Janice Dickinson: The First Supermodel

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2007-12-13T22:27:00.001-08:00

Janice Dickinson Twelve Days of Christmas

2007-11-13T20:38:00.000-08:00

"Janice Dickinson" offshoot takes over Web

2007-11-13T13:32:00.001-08:00

NEW YORK (Hollywood Reporter) - Oxygen is launching a Web-exclusive offshoot to its series "The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency," the women's cable network said Monday.

The six-episode series, dubbed "Abbey & Janice: Beauty & The Best," will debut on the company's broadband channel SheDidWhat.tv (http://SheDidWhat.tv) on December 4, the same night the third season of the Dickinson reality series debuts on the cable channel.

The Web series, the second online-only series produced by Oxygen, will follow Dickinson as she mentors Abbey Clancy, the runner up in the U.K.'s "Next Top Model" competition.

Oxygen was recently acquired by NBC Universal for $925 million.

Reuters/Hollywood Reporter

Meet Janice

2007-11-13T13:29:00.000-08:00

Age: “None of your business” (but said to be 52)

Occupation: Mother, Super Model, Writer, TV Personality, TV Producer

Celebrity supporters: Duke Snyder (hairdresser)

Phobias: none

Special skills: skiing, swimming and climbing trees.

JANICE DICKINSON is the gobby yummy mummy who is sure to give us an eyeful in a bikini.

She describes herself as the world’s first supermodel, who’s career now spans TV, writing and running a model agency.

Janice was the acid-tongued judge on America's Next Top Model before reportedly being sacked by Tyra Banks.

Despite being firmly against cruelty to animals, she said: “I’ve been around the world, I’ve eaten monkey brain, I’ve eaten ants, and I’ve eaten creepy crawly things.

“I didn’t eat for ten years, so if I don’t have to eat for a month in the jungle, well I’ll probably find some rice or beans or a can of sardines.”

The stunner, who includes Sylvester Stallone and Jack Nicholson amongst her exes, isn't the least bit worried about being filmed 24 hours a day, because she says: “I was born in front of a camera.”

She thinks viewers will relate to her because she is “real, except for my t*ts”.

Janice describes herself as chronically punctual, having a devilish sense of humour, sensitive and patient to a fault.

By NADIA MENDOZA

Published: 10 Nov 2007

Sun magazine

Janice’s New Hire Has Gay Porn Past

2007-11-13T13:24:00.001-08:00

Will Model Mama Feel "Deceived"?

Rodrigo De Carli’s gonna have a lot of ’splainin’ to do! Janice Dickinson’s newest model has dealt with other dicks in his career. De Carli once worked for Chi Chi LaRue under the porn name Claudio Martin.

In addition to appearing in Deceived, the young buck got his fuck on in Raw Footage, Tyler Riggs: Shot for Shot, and some other titilating titles. Those features, of course, didn’t quite make it on De Carli’s resume for Dickinson’s Oxygen-sponsored reality show. A nameless homo tells LA Rag Mag:

Rodrigo wasn’t up front about his “film work” with production and still hasn’t told Janice. People close to him are worried what Janice’s reaction will be since he tried to keep it from her and production.

Bullshit! We bet Dickinson knew, pretended not to know and now hopes this will grab her show - which we honestly forget about, like, weekly - in the gossip columns.

source queerty

superannuated supermodel

2007-11-13T13:20:00.000-08:00

Janice Dickinson, superannuated supermodel

WOMAN OF THE WEEK

THE term "maneater" is an oft abused one, but, in the case of Janice Dickinson, the self-anointed "world's first supermodel" and one of the cast of the latest series of I'm A Celebrity ... Get Me Out of Here! which kicked off on ITV last night, it may just be accurate. Storming into a room on the I'm A Celebrity ... set last weekend, Dickinson, 52, eyed up 32-year-old Declan Donnelly, one half of the show's presenting duo Ant and Dec, and seemingly oblivious to his identity declared: "Another hottie! Hi, where are you from?"

But then why would you expect anything but terrifying boldness from the woman who recently claimed on the US radio programme The Howard Stern Show to have slept with more than 1,000 men (including Mick Jagger, Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Sylvester Stallone and Frank Zappa), has been divorced three times, and proudly calls herself "big-lipped Janice"?

While not yet a household name in the UK, Dickinson has been delighting gossip columnists in America since the early 1970s, when she became one of the first celebrity models, gracing the covers of Vogue and Elle magazines by day and partying with Andy Warhol and Truman Capote at Studio 54 by night. By 1979 she was one of the world's most recognisable models, the face of Revlon and a muse to Versace, Valentino, Alaia and other leading couturiers.

After three marriages, two children, copious amounts of substance abuse and the inevitable ravages of time, her modelling career was generally perceived to be on the wane - but then she was cannily hired by fellow former model Tyra Banks in 2002 to be "the Simon Cowell" of reality TV show America's Next Top Model, and Dickinson's frank, bitchy persona found a whole new audience. Her breathtakingly catty remarks ("you're too fat for modelling, honey") and all-or-nothing attitude ("you're dead to me now") made her an instant star, equally loved and loathed by millions of viewers.

In the end, she was allegedly fired from the show by Banks for her mouthy attitude, but, undaunted, went on to star in a rival show, Janice Dickinson's Modelling Agency, in which she attempted to sign up her own army of models, berated 19-year-olds for having miniscule amounts of cellulite, and jumped into swimming pools wearing thousands of dollars' worth of designer clothing.

She is remarkably up front about having had plastic surgery, saying that "without the fake breasts and the face lift, there'd be a middle-aged gray-haired lady staring at you". She was even filmed getting Botox injections for her show.

What you see is what you get with Dickinson: "I will never, ever respond to anybody - man, woman, vegetable or mineral - who tells me to keep my mouth shut." she said recently. Exactly, one imagines, what the producers of I'm A Celebrity... are hoping for.

This article: http://living.scotsman.com/people.cfm?id=1793952007

Last updated: 13-Nov-07 00:40 GMT

Archive 9/20/05 Tyra Fired Me

2007-11-13T13:19:00.000-08:00

Former supermodel JANICE DICKINSON has declared she was fired from her role as a judge on TYRA BANKS' AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL, shooting down claims she walked away from the reality show.

Earlier this year (05), it had been announced that British beauty TWIGGY would be replacing tough-talking Dickinson, who fans believed had left the show to star in the latest season of the hit reality series THE SURREAL LIFE.

But Dickinson now explains to Radar magazine, "I got fired. At first it was a trip. I believed in the show and it was fun. But after a few episodes I began getting labelled a bitch, and that got to me.

"I was just telling the truth and I was saving these girls from going out there and being told that they're too short, too fat, their skin's not good enough. I was to America's Next Top Model what SIMON COWELL is to AMERICAN IDOL.

"I'd rather be an honest bitch than some a*s-kissing, sugar-coating, namby-pamby, wiping-a*s motherf**ker. I made the show number one in 52 countries. And then I got the sack, and the UPN executives replaced me with Twiggy. No one in America knows who Twiggy is. There's no way anyone could fill my shoes. There's no way."

She adds of her former colleague, "Tyra's no walk in the park. Tyra's really righteous."

20/09/2005 03:00

Janice on Brit

2007-11-13T11:08:00.000-08:00

Former supermodel JANICE DICKINSON is offering her assistance to troubled star BRITNEY SPEARS. The 52-year-old, who overcame her own well-publicised battle with drink and drugs, is convinced the young singer would benefit from her advice. She tells TMZ.com, "Britney needs my help."

29/10/2007 12:48

Janice "IACGMOOH" news

2007-11-13T11:06:00.000-08:00

Former model Janice Dickinson has cost her I'm A Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here! team-mates a meal, after losing the first Bushtucker Trial in the series.

Janice had insisted she should represent the 'Snake Rock' in the contest against 'Croc Creek' member Marc Bannerman, telling her team-mates: "I'm ready to win. You know I will do my very best, 100 per cent to kick ass no matter what if I have to eat, sleep, s**t, f**k, whatever I'll do it."

And her determination might have got the better of her, after the minutiae of the first task was revealed.

Janice and former EastEnders actor Marc were strapped into a giant cog wheel from which they were required to collect stars held in a carriage on a miniature railway line below them.

And after being strapped in, Janice commented: "Wow, this is so S and M, I think I like it."

But of course, the celebrities had some rather unpleasant company for their first Bushtucker Trial, with the first carriage containing eels.

Janice squirmed at the slimy sea-dwellers, and though she fared better with the second carriage of fish guts, a third carriage of mealworms was too much for her and she conceded the trial to Marc.

Celebrating having grabbed all three stars, Marc - who played Gianni di Marco on the BBC1 soap - said: "Fantastic! I would have had to hang my head in shame had I have gone back without a meal."

Janice later clashed with PR guru Lynne Franks while cooking dinner and 'joked' about stabbing her.

13/11/2007 10:37:42

2007-11-13T11:03:00.001-08:00

Supermodel JANICE DICKINSON dreams of having a lesbian fling with ANGELINA JOLIE. DICkinson, who rose to fame in the 1970s, has had sexual encounters with a long list of celebrities, including SYLVESTER STALLONE and JACK NICHOLSON. And she has now turned her attentions to BRAD PITT's lover. The 52-year-old says, "She's gorgeous. She could have my babies. I'd do her in a heartbeat!"

27/09/2006 07:40

2002 Interview

2007-11-07T23:36:00.000-08:00

Wild thing: supermodel Janice Dickinson bares it all. (Buzz).(Interview)
Los Angeles Magazine, Sept, 2002, by Amy Wallace

"LA JANICE" LIES ATOP A TABLE IN A sweltering photo studio. She is on her back. She wears no shirt. Her silicone-enhanced breasts--"my 36C rad puppies"--jut out beneath her black satin brassiere. Her tummy is flat and caramel colored. There are silver rivets running up the seams of her size 6 blue jeans. Her feet are bare, and the way she rests them on the wall above makes her glitter toenail polish catch the light. She is a model. She is 47 years old. She is, she admits, a head case.

Janice Dickinson is getting ready to do the thing that, back in the late '70s and the '80s (what she calls "the Jurassic era of modeling"), put her on the cover of every major fashion magazine in the world: pose. Her makeup man, Kevin, is stenciling on her eyebrows and fixing her face; her hair man, Chad, is blowing out her red-brown mane. It will take hours to become perfect, but that's all right. Dickinson--muse of Versace, lover of Jagger (and Beatty, and Nicholson, and Stallone ...), and mother of two--has much to say to pass the time.

"If you think I'm over-the-top," she says, "I am."

Leaning her head back, she sends her hair cascading over the table's edge, and the words come spilling out of her--just like they did when she sat down to write her new autobiography, No Lifeguard on Duty: The Accidental Life of the World's First Supermodel (Regan Books). She talks fast, sometimes borrowing phrases from people she's met ("Dahlink!" Dickinson says, adding helpfully, "I'm doing Ivana Trump") or from cultural icons ("Willll-bur!" she whinnies, channeling Mr. Ed). In her head, Ivana and the horse complete each other's sentences. Is she wack for wack's sake? It's hard to tell. Especially when she keeps interrupting herself, reciting fragments of disco lyrics ("Don't stop 'til you get enough!") and the phone number of her plastic surgeon ("Call him for comment. Seriously. He's a master. That's why I would let only him touch my face. And my chest. And my ass").

"I got a book deal without even turning in one shred of a writing sample," she says, remembering the day she called the celebrity book editor Judith Regan to pitch her story. "I was having an invincible moment. I told her how difficult it was for me growing up with an abusive father, how when I went to New York to become a model I was rejected for a year for being `too ethnic.' Judith said, `Okay, I'm in.' And I hadn't even gotten to the A-list actors yet. Because it's not about the men that I dated. It's not about sleeping with Jack Nicholson."

Well, okay, maybe part of it is. In the memoir Dickinson lists a cavalcade of famous suitors. She says Liam Neeson is endowed like a barnyard animal and that Bruce Willis, prestardom, was the kind of sweetheart who bounds out of bed in the morning to go buy you breakfast. Beatty "knew where everything was and what to do with it" (though she reports that as much as he liked sex, he loved staring at himself in the mirror more) Jagger was "indefatigable." Stallone is said to have uttered the phrase "Bam ham slam" after their lovemaking. And Nicholson? The graphic, arrogant thing he supposedly told Dickinson after a night of passion cannot be reprinted here. But it's in the book, she says, because nobody tells Dickinson what to do.

"The reason that line made the book is because he told me not to say anything. And I will never, ever respond to anybody--man, woman, vegetable, or mineral--who tells me to keep my mouth shut. Alter what I've been through, I don't think so, pal," she says, arching a hennaed brow. "Wait until you read book two. I'll really throw in the guys. I didn't even begin to broach the subject."

A regular at Studio 54, Dickinson hung out with Andy Warhol, Truman Capote, and John Belushi. Her book is rife with recognizable names from the worlds of modeling, photography, fashion, and Hollywood, and its plotline is something you've read many times before: An ugly duckling's hidden shame makes her fight all the harder to become a swan. Dickinson's "Polish mutt" look--full, "waterbed landing pad" lips, dark tresses--was the opposite of the fair-haired, thin-lipped all-American ideal (think Cheryl Tiegs) of the late 1970s. But Dickinson helped prove that exotic, too, could sell.

Dickinson claims she "kicked the damn door in," making it easier for nonblonds like Gia Carangi, Cindy Crawford, and Christy Turlington to make it. That's not all she takes credit for. She says she coined the term "supermodel," for example, and that she's the one who gave Calvin Klein the idea to market underwear. Even at the height of her modeling career, however, when she was commanding top dollar and being photographed by the likes of Richard Avedon and Horst P. Horst, she says the memory of her father's brutality pushed her to abuse alcohol and drugs. Eventually she hit bottom.

"You can leave out my chronological age, dear. Or leave it in. I don't give a rat's ass. When I hit 45--ba da boom!--I couldn't stop crying," she says, in an imperious Norma Desmond drawl. If not for Tony Peck, Gregory's son, who helped her find a 12-step program near her Bel-Air home, Dickinson says she might not be here today, having Evian sprayed on her cheeks.

"Because of my father, I developed a crass, acerbic-witted, in-your-face attitude of defiance at an early age," she says, shutting her eyes as Kevin, the makeup man, applies a fine mist. "I couldn't focus in school. They thought it was ADD."

"It wasn't ADD," says Kevin. "It was DAD."

Dickinson laughs--a throaty crackling sound. "Write that!" she orders. "That's great. Without gay men, I am nothing." She can be a mensch. Dickinson looks fondly at Kevin. "He's taking my face from the unhealthy straggling insect chick to, like, a total diva."

"Do you know what I say when I go to Starbucks, just to give myself a little ego pump?" she says. "When they ask for name, I tell them, and they write it on the cup, and when my coffee's ready, they yell, out, `Diva Goddess!' and I say YES!'"

Interview With the Vamp

2007-11-07T23:34:00.001-08:00

Interview With the Vamp
by Philip Weiss

source: New York Observer

A few weeks back, a friend handed me model Janice Dickinson’s autobiography and said it was a juicy tell-all, but under that was a cold understanding of the currency of fashion: the drooling agents and clients, the callous celebrities, the routine personal abuse, the blurred line between prostitution and modeling, etc.

I read No Lifeguard on Duty at once and wasn’t disappointed. Janice Dickinson is a funny and fluid narrator. And while her book got peed on in The New York Times for its unwholesome descriptions of former lovers (Mick Jagger, Jack Nicholson, Warren Beatty and Liam Neeson), what makes it interesting is her scathing inventory—from age 47, in Los Angeles—of everyone’s desperate behavior, including her own. Young Janice would break down doors to make it, dress like a French whore, do almost anything to get what she wanted. And so would the men she ran into. "You really can sing," Muddy Waters told her, and she believed him, and believed Bill Cosby when he told her the same lie—that is, until she didn’t want to go to bed with him and he blew her off.

I called ReganBooks and learned that Janice Dickinson was coming to New York. I could meet her at the Omni Berkshire Place on East 52nd Street.

I’d been in the Guggenheim room on the second floor all of 10 seconds when I understood Janice Dickinson’s true nature: She’s a viper.

She was coiled in a corner on the floor saying loudly into a phone, "I danced with Justin Timberlake—it was dope," then unfolded her otherworldly legs to introduce herself with crisply condescending formality—"Hello, I’m Janice"—and a fine, long-boned handshake, promptly forgetting my name before stretching out on a window sill to have her makeup done by a guy in faux-lizard pants.

Finding the sun, she swept aside a tabloid with Hillary Clinton on the cover.

"Hillary needs to drop some weight," she said. "She needs better designer clothes."

"Why?"

"She could gain a lot of votes," Ms. Dickinson said.

"From who?"

"Gay makeup artists."

"I don’t think we should talk about politics."

She finally noticed me, with a poisonous look.

"O.K., what do you want to talk about? Plastic surgery? Astronomy? Shoes?"

"Whose shoes are you wearing?"

"Christian Lacroix. They’re Fakkame shoes. That’s Japanese for ‘fuck-me’ shoes."

Too quick and slightly out of control, with a raw edge of need, ribs showing under a slithery dress, the viper was also hungry. She slid off the window sill and sat down to room-service mozzarella and tomato with prosciutto. I sat across from her. The dress was Dolce & Gabbana and low-cut. A heavy green Art Deco amulet teetered over the billowing split of her cleavage. In addition to that—or them—you could see the spirit that it had taken for a young ethnic model to make it, dismissed by stupid people, she said with unsoftened anger, as a "Polish-mutt niggerlips in the era of Dairy Queen Cheryl Tiegs." She was angry today and had been calm yesterday, she filled in candidly, because she was PMS-ing big time, and I felt that she was taunting me with her sexuality.

("When did you come to New York—do you come often?" I said witlessly. "I try to come every day," she replied.)

I pushed her to reflect on how the industry works.

"You made it because you were so tough and driven," I said.

"No, because I was drop-dead gorgeous. I was lusted after walking down the streets of New York. It wasn’t the kind of appreciation I was getting from the agents. It wasn’t till I got to Europe that people started kissing my ass."

"Janice, there are lots of beautiful girls. Very few make it."

Suddenly some tone: "I grew up studying ballet; I grew up honing my craft. I looked at every Vogue that came out every month. I’m able to move like no one else you’ve ever seen in front of a camera. I find the light and work it, work it, work it."

"Sure, but your abusive childhood made you so desperate that you did things other people would never have done."

Jaw muscles tensed, ready to strike: "What’s your name? O.K., look, Phil—what was I supposed to do? I weighed out my options. Do I hook? Do I model?"

I thought of the time in the book when young Janice needs cash and Wilhelmina, her agent, says "I know just what you can do," and the next thing Janice is a waitress at an after-hours club where models are offering their sexual services.

"Was Wilhelmina sending you a signal when she told you to be a waitress there?"

Janice was quiet for once.

"I have to think about it. The answer is no. I’m trying to remember. Other agents do sell their models out to Arabs. She wasn’t inferring that to me. But yes, it’s a horrific, horrible business and abuses girls."

The book suggests that there’s a lot of sexual trade in the business. I brought up the Cosby story. Sweet and nice and Mr. American Television, till she says she’s too exhausted to come into his room.

From the book:

"‘Exhausted?’ he asked, and it was clear he was trying hard to keep his temper in check. ‘After all I’ve done for you, that’s what I get? I’m exhausted …. ’"

"‘Well gee Bill, if I had known it was going to be like this—’

"He waved both hands in front of my face, silencing me. Then he gave me the dirtiest, meanest look in the world, stepped into his suite, and slammed the door in my face."

"Oh, he’s so sad," Janice Dickinson said. "He dangled a TV role. And he called me in rehab to come to Tahoe. In rehab! I was shell-shocked, and I’m getting bushels of fruit from Jagger. No one gave a rat’s ass about my sobriety. But you see, that’s the gilded prison of fashion. We’re riding in private jets, and meantime I was so incredibly, painfully sad and lonely. And trying to fill up the vapid hole with sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll."

It reminded me of what an angry player on the Knicks had said a few years back: We’re paid millions of dollars but we can’t open our mouths. It’s just slavery, but for a lot of money. I told Janice Dickinson that story, but couldn’t remember the player’s name.

"Spencer Haywood, I think," she said.

"No, no. This is long after Spencer Haywood. I think it was Larry Johnson."

"Well, Spencer Haywood said the same thing. I used to go to games with his wife, Imam."

"Maybe we shouldn’t talk about basketball."

In a far window, the young blond publicist in a suit was making wind-it-up motions. Janice Dickinson hung in there, with a menacing, nervous high energy.

"That guy in The Times called me a fucking has-been, so I called that motherfucker up," she said. "I led him down the road. I said, ‘I really liked your style of writing.’ ‘You did?’ ‘Yes. I really think you write with aplomb. O.K., now you’ve heard all my superlatives—how can you call me a has-been? I’m a mother of two—the mere fact that I’m not on the society pages, going to crass, dumb, boring-ass parties! I’m a soccer mom in the American microcosm of Bel Air.’"

"What did he do?"

"He apologized. He said he was really sorry. What’s his name?"

"Guy Trebay."

"Yeah. Well, Guy Trebay can eat my ass."

"Were you always this ballsy?"

"Always. God granted me this gruff exterior. But basically, inside, I’m a piece of fluff."

I haven’t conveyed the soul of Janice Dickinson’s book. She was able to write such an honest account because she has been in a 12-step program for alcoholics and survivors of abuse, and was therefore able, she says, to cut off fibers of her being and put them in a book. Janice Dickinson’s childhood was a true horror show. Her father, a Merchant Marine whom she describes as a shit-kicker from West Texas, had three beautiful daughters and abused the eldest sexually. He demanded the same of No. 2, but No. 2 refused to roll. Janice got beaten up for that, but she learned to scare her father back (and seems in the end to have actually killed her father by throwing out a heart prescription he needed). By 14, she was drinking like a Mardis Gras pineappled drunk, she says, and ready to spit venom whenever anyone tried to take advantage of her, all the while dressing like a French whore to make sure that people tried.

The best scenes in the book involve John Belushi. She and Belushi hung out for a while, their manic self-destructive sides calling to one another, and the brilliant Belushi took her to an Atlantic City casino, shouting out across the floor, "Does anyone have any pot?"

When people crowded Belushi for autographs, he showed Janice Dickinson off.

They’ve got the best hookers in the world here, he said. Look at this girl. Where else in the world can you get a girl like this for a hundred bucks?

Between binges, Belushi explained his psychological theories of talent.

"This shit with your father, Janice. What a fucking monster. Telling you you’d never amount to anything. Don’t you see what it’s doing to you? … You keep falling for guys who make you feel like you don’t amount to anything. … It isn’t about any of those assholes. It’s about you; it’s about what happened to you. They’re just assholes. Unfortunately, they’re the assholes you happen to be attracted to, because they remind you of your father. That’s why I’m here …. To tell you that your life would be a lot easier if you were attracted to nice homely fat guys—guys like me."

Belushi was dead a few months later, in spring 1982. Apparently they never had sex, though here the story gets uncharacteristically fuzzy. ("Because he has a widow," Ms. Dickinson explained. "I’m careful about hurting people. Did I fuck John? No. Did I find him attractive? No.")

I was somewhat disappointed by meeting Janice Dickinson because she’s so manic. The book prepares you to meet someone who has stepped out of the fashion world, then calmly sold it out, when the truth is more complex: Janice Dickinson is still in it, still trying. Dancing with Justin Timberlake, showing off her breasts. And not really that interested in another person. In the end, she’s like all forces of nature—you take them on their own terms.

"I suppose I’m being turfy because I’m a writer," I said, "but I wonder how you got down all that great dialogue."

"I have a very vivid imagination," Janice Dickinson said. "And let’s put it this way—" She bent forward with a conspiratorial friendliness. "Everyone steals from something or someone. The great directors do it all the time. I borrow bits from everyone. In all parts of my life. What toothpaste I use. How I fuck."

I looked for a comeback, but had nothing. I was like the mouse after the snake is done, an empty mouse suit with the meat gone. "Why did you write this book?"

"To enable a young child to come out and tell her secrets. I want to give a shout-out to incest survivors and people who might be abused, to get into a program. The secrets almost killed me. I kept the secret of incest. I got hit so hard that I saw stars. It took ’ludes to give me the courage to tell my mother."

"But Janice, without that psychic wound, you’d just be some suburban mom—it gave you fire."

"No, it didn’t! I was born with that fire. I have to wake up and drink chamomile tea to slow down. I have incredible fucking energy!" One last forward lunge of the carnivorous cleavage: "I should bottle it and call it ‘Sexy Bitch.’"

"Thank you," I said, and she was gone.

SUPERMODEL

2007-11-07T23:25:00.000-08:00

Screw 'em Janice you are SUPERMODEL

all about Janice

2007-11-05T22:54:00.001-08:00

Janice Dickinson

AKA Janice Doreen Dickinson

Born: 15-Feb-1955 [1]
Birthplace: Brooklyn, NY

Gender: Female
Race or Ethnicity: White
Sexual orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Model

Nationality: United States
Executive summary: 1970s supermodel

As the child of a violent, pedophiliac father and a pill-popping mother, Janice Dickinson grew up hearing her father's "You'll never amount to nothing!" Determined to become a raging success, Dickinson went to New York City and began calling modeling agencies. It was the 1970s, and the ideal models were blonde girl-next-door types like Cheryl Tiegs, but Dickinson was a self described "Polish-mutt niggerlips". She was turned down by Eileen Ford but ended up going to Paris after Lorraine Bracco told her photographer boyfriend that she liked Dickinson's look.

She became a huge success in Europe, and returned to New York City in 1978. It was the era of Studio 54 and Dickinson partied with the likes of Truman Capote, Andy Warhol, and John Belushi. She seduced the most famous ladies' men, drank every drink and snorted or inhaled every drug. While foggy headed, she fell off a catwalk and onto Sophia Loren. Dickinson took revenge on Ford by signing with her agency and then jumping ship to Elite when she became established in the US.

After the end of her marriage to Ninja Turtle producer Simon Fields, Dickinson celebrated, and nine months later had a daughter named Savannah. She was quoted as saying "In the week I conceived, I had made love with five different men." Savannah was the subject of a fierce paternity battle with Sylvester Stallone. He accepted that he was the father until he saw Savannah's coloring, and DNA testing proved that he was not the father.

Dickinson is now clean and sober. She is a judge on America's Next Top Model, and a participant on The Surreal Life.

[1] Although Dickinson has maintained in several interviews and her autobiography No Lifeguard on Duty that she was born in 1955, other sources give it as 1953 or 1954. Most details from her life support 1955. Her birthday is also given variously as February 15 and February 17.

Father: Ray Dickinson (career Navy, d., heart attack)
Mother: Jennie Marie Pietrzykoski Dickinson (nurse)
Sister: Alexis Dickinson (real estate agent)
Sister: Debbie Dickinson (model)
Husband: Simon Fields (producer, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, m. 1987, div. 1993)
Son: Nathan Fields (b. 1987, with Fields)
Boyfriend: Michael Birnbaum (producer, The Big White, 1 daughter)
Daughter: Savannah (b. 24-Sep-1994, with Birnbaum)
Husband: Ron Levy (musician, divorced)
Husband: Albert Gerston (divorced)
Slept with: Mick Jagger
Boyfriend: Jon Lovitz
Slept with: Prince Albert II
Slept with: Warren Beatty,
Slept with: John Cusack
Slept with: Grace Jones
Slept with: John F. Kennedy, Jr.
Slept with: Kelly LeBrock
Slept with: Dolph Lundgren
Slept with: Liam Neeson
Slept with: Jack Nicholson
Slept with: Bruce Willis
Slept with: Frank Zappa
Slept with: Sylvester Stallone

High School: Hollywood, FL (1973)

Alcoholics Anonymous
unknown detox facility
Abortion twice
Belarusian Ancestry
Polish Ancestry
Risk Factors: Alcoholism, Marijuana, Heroin, Cocaine, LSD

TELEVISION
The Surreal Life Herself

FILMOGRAPHY AS ACTOR
Wassup Rockers (12-Sep-2005)
Exposed (22-Apr-1983)

Author of books:
No Lifeguard on Duty: The Accidental Life of the World's First Supermodel (2002, memoir)
Everything about Me Is Fake: And I'm Perfect (2004, memoir)
Check Please! Dating, Mating, and Extricating (2006, self-help)