Rachel Pizzolato started Day 5 of Miami Swim Week in a pair of $9.99 Walgreens flip-flops because her Crocs had been stolen the night before. That is the kind of detail that does not make the highlight reel, but it is exactly what a week like this actually feels like: glamour running on pistachio croissants, lavender lattes, and whatever footwear is still in your possession by morning. For models trying to break into the swimwear market, Swim Week is less a party and more a gauntlet of back-to-back fittings, agency check-ins, and runway shows that bleed past midnight.
From the agency to the shop around the corner
The morning kicked off at Umbria Cafe, where Pizzolato and her traveling companion Madison grabbed pistachio croissants and lavender lattes before heading to the agency to collect her first-ever comp cards, the industry calling card that carries a model’s measurements and portfolio shots on the back. She tried on a green dress and a blue dress for a client called Faviana, an event and prom wear brand, and came away cautiously optimistic after the fitting coordinator made her enthusiasm clear.
From there, the pair took an Uber across town to a designer’s shop, arriving at a space where swimwear pieces were displayed on small fashion runways built inside the store itself. Pizzolato was immediately won over. ‘I feel like every store should do this,’ she said, taking in the setup. She fit for the designer and walked out of the shop officially cast. ‘Welcome to the family,’ the designer told her. The two also negotiated two suits on loan for a shoot the following day, planning to tag and collaborate in exchange.
Madison, who had been shadowing Pizzolato through nearly every fitting that week, had been cast into most of the same runway lineups, a dynamic the two had quietly engineered by standing side by side during every open call so that casting directors would take them as a pair.
Hair, makeup, and then eight shows in a row
Back at their hotel, hair and makeup ran long. Pizzolato was not entirely sold on the hair at first, then warmed to it by the time the body glitter went on. An unexpected reunion with a friend named McKenzie turned the backstage waiting into something closer to a party. Then the shows started, and the mood shifted fast.
The runway schedule ran to roughly eight shows back to back. Pizzolato flagged early that she probably would not be able to document any of it in the moment, and she was right. What she did capture at the end of the night told the story adequately: she had two looks taken off her mid-show without warning, her planned front walkover on a wet runway went sideways in a way she described as ‘honestly hilarious’ and certain to be a viral moment, and the overall operation backstage was chaotic enough that models were simply grabbed and slotted into lineups as organizers scrambled.
Madison had a harder night. Three looks were taken from her, and she described the whole experience, in what Pizzolato cheerfully called ‘the PR-trained version,’ as very unorganized.
The sushi order at midnight that closed the day
By midnight, the two were back in the room with an order from a sushi spot, vegetable fried rice, and two miso soups, weighing whether to go to a late party before remembering they had a shoot call at 9 a.m. and another at 11 a.m. the next morning.
They said no to the party.
Rachel Pizzolato, still wearing her $9.99 Walgreens flip-flops at midnight, put her new comp cards on the table and started going through show photos. The flip-flops had made it through the whole day intact, which, given the pace of the last 24 hours, counted as a win.
