Gigi Hadid is gorgeous, talented, and apparently now a member of New York City’s Very Relatable Rat Survivors Club. Seriously, Gigi? Welcome to the trenches where every New Yorker eventually learns they’re living in Ratatouille—minus the adorable chef mouse and all the French charm.
The 29-year-old model dropped this bombshell in a recent interview with Architectural Digest, casually revealing she had to renovate part of her chic NYC pad because, you guessed it, her outdoor space had turned into a rodent hangout spot. “We had a rat problem,” she admitted, proving that even supermodels are not immune to the furry scourge of the city. Honestly, the rats were probably just Instagramming their new digs with captions like, “Just moved into Gigi Hadid’s patio—blessed!”
Apparently, the original design of the outdoor space was practically rat luxury real estate. Imagine a bunch of rats on tiny lounge chairs sipping mimosas. Gigi, however, is ready to reclaim her turf. “That’s what I’m looking forward to,” she said, with the energy of someone who just hired a SWAT team to kick out rodents who overstayed their lease.
For now, Gigi splits her time between her renovated NYC home and her idyllic Pennsylvania farm (a place I assume rats don’t dare enter, out of respect). Her design vibe? “Eclectic industrial farmhouse.” Translation: It’s like if a Pinterest board came to life but had money.
The real star of her home? Her daughter Khai’s art room, which sounds like the wholesome Pinterest corner we all need. “There’s one wall she’s allowed to paint on,” Gigi explained, which is both adorable and a strategic move to protect the rest of the house from toddler Picasso-inspired chaos. The room has clay, shrinky-dinks (they still make those?!), and enough crafting supplies to make Martha Stewart jealous.
Gigi Hadid is a crafting queen, a home design visionary, and someone who understands that even a penthouse in New York can’t escape the humble rat. If nothing else, it’s comforting to know that somewhere, Gigi Hadid is just like the rest of us—running into her kitchen at 2 a.m., flipping on the lights, and whisper-screaming, “Not today, rodents. Not. Today.”
