Enjoy this piece by resident tall glass of water, Charlie Levine—an elite companion who has mastered the art of owning her statuesque frame. Enjoy her witty reflections on growing into this most statuesque USP.  Dare I say, ahem, heigh fetish?

In the unlikely event that, say, a forensic artist were to draw me, I bet they’d start with one long vertical line. Even by Dutch standards, I am indeed quite tall (and if you’ve ever been to the Netherlands, you know that’s no small feat). Always the reliable meeting point in a crowd since puberty, my coming-of-age story is inextricably bound with my coming of height. Yet not even in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that it would one day become one of my more unexpected USPs, or one of the traits most appreciated by those with a penchant for height.

Long before I became a companion and could even fathom my height’s professional appeal, standing tall felt less like a blessing and more like an ungainly fact of my body, one I spent years trying to (surprise, surprise) unsuccessfully hide, let alone celebrate. Learning to own that much height definitely didn’t happen overnight.

But now, dear reader, having (quite literally) risen above those insecurities, I’m pleased to recount the trials and tribulations of dramatically springing up: the awkward early years, the endless questions and observations, and what a few extra inches can reveal about people. All this, from your resident tall glass of water.

1. I grew into it

Perhaps it’s a little hard to imagine, but in primary school, whenever we lined up by height for PE (surprisingly often, if memory serves), I always ended up neatly in the middle. Then, boom, puberty hit. Without warning I sprouted like Jack and the Beanstalk. Almost overnight I became a bundle of gangly limbs I could not at all coordinate: long, thin, suddenly underweight, and moving through the world with a good few inches more than I had planned.

How did I, physically and mentally an average-sized girl, end up in such a tall girl’s body? I hadn’t a clue. While my mother was rather tall in her day, my father wasn’t particularly tall, and I eventually outgrew them both.

Only much later did I discover the likely explanation. Girls generally stop growing shortly after their first period. Being underweight, as I was, can delay that milestone. Voilà, mystery solved. But at fifteen, all I wanted to know was what to do with these lanky arms and long-stretched legs that seemed to have become sovereign entities of their own.

2. Boys didn’t fancy me. Modelling agencies did

As my hipbones sharpened and my shoulder blades began projecting like those of real-life winged angels (the longer the legs, the closer to God, I guess), scouts hovered below me with predatory enthusiasm. Classmates, meanwhile, saw a clumsy creature with elbows and knees all over the place. It wasn’t very “cool” to like me, this peculiar baby giraffe.

I stood out now, not just in the classroom but everywhere I went: supermarkets, bars, sidewalks, libraries, public bathrooms. And people, bless their hearts, enthusiastically and relentlessly reminded me of that fact.

3. Everyone has something to say

I can’t even recall the number of times strangers have said, “Do you know you’re really, really tall?”, as if alerting me to a remarkable new discovery.

A few of the other classics include, of course:

  • “Do you play volleyball?”
  • “You should play basketball.”
  • “You’re taller than me!”
  • “How tall are you? No, that can’t be true.”
  • “Do you like shorter men?”
  • “How’s the air up there?”
  • “How’s the view?”
  • “Do you model?”
  • “Can you reach that?”
  • “Is it hard to find trousers that fit?”
  • “Is it hard to find a boyfriend?”

A true classic, after all, owes its status to endless repetition. Oh, Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence.

4. Standing out isn’t always a compliment

People tend to assume us tall girls wear our height with pride. But they forget that most people don’t actually want to stand out. They want to blend in. Especially teenagers.

In Dutch there’s a saying, steek je kop niet boven het maaiveld uit, roughly translated as: don’t stick your head above the parapet. Don’t stand out, or, figuratively speaking, your head might roll as a result. Rather a creepy one, culturally, if you think about it a little too long.

The problem was that my head was literally sticking out above the parapet, which was, yes, quite daunting all things considered. So at fifteen I avoided heels, hunched a little, and fantasised about donating a few inches to the universe.

If only I could be shorter. Short enough for hip-hop songs about “shorties” to apply to me for once. By then I’d thoroughly internalised society’s ideas about femininity and had become convinced that, to be feminine, I somehow had to find a way to shrink myself. (I know, so sad.)

5. I fell for tall women

At some point, tall women began to mesmerise me. Perhaps they always had, but for the first time I became conscious of it. Their presence. Their stride. The way their clothes draped over long frames. The sudden urge I felt to kiss those impossibly long limbs. The way they never seemed to apologise for existing at that scale. The effortless confidence with which they inhabited femininity.

And, perhaps unsurprisingly, around the same time I came into my own bisexuality, I began to recognise those same qualities in myself. It didn’t happen overnight, but one day there it was: confidence. And, by God, how lucky am I that I now get to enjoy the company of my fellow Amazons at KLE (cue Elle and Angelica), both on and off the clock.

6. I decided to stand tall

So here are my answers to the aforementioned classics:

  • No, I don’t play volleyball or basketball. Ball sports are not my forte (go ahead, make the joke).
  • Yes, I’m likely taller than you.
  • I’m exactly six feet and two-thirds of an inch (183 cm), barefoot, hand on my heart.
  • Yes, I very much like shorter men (and women!).
  • The air and the view up here are excellent, thank you.
  • Yes, I modelled, and still do every once in a while. But I also really love to eat, which made me opt out of turning it into a full-time career.
  • Yes, I can reach that for you.
  • Yes, trousers are a nightmare.
  • No, I’ve got 99 problems, but finding a boyfriend ain’t one. 😉

And as for, “Do you know you’re really, really tall?” Well, yes. Are you jealous?

7. My height found its audience

The rumours are true: my legs do, in fact, go on forever. Somewhere along the line, one of my greatest teenage insecurities became one of my most recognisable professional assets. In my life as a high-end escort, being tall turned out to be something clients actively seek out.

I still find it quite amusing that the very feature I once wished I could trim is now one of the things that brings people to me from around the world (or vice versa, per FMTY). I’ve made friends with being that tall glass of water. And as it turns out, quite a few people are indeed quite thirsty.

8. Height reveals people

Sometimes I joke that everybody loves a tall woman, but nobody wants to walk next to her. But of course, as my track record of strolling partners, in life as in work, has demonstrated by now, this isn’t actually the case. I think height functions as a kind of psychological litmus test. People reveal their relationship to confidence, convention, and themselves almost instantly in how they respond to it.

The people who seek me out are a wonderfully varied bunch. Some arrive already knowing exactly what they want: the proportions, the aesthetics, the visual impact of a tall muse. Then there are the model-esque tall men, women, and couples simply looking for their aesthetic equal (fair enough!).

Some are certified short kings and queens. They’re often completely unbothered, confident, and delight in the contrast. Maybe they’re even a little smug about it and, might I say, rightfully so.

Others are simply curious. They may never have spent time with someone taller before and approach the experience almost like a small social experiment. Some are startled in the doorway but recover. Some are instantly delighted.

The range is broader than people imagine. Personally, anyone who walks proudly next to a taller woman gives off that irresistible genius film director and his muse energy that I am particularly partial to. I’ve always loved pictures that are perfectly imperfect, pairings that seem unlikely in society’s eyes (on that note, I’ve always adored documentaries about unlikely animal friends), and the small streak of rebellion against height and gender norms my lovers must possess if they’re to take me by the arm.

9. Taking up space

This is the part people rarely think about: when you’re tall, you learn early that your body is impossible to ignore. As a teenager, I occupied more space than most, whether I intended to or not. For years I worked against that, folding myself down, shrinking, minimising, negotiating the inches away.

Now, in work as much as in life, I do the opposite. I’ve finally grown into my height and expand into it fully, as if to say, in clear body language, that being a woman is not about making yourself smaller but about confidently taking up space. (No matter your height, baby.)

I’ve noticed that people tend to mirror the amount of space you’re willing to let them occupy. When I stopped shrinking myself, others seemed to stop shrinking too. They expand into whatever they’ve been resisting in themselves: ease, confidence, curiosity, vulnerability, exploration, or all sorts of beautifully pent-up desires.

To end on level ground

So perhaps you could argue that my height creates room, not just above me, but for those around me. Clients may arrive because I’m tall, but they stay for reasons that have nothing to do with inches or centimetres (choose your measurement system wisely, my friend).

Height is merely the opening note. Everything that matters, connection, chemistry, humour, warmth, intellectual curiosity, and ease, happens at eye level. Wherever that eye level may be. Vertically or, let’s face it, much more commonly, horizontally.

Care to explore your height fetish?  If you are ready to find out what happens when we meet eye-to-eye, let’s find out what delicious horizontal alignment that awaits. Reach out to book an unforgettable, statuesque date with me, or explore the exceptional array of companions at KLE.

Meet Charlie at Eye-to-Eye | Explore the KLE Collective