; at one time, he made a living out of it – and still does from time to time, if the project’s interesting and the pay worth his while. Nine years ago, though, he was the fashion set’s newest darling – ‘Australia’s first Indigenous male supermodel!’, screamed headlines. Poised to take New York Fashion Week by storm, his lissom frame conjured breathless comparisons with the louche glamour of Jim Morrison and Michael Hutchence. He