I hate dentists. That's why my tooth fell out. I was in the middle of a root canal and wouldn't go back, so it just dropped out when I was in the middle of Fifth Avenue.

Once I was walking from The Mercer in New York - because otherwise I don't walk anywhere - and this woman paparazzo who was following me fell over a fire hydrant and her whole tooth went through her lip. I leant over her, saying, 'Are you all right?' and she was still taking pictures.

All of a sudden I was living what is perceived to be the model life. It was just full-on, 24 hours a day. It was work all the time. And there's always a party to go to.

There's always a dinner to go to. There're always loads of people around. I was having fun working with my friends. For a while it all just kind of rolled together in a great way.

If the plane lost all my luggage, and I was somewhere sunny like Ibiza, I would just get a bikini, shorts, T-shirt, and sandals. If it was somewhere colder like New York, I'd go for jeans, jacket, and a pair of Louboutins.

The 17th Street Canal is doing great, and we're moving very aggressively to the London Avenue breaches.