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Like every supermodel, Ruslana Korshunova had to grow up a lot faster than the rest of us. Plucked from her native Kazakhstan by a London fashion of New York and on the cover of Vogue. Her almond eyes and "fairy-tale" features had given her a life of almost instantaneous success that, we might imagine now, became overwhelming. In some ways Korshunova was still a minor, at least in the eyes of American law. She would have turned 21 in first week of July and thus finally been allowed legally to drink in any of the myriad bars in the lower Manhattan neighbourhood where she lived. But that milestone will never be hers. As tourists milled past on June 28 afternoon, Korshunova plunged from the balcony of her ninth-floor apartment to the ground, tearing a hole in orange construction netting on the way to the pavement below. It was 2.30 pm on an exceptionally sultry New York afternoon. The young woman with a full career already travelled and surely an even brighter one still ahead, died instantly, officials said. For now, however, questions about what might have driven the Kazakh beauty to extinguish her life were mostly answered only by speculation. Friends reported that she had recently returned from a job in Paris and seemed to be "on top of the world". Yet there was one place where clues to a confused heart and torn soul were to be found. Korshunova belonged to the internet generation for whom social networking sites such as Facebook and MySpace can substitute for clubs, confessionals and therapist chairs. "I am so lost. Will I ever find myself?" she wrote on one site three months ago. "I’m a bitch. I’m a witch. I don’t care what you say." The fashion industry is not unaware that its stars, brought into the media glare at such young ages, face pressures they can barely cope with. Two years ago, after the death from starvation of the Brazilian model Ana Carolina Reston, a campaign was launched to protect the young women from taking their quests for thinness too far. Fashion week organisers in Madrid, Milan and elsewhere instituted minimum body-mass ratios for girls on their runways. But even girls who can handle the perils of eating disorders have other issues to deal with, most of them having to do simply with life coming at them too quickly. And some fight a kind of loneliness that cities such as New York can sometimes make more acute and which cannot be cured by dawdling on Facebook. Korshunova’s journey began back in 2003. Debbie Jones, a principal with the leading European agency Models 1, spotted her photograph in an in-flight magazine article. It was about Korshunova’s efforts as a teenager in Almaty, Kazakhstan’s largest city, to learn German. Ms Jones was mesmerised by her features. "She looked like something out of a fairytale!" she was to recall later. "We had to find her and we searched high and low until we did! She’s really incredible, with feline features and timeless beauty." Even before appearing in the 2005 New York Fashion Week modelling for Marc Jacobs, Korshunova had a portfolio to make her peers as green as her bright eyes. She had posed for the likes of Mario Sorrenti, Paolo Roversi and Willy Van Der Perre and appeared in campaigns for Kenzo, Clarins and Paul Smith. More recently, she modelled for Kenzo, Vera Wang, Nina Ricci, Donna Karan and Christian Dior. Her magazine covers extended from Russian Vogue to French Elle. British Vogue identified hers as a "face to be excited about," while some fashion writers dubbed her the "Russian Rapunzel".But there were signs on her blog. Not everything in her life apparently made sense to her. Her entries were alternately in Russian and English. Some seemed optimistic, while others were bleak. "Life is short, Break the rules, Forgive quickly, Kiss slowly, Love truly, Laugh uncontrollably," she offered in a short poem. "And never regret anything that made you smile. "But in January she made this tormented entry: "t hurts, as if someone took a part of me, tore it out, mercilessly stomped all over and threw it out. "My dream is to fly. Oh, my rainbow, it is too high." By arrangement with The Independent
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