Lady Jean Campbell holds many titles. There’s muse, to Chanel’s new creative director, Matthieu Blazy; best friend, to fashion folk like Georgia May Jagger and Cora Corré; model (she began her career at Burberry); and brand ambassador, for Carolina Herrera. Then there’s the ‘Lady’ at the front of her name, which isn’t a gag—she’s an actual descendant of British aristocrats, the kind they sing about in Hamilton. But for a good chunk of Campbell’s adult life, the 27-year-old quips that she is neither a model nor a puzzle piece in the road to Buckingham Palace. “The only thing I actually am,” she says, “is someone trying to make sense of pain.”
The London native isn’t making a goth-girl joke. After a freak accident as a child, Campbell was diagnosed with a genetic disorder that causes her bones to misalign in her body, creating a prolonged and debilitating “owww” that has stopped Campbell from walking or even sitting, and has led to intense operations followed by months of slow, jagged recovery. “If I didn’t talk about it,” Campbell says in a quaint London cafe, the kind of place where the china doesn’t match on purpose, “I actually think I would have died.” That’s how Campbell explains the genesis of her podcast, I’m Fine, which is based on her own experiences with chronic pain, isolation, and a medical industry that refused to believe she was anything but “stressed out.” (Really, her pelvis was essentially crumbling beneath her muscles, which had detached from her bones.)
In the beginning, Campbell says, “I thought I was being dramatic and should just ‘toughen up,’ because I had nothing to complain about.” She was, after all, the triple threat of blonde, thin, and descended from the people who commissioned William Shakespeare’s plays. “I can say very openly that I’m extremely privileged. I’m also lucky in that I genuinely love my life. So if I can admit that and still say, ‘Also, I am in a deep amount of pain, and these things can be true at once, not just for me but for anyone,’ my hope is that it creates a lot of empathy and nuance. Truly, nobody is alone when it comes to chronic pain.”
Indeed, according to a 2023 study by the CDC, over 25% of American women report experiencing chronic pain, defined as “a debilitating condition that affects work, life, and daily activities” for three consecutive months or more. The Department of Health and Human Services estimates that over 9% of American women have a severe and debilitating form of the ailment, but many experts believe that because women’s medical issues are generally under-researched, that number could be much higher. As artist and disability advocate Emm Roy put it in her poem, The First Step, “Telling me there is no problem won’t solve the problem.” Campbell is hopeful that her podcast and its quest for better awareness just might.
After the catastrophic ski accident at age 12 that started her journey with chronic pain—she flew over 30 feet in the air and had to undergo major surgery to reattach her muscle tissue, becoming the youngest person to ever endure the daylong operation—Campbell had to learn to balance a flourishing modeling career with the new reality of her physical limitations. The crash exacerbated her latent hip dysplasia, a genetic condition where the leg and the torso don’t quite connect. “They basically broke my pelvis in three places to make it all fit,” Campbell says. “I’d just had my first big modeling job [with Burberry] and then all of a sudden, I was in a wheelchair…I couldn’t even walk.”
At first, Campbell appreciated the wild swings between modeling for brands like Louis Vuitton and Bottega Veneta, then shuttling to doctor’s consultation appointments and physical therapy. “Modeling provided additional chaos in my life, and at the time, that chaos was really needed. Having a job where you travel around, and you're relying on your body, was this amazing other world for me…the storytelling and the fantasy. Being exposed to that was amazing to have at the same time as my recovery.” But then Campbell would come home to London, have another 17-hour surgery, lie in bed for eight weeks, and spend six months on crutches. Inevitably, the shoots of agony in her legs and pelvic floor would come back, sometimes even harder than before. “The truth was, the issues with my body were getting worse.” Doctors noticed deformities in her joints. They suggested the Grey’s Anatomy equivalent of a home renovation show: eight more operations to break the tops of her legs, followed by the reshaping of her entire pelvic and hip systems.
There is an Alanis Morrissette-level irony to winning the genetic lottery as a model and an aristocrat while suffering from a rare anomaly that robs the body of both options and peace. Like 40% of all women with chronic pain, Campbell fell into a period of deep anger and depression. “Also shame,” she adds, smiling wryly. “Don’t forget the shame! I mean, who was I to complain? Oh, poor me, I can’t do the Bottega show, you know? I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening.” That damned-if-you-do feeling was made worse by the fashion industry’s demand that its denizens appear perpetually available and insanely popular at the same time. “You never want to appear ‘not fun’ or ‘unable,’ because fashion is about aspiration,” she says. “There was no room for this idea of, ‘Actually, I’m not okay.’”
Campbell considered the advice of her doctors, family, agents, and creative mentors like designer Nicolas Ghesquière and author Camilla Morton. Then she said “no” to any more surgeries (well, she’s a British royal, so she said “no, thank you, that’s very kind”) and set about solving the problem the world had hurled at her LV Legacy pumps: how to move forward in a body that was at odds with her goals. She tried guided meditation and hated it, then tried taking the exercises at her own pace through podcasts and reading. "It created a distance between my reality and what I think about my reality," she explains. "It's being able to let go of the fact that I'm uncomfortable and go with it." That philosophy extended to Reformer Pilates for strength training, followed by cold plunges and cold-water swimming, which had the added benefit of jump-starting endorphins in her nervous system, allowing her to “push my body without it breaking.”
After moving her body and her mind, it was time to try and move some other people, too. Having turned to podcasts while bedridden in recovery, Campbell was fascinated by the medium and daydreamed about creating a program about people with physical ailments. She called her friend with debilitating back pain, the photographer Jamie Hawkesworth, who agreed to record a sample episode. She also consulted with former model Natasha Silver Bell, now a mental health coach and addiction recovery specialist; Campbell says Bell was instrumental in giving her the final push to hit “record.”
“The question for me was, can you gain something from hearing other people's stories?” Campbell explains. “Their story might not be the same as yours, but will there be common ground that can allow you to relate?" Hearing Hawkesworth describe the way pain influenced everything from relationships and careers to creative work and self-worth, Campbell had a realization: “Pain is this invisible ink in everybody’s lives. We can’t see it from the outside, but it’s there, marking everyone, no matter their circumstances.” She resolved to make a podcast that served as a blacklight, illuminating the ways pain could hamper one’s routine but also accelerate the creative soul.
I’m Fine takes a low-fi approach to its high-stakes discussions. Campbell and subjects like model Abbey Lee and ADHD expert Dr. Aja Murray sit on a regular couch, a sunlit park bench, or a good old Zoom call and have focused, calm, encouraging conversations about their obstacles, strategies, and solutions related to chronic pain of all types, from illness and injury to heartbreak, creative ennui, and disordered eating. A typical episode might feature choreographer and movement director Holly Blakey calling professional failure her “guided route,” or Deepak Chopra explaining that acknowledging emotional pain in a neutral way is the first step toward releasing it.
Campbell is candid with her goals for the project: “Of course I want it to be big!” she exclaims, stretching her hands to the sky and laughing. “Big-big! I want this to be a resource for so many people, the way it’s been a resource for me. Everybody will deal with pain. It shouldn’t be a secret.”
At the end of our conversation, I asked Campbell if she was currently in pain, even just sitting across from me while sipping a matcha latte. “Yeah, I am,” she admitted. “But you’re not responsible for that. I would be in pain whether I was here talking to you or not, you know? We all have brains. We all have bodies. Learning that you never know what’s going on inside of someone else—that’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?” Campbell trailed off for a second. “Wait…are you in pain?”
I was, actually—exhausted and anxious from the brutal Sorting Hat that is Fashion Month; reckoning with a milestone birthday that made me feel, quite suddenly, well behind the curve of my peers; sensing a disconnect from my partner that would ultimately lead to the hardest breakup of my life. I’d been sleeping in such a tight ball that my left shoulder had begun to scream whenever I pulled on a coat. “See?” Campbell said, gentle but triumphant. “Everyone has these moments of, ‘I’m not fine, actually.’ But also, it’s beautiful out. No rain. Good drinks. We can sit here and hurt. And also, look: We’re fine.”
