I came from a background where I was very poor growing up but I have never known poverty. My parents worked hard and they went to bed hungry, but they fed us. Then my father became an ambassador, so I ended up being driven by chauffeurs. And then we became refugees. After that, I looked at it through this "glass" of to have and have not, and at the end of the day, who actually helps, who actually steps up, who is there for you.

As a young girl, I was much more preoccupied by my flaws. Everyone teased me because of my long, skinny neck. To hide my so-called deformity, I was wearing a turtleneck when I was 3! Yet my neck is probably my best asset. At the end of the day, what counts is the entire package.

I believe in glamour. I am in favor of a little vanity. I don't rely on just my genes. Looking good is a commitment to yourself and to others.

The one thing I know for a fact - some days are bad, some days are okay, and I'll go with it. If it's bad, I stay in and ride the wave and somehow, God gets me through and I'm fine. Dealing with grief doesn't work from one person to the other, it's so personal.

My saving grace was that I always knew when to leave the party.

Men can get jobs from one country to another, they can get in. But the people who always fell through the cracks were women and children, especially when you are displaced. I've always said, 'I am the face of a refugee.'

Your image as a model is your currency. That's the only thing you've got. No one cares what you look like in real life. Nobody is going to say the make up guy was terrible. They will say, you look awful and let's not book her again.