This week, an unexpected thing happened: the fashion industry seemed to grow a soul. In an email that leaked Monday, executive vice-president James Woodhouse instructed his staff at Condé Nast International that the company would no longer be working with “controversial” fashion photographer Terry Richardson. (Condé Nast US, a separate entity, severed ties with Richardson some years ago; he hasn’t shot for American Vogue since 2010.)

“Condé Nast would like to no longer work with the photographer Terry Richardson,” Woodhouse wrote. “Any shoots that have been commission[ed] or any shoots that have been completed but not yet published, should be killed and substituted with other material.”

Shortly thereafter, major fashion brands Valentino and Bulgari announced they, too, would like to no longer work with Richardson. More names are likely to follow. Of course, this didn’t happen in a vacuum.

The press coverage around Harvey Weinstein’s decades-long rampage of alleged sexual assault and coercion from his high perch in Hollywood has put a renewed spotlight on men who use their power and influence to violate people’s – often young women’s – boundaries and intimidate them into staying quiet.

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It’s put pressure on pretty much every industry to stop enabling these men’s misdeeds … either by straight up collaboration, or more often, by looking the other way because they generate revenue. It seems the potential liabilities of associating one’s brand with a powerful abuser’s are finally starting to outweigh the benefits.

As the person who first spoke publicly about a negative encounter with Richardson in 2010 after six years of embarrassed silence, I’m pleased that European magazines and luxury brands – two spaces not exactly known for their progressive gender politics – are finally moving to dissociate themselves from the infamous creep. (I’d say “alleged creep,” but Richardson has never disputed what happens in his studio, only whether or not meaningful consent is given for it.)

While he’s been shamed out of most women’s magazines in the US, he’s continued to make a luxurious living in advertising, and I was starting to wonder if Richardson would ever see any material consequences for his actions. I am more sure now than I used to be that he will.

Of course, I’m not naive enough to think these brands suddenly care about the human rights of models. After all, seven years have passed since I spoke out. It should not have taken this long.

But I’ve never looked to captains of industry – let alone one as out of touch and regressive as fashion – to save us. Indeed, the gradual fall of Richardson’s star is a testament to the power of the enlightened masses to impose change from the ground up.

It was never my goal to see Richardson’s career destroyed. In telling my story, all I wanted was for him to re-evaluate his behavior and, most importantly, change it. (I also wanted to warn my fellow women, although the onus to stop harassment should not be on us.)

Even if he were as clueless as he pretends to be about how coercion works, a decent human being would, upon discovering his “collaborators” were coming away with signs of PTSD, ask what he could do differently that might prevent these negative outcomes. He would not go on defensive tirades about how art is meant to be challenging, or how everyone involved was operating on fully informed, affirmative consent.

Unfortunately, Richardson has made it clear he’s not interested in having this conversation. Given that, we have only one choice: to exert whatever limited power we have to get people like him out of positions where they can do harm. For me, that power turned out to be my voice. I’ll probably have to use it for the rest of my life, but it will be a nice surprise if I can stop sooner.

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