Starbucks is our happy place. Iced lattes cool us down from the oppressive Shanghai heat, and the cheerful, air-conditioned interior serves as welcome relief from an afternoon of monotonous castings. But one of our crew wasn’t happy: She was a model from Russia, 15 years old, sitting alone and looking down at the floor. Her English wasn’t great, and she mainly talked to the other Russian girls, but through a friend, she told her story. She had just returned from a photoshoot where the photographer was touching her inappropriately. She started to cry on the set, and when the photographer complained to our agents, the agency hastily discounted the model’s fee.

I would like to tell you that this day was unusual. But events like these are common — I’m tempted to say normal — for young models working overseas. When I was 17, a modeling scout approached me at a mall. Modeling helped me pay for courses at McGill University and allowed me to travel the world. I climbed Mount Fuji, ate gelato by the Coliseum in Rome, and sailed high above the rooftops aboard the London Eye.