Toma Korol’s phone buzzes constantly. Instagram notifications, mostly—girls from Ukraine, from Poland, from Romania, asking the same questions she once asked herself. How do I start? Which agency? Am I too old at 20? She’s scrolling through them between bites of lunch in LA, and here’s the thing: she actually responds.
“I mean, I get it,” she says, putting her phone face-down. “You’re sitting there looking at all these girls who made it, and you’re like… how? No one really tells you the real stuff, you know?”
In eight years, Korol has gone from opening shows at Ukrainian Fashion Week to shooting campaigns for Chrome Hearts and Emporio Armani, walking Haute Couture in Paris, appearing in music videos for Max Barskih, Dan Balan and Monatik. She’s signed with agencies across Europe—Spain, France, Italy, Greece, Sweden—plus her mother agency L-Models back home. The kind of career that’s supposed to make you too important to care about some random teenager’s questions.
She still answers them anyway. Sometimes at 2 a.m. between castings.
The early days were all Kyiv. Ten seasons of Ukrainian Fashion Week, maybe more—she loses count. Andre Tan, Frolov, The COAT by Katya Silchenko, Arsen Senchina, Anna Berezkina, Julie Poustovit. She opened and closed their shows so many times it became routine, which sounds glamorous until you remember that “routine” in fashion means controlled chaos. Hayk Avanesyan’s tailoring, the conceptual work from Vorozhbit & Zemskova, Lana Kravchenko’s collections, Alina Alionova, Marusia Burenina, Ksenia Kovalska, all the emerging designers like Six Brand, The Bodywear, Sanna One, Flow the Label—each one taught her something different about how to move, how to hold fabric, how to disappear into someone else’s vision.
“Ukrainian designers don’t baby you,” Korol says. There’s a pause while she thinks about how to phrase it. “They just… they expect you to show up and know what you’re doing. No one’s explaining everything. You learn fast or you don’t work again.”
That education paid off when she started booking European shows. Paris Haute Couture is a different animal—millions of dollars in hand-beaded gowns, front rows full of people who’ve seen everything. One mistake and you’re memorable for the wrong reasons. She’s walked those shows multiple times now. Milan too. It starts to feel normal, which is maybe the strangest part.
Then there’s the commercial work, which is where most models actually make their living. Korol’s done campaigns and e-commerce for Banana Republic, Cult Gaia, Urban Outfitters, Skims, Abercrombie & Fitch, Etam, Stradivarius, Bershka, Pull&Bear, Emporio Armani, H&M. The list keeps going because the work keeps coming, which in this industry is the only thing that matters. You’re only as good as your last booking.
The Chrome Hearts x Mikimoto campaign was different though. That jewelry collaboration—Chrome Hearts’ rock-and-roll luxury meets Mikimoto’s perfect pearls—needed visuals that could hold their own against two legendary brands. The images ended up everywhere. People who don’t follow fashion knew that campaign. “That was… yeah, that was special,” she says, and you can tell she means it.
What’s interesting is how Korol moves between all these different aesthetics without losing herself. She shoots swimwear, lingerie, beauty, luxury—there’s always this through-line of sophistication even when the brief is simple. Watch her on a high-volume e-commerce shoot, the kind where they need 200 looks in eight hours and there’s no time for artistry, and she’s still finding moments. Clients notice. That’s why the repeat bookings keep happening.
Music videos were a departure. Max Barskih, Dan Balan, Monatik—different energy than static fashion work. You have to move differently, emote, become someone else for three minutes. “I actually love that work,” she says. “It’s less about being perfect and more about… I don’t know, having presence?”
Right now she’s based in LA, which is its own learning curve. The American market operates on different logic than Europe—more commercial, social media matters way more, everyone wants to know your follower count before they book you. She’s adapting. Meetings with West Coast photographers, test shoots, slowly building the same network she has in Europe. Her agency roster tells the story: L-Models in Ukraine, UNO in Spain, Women360 in France, The Agency in Milan, Ace Models in Greece, The Wonders in Sweden. Each one represents a different market, different clients, different opportunities. You don’t build that kind of infrastructure by accident.
But here’s what makes Korol’s story interesting beyond just “successful model works a lot.” Those Instagram DMs aren’t slowing down—if anything, they’re increasing. Young models, mostly from Ukraine and Eastern Europe, trying to figure out how this world actually works. What should my book look like? How do you deal with rejection? Which agencies actually respond to cold emails? Do I need to be in New York?
She answers with specifics. Real information from eight years of trial and error. “Look, if I can help someone avoid mistakes I made, why wouldn’t I?” She shrugs. “It’s not like there’s only room for one of us. That’s old thinking.”
Some people would call this naive—helping your competition, giving away trade secrets. But Korol doesn’t see it that way. The industry is huge. The work is varied enough that there’s space for different faces, different energy. And honestly, the idea that there’s only room for one Ukrainian model on the international stage feels increasingly outdated anyway.
Since 2022, Ukrainian models have been navigating complicated territory. More visibility, sure, but also this weight of representing a country that much of the Western fashion world is still learning about. Korol handles it carefully. It matters, obviously it matters, but it’s not her whole identity.
“Ukrainian designers gave me everything,” she says quietly. “I don’t forget that.”
What keeps her working after eight years—when so many models burn out or disappear—is simple professionalism. Not the exciting part of fashion, not the glamorous part, but the part that actually determines who lasts. She shows up on time. She’s prepared. She knows how to move. She can read what a photographer needs before they articulate it. Hour twelve of a sixteen-hour shoot day, she’s still bringing energy. Designers request her specifically because they know what they’re getting.
“I mean, I love the work,” she says. “Every shoot is different. Every team brings something new. But also…” She pauses, choosing words. “You have to be professional. Talent only gets you so far. The rest is just… showing up and doing the job well.”
Eight years in, she could reasonably coast on established relationships, repeat bookings, the infrastructure she’s built across multiple continents. She’s not coasting though. LA castings, potential new campaigns, maintaining relationships with agencies in five countries, still answering those DMs at weird hours. The mentorship thing seems to be growing organically—more messages, more questions, more young models looking for real guidance.
For now she’s focused on the work. The next shoot, the next casting, the next market to crack. But somewhere in Ukraine right now, a nineteen-year-old girl is reading Toma’s advice in her DMs and thinking: okay, maybe I can actually do this.
Her phone buzzes again. Another message, another question. She picks it up and starts typing.
That’s probably worth more than any campaign.
Toma Korol is represented by L-Models (Ukraine), UNO (Spain), Women360 (France), The Agency (Milan), Ace Models (Greece), and The Wonders (Sweden), Elite Model Management (LA, NYC, Miami), MC2 (Israel), Brooks (Netherlands).
