OPPOSITES attract, or so I’m told. But unless a man with a predilection for book-burning and a deep-seated hatred of really nice trees makes my acquaintance,

I think my likeminded husband’s marital status is probably pretty secure.

Whether the perfect match or the imperfect mix, though, attraction in any direction is a strange old bird. We can sense it, feel it, even, at times, see it in glorious action, but understand it? Well, I, for one, am at its mercy there.

Nowadays, the law of attraction is big business. Instead of adhering to the Abdul school of thought though, the idea is that like attracts like – and I guess dislike makes its own problems. I’m no philosopher, but I’ve always been a great believer in sending out what you hope to one day find in your own mailbox. Fine, I’m an average believer but the theory is solid. I can’t say I’m sitting on a goldmine of karma but I hope all the wonderful people I’m lucky enough to have befriended in my life saw just a little of themselves in me. If being a decent person is all it takes to draw in the world’s great and good, surely that’s a secret worth shouting about. And recently, I was delighted to add to that tally a woman for whom attraction is both a career and an ethos – and it’s particularly easy to see why.

Currently based in a busy dance studio in Glasgow city centre, the Nicola Creen Modelling Academy is no run-of-the-mill modelling school. And its originality is in direct correlation to the energy and resolve of its founder, Nicola herself. From the first time I met the model citizen, as I waited in a cramped corridor listening to the sounds of Irish dancing shoes pounding the floors all around, I was impressed. With 12 students and their mothers and siblings bubbling over in eager anticipation of their next catwalk session, it wasn’t ideal that the venue was running late and standing space was already at a premium. But in she sashayed, all calm and solution, bringing the group together for an impromptu pep talk instead.

You could be forgiven for thinking this tall, buxom beauty with the bright smile and brighter outlook is one of the world’s golden girls. You know the type: lucky and privileged, breezing through life like her troubles have sails. But you only have to chat to Nicola, or any of the parents whose youngsters she has supported, to instantly recognise your mistake. Sure, she’s had a career full of glitz and all its glamour, as a model, presenter and media darling, and now has two great kids and her own successful business, but all that is icing on a cake baked of her own fair hands.

Clawing her way back from an adolescence blighted by relentless bullying and ostracism, which very nearly tore the joie out of her vivre, Nicola is now an example of the power of human spirit and sheer, pig-headed determination. I mean, it helps if your head is less pig, more pretty, but it’s hard to begrudge her even such obvious advantage. After a surprise win of the Miss Caledonia crown in 2012 – a pageant she entered at a friend’s behest – Nicola realised the mixed handbag of skills she had amassed was a tote worth teaching, and soon her academy was born. But while the professional make-up lessons plotted a typically upward course, the modelling classes took a 90 degree turn at the end of the runway and, on that initial visit to the academy, I witnessed its new direction for myself.

I’ll admit, I joined the programme that day without expectation, except of a bit of a laugh and some tips on keeping a book atop my bonce, but even as I introduced myself to the rest of the students, a group that put the angle into poise, I could already see the difference that was being made – and it was better than Botox. As each of the young people, whose ages ranged in my child-free mind from quite wee to nearly grown, stepped up to tell me their story, I tried not to show how moved I was. They spoke openly about their experiences of bullying, low self-esteem and anxiety, always ending with a smile as they described the new-found confidence that Nicola’s modelling classes had given them.

By the time we were all lined up in the studio, ready to practise our walks, I already felt part of something special. Mainly, I guess, because they made me feel part of it. I was only dipping into a six-week course and yet the girls had no issue with the new, two-decade older student in their midst. I was one of them, from the beginning, because that’s the kind of environment Nicola has created and the kind of young people her academy attracts.

I watched them, one by one, take to the floor to the cheers of their fellow models, posing elegantly then walking with their heads higher than should have been possible for some of their age and stature. The queue quickly dissolved in front of me and suddenly it was my turn. Everything Nicola had taught me fell from my head but the encouraging shouts from the sidelines urged me onwards, and I made it back with all my limbs still moving in the right order. Walking has never been so complicated.

I visited the class again before our graduation, to join in with some of the confidence-building exercises that the girls unanimously voted as the best part of the course. Mirror techniques, posing practice, and a discussion of the skills and qualities that our loved ones had identified as our best; listening and chiming in and applauding each other’s courage. Twelve of the most incredible young people, and here they were, supporting this fool with all their amazing big hearts.

Graduation swaggered around in a haze of lipstick and taffeta, and, as we dressed up in the anteroom of The Corinthian Club, my nerves rejoined the party. Upstairs, our families, friends and guests assembled to admire our finery, marvel at our struts, and mostly enjoy our progress. In the interim, the girls and their lovely mothers fed me, painted my face and rallied around with all the bustle of a Victorian tea party, so that when I suddenly had to take to that catwalk, my legs shaking so hard that my diagonal walking technique was almost obliterated, I knew that whatever happened, the experience had already been worth the effort.

So I walked. Hesitantly at first, then with the music soaring in the background and the enthusiasm of the audience urging me on. My smile as I posed for the camera was entirely genuine, from a place of pride that extended beyond myself to the young women I felt privileged to stand alongside. That pride burst its banks as Olivia gave an impassioned speech, Eva and Danielle sang their duet, and Ellena danced with such grace, and I cried a trail through my make-up. Later, as we accepted our certificates from a beaming Nicola, I reflected on my own assumptions about the modelling industry, about those that fill its shoes, and realised just how much lift those shoes can actually offer, with just the right standpoint beneath. Nicola provides that standpoint for all those who need it – and they walk tall.

I’m not sure I’ll ever understand attraction then or work out the laws it obeys. But if crossing catwalks with such incredible people has taught me anything, it’s that living any other way would surely be a crime.