The automatic doors shudder open as though they have remained unused for the last century and I am faced with an army of Chinese faces.  They stare vacuously at me as a horse would stare at a unicorn; a blank sense of astonishment mixed with a hint of curiosity can be read on each and every face.  Welcome to the Beijing subway, public transport system for all residents of the 'Jing.

It's rush hour and the train carriage I step into is full of Chinese workers on their way home.  It is not entirely untypical of them to stare like this, however today is especially awkward as I, too, am on my way home from work and as such plastered in make-up.  The 'concept' for today's fashion show was apparently to make me look suitably ridiculous.  Hair slicked back revealing my giant forehead, and smoky eyes resembling those of Cat Woman, I guess this is the Asian idea of how best to represent the men's business suits we were showing today.

The train sets off and I begin my slow (oh so slow) journey back home.  During the ride home I barely move, and every pair of eyes on the train barely moves from me.  Truly, I am perpetuating the myth in mainland China that all foreigners are aliens - the only super tall, super white, super blonde, big foreheaded, make-up wearing laowei that some of these subway patrons have ever seen in their lives, and if not their lives, certainly the only one on the subway at rush hour.

To be clear, I'm a male model from England currently floating around Asia in search of adventure and a taste of adventure.  Having travelled extensively with modelling I am in the unique and lofty position to give insight into the mind-boggling Asian modelling market.

The next day I'm pulling double duty.  Working 2 days in a row I admit to finding a little tiring.  As ridiculous as it sounds posing at work can be really exhausting (I kid you not).  I used to scorn at people who complained about working too much, never again!

Today I'm shooting a look book for some 'fashiony' brand - the kind of black drapery I find easiest to work with.  Hitting the camera lense with my signature look (somewhere between the dead-pan and the smize), the clients click happily away to themselves in Mandarin while I twirl around like their teenage dream - their dreams were obviously filled with ethereal androgyne vampires who wear Dior Homme knockoffs and are able to change clothes quickly.

Feeling pretty pleased with myself by the end of the day having been showered with praise and frankly, ridiculous compliments: "you look like Agyness Deyn" (I definitely do not), it's easy to believe you're at the centre of the universe.  To describe this feeling as uncomfortable, and at the same time a little fabulous would be an expression that could blanket my entire experience of modelling in Asia.  The key to staying sane is to love it, but not too much.  Hate it, but not too much, and to remember that happiness is just a 3 month contract away.