A tale of two models: how male modelling has changed Tony Barnes earned three guineas an hour, married Miss Littlewoods and was expected to style himself on shoots, while Oliver Cheshire is a slave to the gym, dates a pop star and is papped on nights out. Tony Barnes, 73 Oh, I just love clothes! Tony Barnes has always been fixated on fashion. And partial to a jaunty scarf. Summer or winter, I always wear one. A friend of mine said they'd spotted me early one morning on the Edgware Road and recognised me immediately by the pink chiffon scarf blowing in the wind.' Tony Barnes today. He wears: Autograph blazer, £99, and trousers, £37.50, by Marks & Spencer (marksandspencer.com). Shirt, his own. Silk-and-cotton-jacquard tie, £79, and cotton-and-silk striped tie, £85; both by Paul Smith (paulsmith.co.uk). He may not have been the household name that female counterparts such as Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton were back in the 1960s, but Tony was very much a Face. From the cover of Hardy Amies' book, ABC of Men's Fashion, to the front of the Corn Flakes box sitting on your G-Plan kitchen table, there he was: defined jaw, slick side parting, perfect skin, diamond smile. 'I'd often have four or five jobs a day,' says Tony, who, looking a decade-plus younger than his 73 years, still models for Marks & Spencer and Jaeger. 'I'd call my agent between 5pm and 6pm every day and it was very unusual if there was nothing booked for the next morning.' Although London was in full swing, Tony was an early-to-rise pro who lived and breathed modelling, plunging his freshly washed face into a bowl of iced water, Joan Crawford-style, each morning. 'No one went to the gym, but we looked after ourselves,' he says. 'And you didn't turn up at a studio in jeans and trainers. You were immaculate. There was a sign on the wall of my agency that read "Remember that you are a model from the moment you open your front door to the moment you close it." When he started modelling at 18 he was one of only two teenage male models in London. There were no stylists, make-up artists or corps of assistants running out for skinny lattes. It was DIY, with Tony expected to provide his own accessories and even clothes, depending on what the job was. Tony modelling a jump suit with detachable trousers in the 1960s 'I'd be briefed on what each shoot was for the next day, and what I'd need to bring,' he says. My bag for the day could be incredibly heavy. I might need a white and blue shirt and six ties for the first job, and a whole suit for the second, and several pairs of shoes. I'd bring false cuffs, handkerchiefs, a hairbrush and, of course, lacquer - no boy or girl would ever be photographed with a hair out of place.' Tony's career started at dance school, aged eight. His disapproving father - a jobbing electrician - begrudgingly let him attend to learn tap, which he did. But he was also learning ballet on the side, using a pair of second-hand slippers loaned by a sympathetic teacher. As he says, 'I was Billy Elliot!' He won roles in pantomimes, went on to dance professionally and, while working on a West End show, was asked to shoot a knitting pattern one afternoon. After that I got an agent, and the work never stopped. I was earning three guineas an hour. He was, by all accounts, at the top of his game. He was so close to Hardy Amies that he spent weekends at his Gloucestershire home. When he bumped into Monty Moss of Moss Bros in the bar at the Royal Opera House during an interval at the ballet, Moss turned to his wife and, by way of an introduction, said: 'There is nobody, I repeat nobody, who can wear a suit like Tony.' To leaf through the gold binders that serve as Tony's scrapbooks is to take a trip through three decades of men's style: from the Mad Men-tinged black and white contact sheets of him sitting on a backwards-turned mid-century-modern Windsor chair in the 1950s, through 1960s catwalk shows with Twiggy - clutching the Velcro'd trouser lengths she'd just pulled off his jump suit - to group shots of boys in Cologne in the 1970s, wearing Thin White Duke fedoras. Tony Barnes has been a full-time male model since the 1950s 'Oh, I loved the travel,' says Tony. 'I was shooting in Cairo with another model and we stayed on and did crazy things, as you do when you're 21. I loved Dubrovnik. And I learnt to water-ski on Lake Como. Tony met his wife, Maureen - a former Miss Littlewoods - when they were working on a show together in 1965. They moved to Eastbourne 41 years ago, raised a family, and have four grandchildren. Their home is an immaculate, semi-detached fantasia of chaises-longues, crystal chandeliers and chinoiserie. Tony has devoted a whole conservatory to his passion for international monarchy, stuffed to the rafters with ceramics, portraits and antiques. 'I have 3,000 books on royal families,' he says. 'It's been an obsession since I was six.' Kings and queens aside, clothes remain his number one love, and will certainly colour the autobiography he's writing. He has a walk-in wardrobe with a vast collection of suits, arranged by palette and pattern, all immaculate, all protected with transparent covers. 'I've planned every outfit for every formal occasion I've been invited to until the end of September,' he says. As I say, I just love clothes. When I was growing up after the war there were still coupons and rationing. Things were precious. It was a pleasure to wear beautiful suits. Which is why, when we modelled, we always looked happy. Not like now. No one looked miserable back then. Oliver Cheshire, 24 There might be downtime spent on the Xbox or a few hours here and there down the pub, but there's no such thing as a weekend or a holiday when you're a hugely successful male model. 'I might get called to go to India tomorrow,' says Oliver Cheshire, the 24-year-old who was scouted by Select at age 15, whisked straight off to New York, and became an overnight success as the new face of Calvin Klein. Oliver Cheshire today. He wears: Savile Row Inspired suit, £299, Autograph shirt, £32.50, and belt, £19.50; all by Marks & Spencer (marksandspencer.com). Silk tie, £69, by Paul Smith (paulsmith.co.uk). 'I've been doing this full time for eight years, and I've had to cancel so many family dinners and significant events. But...' he says with a beam, 'I do love it, though.' The friends with whom Oliver grew up in Hitchin work nine to five, Monday to Friday. His fashion circle in London doesn't keep such a fixed schedule. 'My weekend is whenever I'm not working and I can get together with other mates who aren't shooting either. Some other models are heading to the agency this afternoon to pick up some money and then we're going to the Groucho for some drinks. Today is our weekend. It's a Tuesday at the Little House private members' club in Mayfair. Oliver has just got back from a shoot in Majorca. Before that he was in Liverpool. He travels to New York frequently, because, he says, 'I can always get work there, and I can meet up with Pixie if she's working there, too.' That's Pixie as in Lott, pop star and girlfriend. When Oliver isn't appearing in advertising spreads or on magazine covers, he's being photographed at parties with her and becoming the subject of spurious tabloid stories. 'I'll read something about me dancing on a table with a bottle of champagne and it's all made up.' Can a couple whose stock-in-trade is soliciting the public eye have any level of normality in a relationship? 'Of course,' says Oliver. 'If we're going to the May Fair Hotel for a party, we know we're going to get papped. If we want to duck and dive and not be noticed, there are loads of pubs we can go to. Oliver gave up drama studies to model full-time, even though it wasn't something he'd considered pre-Calvin Klein. His mother had - as is the way with doting mums - always thought he had what it takes. 'She'd squeeze my cheeks and tell me I was gorgeous,' he says. After he was scouted - at a Clothes Show Live event - his father, a fireman, gave him his own endorsement: 'He told me to go and do it, because I'd travel the world and meet amazing people. Which I have. Oliver in a French magazine Now he's an established, in-demand old hand rather than a new face, he's taken up studying drama again, part-time. 'I do two to three hours a week with an amazing teacher,' he says. The whole model-turned-actor thing can be so naff, but I always saw modelling as a stepping-stone. I could still do this for a long time, though. Men make most of their money between 26 and 31, so I'm not at my peak yet, but I'd like to get into film. I'd like to do something like The Talented Mr Ripley, or a war film. I want to get out of my comfort zone and play a tramp. It's hard for models to act because the confidence you get from modelling is the wrong kind - you get too preoccupied with how you look.' Right now, however, image is everything: 'My mum used to cut my hair - now I go to Larry at Daniel Hersheson, who's the best barber in town.' Oliver does what he calls a 'jailhouse workout' four times a week: largely cardio, with plenty of chin-ups and sit-ups, to stay lean rather than build off-trend muscle. 'I don't avoid carbs, though; I've been lucky with my genes.' He steams, exfoliates and moisturises. After every hot shower he takes a cold one 'to close my pores'. The sometimes outré end of fashion has presented the odd challenge for the boy from Hitchin: 'I did a John Galliano show when I was 18, in pink pants, a red wig, drawn-on eyebrows and high heels. Then, right before we went on the catwalk, they threw a bucket of water over us. My mates got hold of a picture of me in the show and they had it on the wall of the gents down the pub. They annihilated me. Cheshire modelling for Marks & Spencer Oliver is modelling at a time of huge change in the model industry. There are still the epic photo-shoots, such as a Jack Wills advertising campaign he did in Rajasthan in 2008, which he recalls as one of the most exciting experiences of his life, 'playing elephant polo, and getting up at sunrise to shoot surrounded by hundreds of wild dogs'. Eighty per cent of his work, however, is now focused on e-commerce. 'It's always a full day with an hour for lunch, putting on 40 T-shirts, then 40 pairs of trousers.' Such days aren't as glamorous as the studio sessions with Steven Klein, or the editorial shoots off the Amalfi coast with free-divers, but that's where the money is. And he's saving, with an eye to the future: 'I want to buy a couple of houses, and own a business. I have my own blog now - iwearthetrousers.blogspot.co.uk - and might want to get into design myself. Oliver leads what his friends in Hitchin must think is a charmed life. And he knows it: his can't-believe-my-luck enthusiasm is profoundly endearing. Is he keeping a diary of all his amazing experiences? 'Well, I kept my clippings for the first two years, but then I couldn't be arsed. With Facebook and social media, it's all there already. I can just Google myself.