How the 'shyest girl in the world' got her start as a global fashion model

Harris was a 13-year-old Indigenous girl growing up in regional Australia when she made her breakthrough as a finalist in Girlfriend magazine's cover model search in 2004.

She describes herself back then as a "housing commission kid" who was "very, very shy" - self-consciously tall at 5 foot 11 inches, not "white enough for the white kids and not black enough for the other Indigenous kids", and with only one close friend to talk to at school in Filipino classmate Jarellah.

In a modelling industry built on European beauty ideals, she was used to being overlooked in childhood pageants until a 2002 Dolly magazine-sponsored "most likely to succeed" catwalk contest at a Tweed Heads shopping centre landed her the grand prize - a Tommy Hilfiger gift basket.

Two years later, as Myrna Davison rang around for help to get her daughter from their home in the NSW Northern Rivers region to Brisbane for the chance to enter the Girlfriend model search being judged by "big-time modelling agency" Chic Model Management, the proud Dunghutti woman would be told: "Australia isn't ready for an Aboriginal model".

"Mum hung up, but not before delivering some stern you're-going-to-regret-this-one-day words," Harris recalls.

In this extract from Role Model, co-authored with her mother, Harris remembers her life-changing Girlfriend model search experience - a journey that would set the then teen on her way to fronting fashion campaigns and catwalks for Australian designers such as Carla Zampatti and Lisa Ho, an international contract with Italian fashion house Miu Miu and appearances in magazines like Vogue, Marie Claire and Elle.

When you're staying in a hotel room with a three-year-old, nobody gets to sleep in. Although, I don't think my excitement would have let me sleep past 5am anyway. Up well before the sun, Mum brushed my hair while I looked through the bag of make-up she'd recently bought. After completing a modelling course run locally by Katrina's School of Beauty (to increase my confidence), I was convinced I needed more than just lip gloss and mascara. Featuring zero branding, the products still felt extra special to me.

Once ready, I took a final look in the mirror before helping Mum pick up my little brother Chris and our bags. Within seconds of leaving our room, I was reminded that I'd have to help Mum brave the lift. Sensing neither of us were keen for trauma counselling, I didn't push it when Mum said she'd take the stairs and meet us in the lobby. It was well before the 9am call time when we arrived at Westfield Carindale. Aside from a few cleaners finishing their night shifts and the organisers setting up for the event, it felt like we were the only people there. Mum, who still had a bit of spending money, took us up the escalators to the food court for breakfast at Macca's. Room service and Maccas! Life is good.

We were sitting near the side of the stage, waiting for the competition to start, when a blonde woman approached us dressed head to toe in black. She had a blunt fringe and the slightest hint of a German accent when she asked Mum if I was there to enter the modelling competition. The woman introduced herself as Ursula and suggested that I should join the 'fast track' queue.

I found out later that I had caught Ursula's attention when she saw me sitting with Mum and Chris. The fast track queue was for girls who had sent their entries in before the day, which of course, I hadn't done. But Ursula was trying to make it easier for me to take part and, apparently, easier for her to keep her eye on me! As well as the main Model Search, there was a catwalk competition for the entrants to do for fun while we waited to meet the judges.

I was not confident in my chances of winning anything. But then again, we'd come so far, I figured I might as well stick around and do as much as I could. I managed to muster a nod while Ursula cracked something that could be classed as a smile. Little did we know that Ursula Hufnagl was the Managing Director of Chic, and had asked about the catwalk competition because she wanted to see what I looked like on stage.

After throwing our rubbish in the bin, I washed my hands in the toilets and told Mum I was going to line up. Unsurprisingly, I was the first in line, and the Girlfriend magazine representatives summoned me to step forward at exactly nine o'clock. They had me fill out a form and pose for a few photos on a digital camera. Before I walked away, they asked to take a Polaroid to clip to my form and said that if I made it to the finals, I'd receive a phone call within two weeks. After thanking them, I found Mum entertaining Chris in a nearby play zone. It was now 9.03 am. While giving her the run-down, I couldn't stop thinking about just how much Mum had had to do for me to have barely a three-minute exchange with some strangers. I hope it's all not a huge waste of time.

By lunchtime, the shopping centre was packed with people, and the line for the catwalk competition was snaking down past the shops when I took my place. Most of the girls looked a bit older than me, probably 15 or 16. Even though I was one of the youngest contestants, I was definitely the tallest. As I stared down at the slow-flowing river of (mostly) blonde hair in front of me, I mentally rehearsed the walking techniques I'd learned in my modelling course. Pick a spot on the back wall and lock eyes with it. Swing your arms but not too much. Most importantly: Don't fall.

Shortly before it was my turn, Mum came to tell me where she and Chris would be standing to watch, which made me feel more confident.

'Samantha?' a woman asked while tilting her head to read my name tag.

'Yes,' I whispered.

'You're contestant number 26. Clip this to your hip. As soon as the next model exits, you're on. When you're done, you can put your number in that bin over there. Good luck!'

I said, 'Thank you' but doubt the woman heard me because I was staring at the ground. Too nervous for eye contact, all I could do was focus on my feet and hope they'd carry me where I needed to go. The model before me was leaving, which meant it was my turn. I took my first step onto the catwalk, locked eyes with a fire exit sign and prayed that I wouldn't fall.

With every step my breathing slowed, my shoulders relaxed, and I found myself having fun. It was interesting how much easier it felt to be watched by a room full of strangers than by people I knew. I thought that spending a weekend travelling with Mum and Chris and staying in a hotel was enough to keep me on cloud nine for a lifetime. I couldn't believe it would get any better, until it was announced that I was the winner of the Queensland State Finals! Now I had to wait to find out what would happen next.

It's a good thing I had those memories to hold onto because time literally crawled for the next two weeks. Having spent every day obsessively checking that my phone ringer was turned on loud and that I didn't have any calls accidentally go to voicemail, I was more than surprised to see that I had a missed call while lying on the lounge after school one day. It was a drizzly, overcast day, so I was watching a movie. Hoping it was the Girlfriend people, I yelled out that I had missed a call from an unknown number. Mum didn't hide that she was annoyed and told me I should have kept my phone on loud. Not bothering to explain that I thought it was on loud, I tried to call the number back. The only problem was that I didn't have enough credit.

Thankfully, they rang Mum's phone just minutes later to tell her I was a finalist and that they'd be flying me down to Sydney for a photoshoot for the magazine the following week. Narrowed down to just six finalists out of 5500 entries from across Australia, Girlfriend's readers would help determine our fate by voting for who they wanted to win. I was one step closer to becoming a model! But possibly more exciting was that I was going to Sydney on an aeroplane!

Mum couldn't afford for her and Chris to come with me. But not wanting me to miss out, she faced her separation fears and sent me as an unaccompanied minor, which was one of the best and most traumatising experiences of my life. Keep in mind that at the age of 13, I'd never been to an airport. Really, I hadn't done much of anything without Mum. So, while the idea of being on an actual plane was very cool, I was not thrilled about adding the word 'turbulence' to my vocabulary.

As the plane jolted up and down, I watched people casually sipping on cups of steaming coffee while others did crossword puzzles. Most remarkably of all - some were sound asleep. The flight attendants, all with Colgate smiles, manicured nails and not a hair out of place, gracefully paraded up and down the aisle, never missing a beat even though the pilot's finger was no doubt hovering over the 'Fasten seatbelts' button. I was white knuckling the armrests and wondering who would ever want a job like that when one of them asked if I'd care for something to drink. Her smiling face momentarily distracted me from the thought of nose-diving into the ground.

'No, thank you. I'm fine,' I replied.

The truth is, I was thirsty. But my hands were so sweaty that the idea of trying to hold any type of liquid and risk spilling it over me, or even worse, someone else, was all too much. When the plane touched down and my muscles began to relax, I found myself back on the wave of excitement I'd been riding since that momentous phone call. I didn't think things could get any better!

I came through arrivals and was greeted by a woman holding a sign with my name on it. Just as lovely as the flight attendants, she took me to the apartment where I'd be bunking with the five other finalists: Abbey Lee Kershaw, Allegra Carpenter, Elle Treleven, Amelia Jennings and Kathryn. (Just 'Kathryn', like Madonna.) Once we'd all settled into our home for the next two days, we were given matching bright pink pyjamas with the Girlfriend logo printed on them.

As expected, we talked about boys and plaited each other's hair until lights out. I'm just kidding; we did talk, but not about anything other than how cool it was that we'd made it to the final round out of so many girls and how Chic might sign us. Unsurprisingly, I wasn't offering much more than whispers and nods of agreement. We were pretty chuffed by how generous Girlfriend had been with the flights, apartment, accommodation and dinner at Sydney's Hard Rock Cafe, and all very into the idea of being represented by the same agency that represented Miranda Kerr.

At the shoot the next day, we did a series of photos that would be published in Girlfriend magazine shortly after the winner was announced. The photographer took individual shots followed by a group shot. The other girls looked so comfortable in front of the camera, especially Abbey Lee. Three years older than me, with cheekbones that made her look cooler than Johnny Depp, she made being beautiful seem like the easiest thing in the world, while I was reaching new levels of shyness.

Dressed in layers of Bonds singlets, a pink tweed mini skirt and wearing the face of a stunned mullet, I was confused about what the photographer meant by 'work the camera'.

'Look up, Sam. Don't look at your feet, look at the camera,' a producer said kindly.

I lifted my head and looked at the camera. The photographer did his best to help me strike more poses than just 'deer caught in headlights', but moving one hand to my hip didn't do much more than give the 20 bangles I was wearing more real estate to spread out.

The same producer who'd told me to look up poked her head out from behind a monitor and said she thought we'd got the shot. Relieved, I forced myself to look her and then the photographer in the eye when I thanked them. Looking someone in the eye might sound easy but for me, being so shy, it was incredibly hard. Mum taught me that in some Aboriginal cultures, it is considered a sign of respect to Elders to avoid direct eye contact. Although she says that in her experience, that is not so much the case anymore, in some communities, it is still respectful to avoid looking people directly in the eye.

Before flying home, I was asked to do a series of interviews with journalists from major magazines and blogs. Considering one of the appeals of modelling was that you typically didn't have to talk, I found the press part of the experience really tough. On top of making eye contact, I had to learn to raise my voice. I would have preferred to stay quiet, but that wasn't easy when the subject everyone wanted to talk about was me being the Aboriginal model.

Shortly after I was back home with Mum, Today Tonight contacted Chic for an interview with us. Just the thought of being on TV was something both Mum and I lost sleep over. Sensing our hesitance, the co-founder of Chic, Kathy Ward, said she'd fly up from Sydney to help us with preparation and filming. A classic Eastern Suburbs blonde mum, Kathy is the perfect combination of mogul and caring mother. Always rushing somewhere or frantically doing something, this woman knows how to get things done while being everything to everyone.

Aside from family and Jarellah, I never really had anyone come over to our place, which explains why I was so surprised by the look of pure shock that shot across Kathy's face when she stepped into our lounge room. And then I remembered that not everyone's mum has a shrine to them in their home. Since I was little, Mum had kept every newspaper clipping about me and photos from my shoots; you name it, she'd kept it. She'd had them all laminated and put them up on the walls.

Kathy's shock quickly morphed into her gorgeous, signature smile as she started saying her hellos to everyone, as if she'd known us all forever. With a cup of tea in hand, she started to make her way around the shrine, inspecting every picture and patiently listening to Mum describe in detail all the reasons I should have come first in previous competitions but didn't. (Gotta love mums, hey!)

When she'd been brought up to speed, Kathy got down to business and explained that Today Tonight would be filming us in our home. She said they'd likely ask about my culture and how it felt to be the first Aboriginal girl to be a finalist in Girlfriend's modelling competition.

It almost felt too good to be true. You have to remember, I never saw girls who looked like me in magazines, TV commercials or in movies, for that matter. Perhaps that's why it was so easy to say to Today Tonight that everything felt like a dream. If I didn't pinch myself, I wouldn't believe it was real.

While I knew it was a big deal, it would take a few more years and vulnerable conversations with Mum to truly understand just how big a deal it actually was. Even though I felt connected to my Aboriginal culture through Mum's knowledge and wisdom, Mum sheltered me from so much and didn't talk about what had happened to her and my aunties until I was much older.

For me, life as a Dunghutti girl growing up on Bundjalung land was spent learning about native plants, searching for mud crabs among the mangroves and gathering pipis for Mum's famous pipi curry. It was spent learning important things about our culture, like the need to get permission to walk on another clan's land and the power of connecting with the spirit world for guidance.

At 13, it didn't occur to me that generations of Aboriginal kids had been robbed of those experiences and lessons.