CHAPTER573
“Oh my god, this is awesome… I cannot wait until mine in a month!!” Christian is standing in the curtains to the main stage, peeking out excitedly, bouncing on his toes, as my flow of models walk in and out, tended to by the dressers. I’m tweaking them the second they walk out to the pre-stage area, adjusting them, running a dust wand over and smoothing them out before okaying them. A pin cushion on my wrist and a mouthful of bobby pins for last second tailoring on the figures of the models who are sashaying in an orderly line out onto the raised catwalk. Music blaring from back here and the muffled voice of the commentator as he occasionally talks over it.
The nerves are still here but being focused on task, crazily busy and dealing with what I am doing so it all runs smoothly, I’ve not got a second to even think or feel anything much. My head is blank to everything but my designs and my responsibilities to pull my slot off without a hitch.
I realize that if Arry was here he would have been pointless anyway, standing pretty much where Christian is with a lot less enthusiasm and watching my string of outfits go out and be showcased. He’s supportive, but he doesn’t have the same love of fashion as I do, or Christian does. At best, Arry is a great dresser, he likes to look good, but he isn’t that interested in clothes in general or shopping for them and most of the time I pick his clothes for him nowadays. I guess part of me kind of is letting up on him a little about his lack of absence, but I’m still hurt that he let me down. He broke a promise, something he rarely does and when I add it on top of the shit few months we have been having together, it feels bigger than life.
I tuck and pleat in the waist of the next model; she’s a huge six foot in heels and crazily thin with almost milk white skin and I kind of wonder at the beauty industry standard of model. To me she is skeletal and pale and not all that beautiful; too many harsh bones sticking out and my clothes would look a hell of a lot better on some real curves and real women. I never made them to hang on corpses.
“Sophie!!!!! … I can see Nadine Hellegar from Runway’s Finest, in the front aisle, she keeps taking pictures with her cell. She is taking notes. Gurlllll!! I think you’re onto a winner.” Christian is crazily hyper and excited, and I have to admit that it’s infectious, and I’m really glad he’s here with me. He has a way of lifting my mood and making me feel less devastated. He was one of my reasons for keeping upbeat and sane when Arry and I parted ways a couple years ago, and times like this remind me of how I got through it. Why being here has made me feel so alone this past year. I needed my friends as much as I need Arry.
I try not to let that little bit of information about Nadine knock me off balance, gawp at how important her magazine is as I pat my model on the back and nod for her to go. I pin the fabric in place on the next one, solely just concentrating on getting through this. My insides tying themselves in knots and thankfully having my mouth full of pins means no one expects a response. I don’t think I could speak if I wanted to.
Christian is keeping me focused and at least with him here I won’t have to face Claude alone afterwards. He keeps perusing backstage and watching me from afar. It’s making the hair of my neck stand on edge and feel uneasy. I don’t get what his newfound interest in me is, but I’m betting it has a lot to do with the little scene I caught backstage in the storage walkway earlier.
He was arguing with Vivien in French and she tried to hug him, but he pushed her away, said something harshly and left her standing alone before walking off. She stood sobbing and calling after him, but he repeated something in a cruel tone and left her there. They never saw me, but it’s been playing in the back of my mind that maybe they have been sleeping together on the fly. It would explain her superior attitude towards everyone in class, the way she thinks she’s untouchable. She’s around twenty-two and he is well into his late forties or early fifties, even if he looks younger. I’m sure it crosses so many rules in the student teacher contract or whatever they abide by. I shake it out of my head and get back to what I am doing. Not my business nor my problem.
My models all look amazing and the beauty and hair team have done an astounding job of matching make up to my clothes. The hair styles are out of this world and everything is pulling together so nicely. I keep getting the flashes of cameras every time the curtain swings back slightly with every new girl coming off the left and again the nausea hits hard.
These pictures, the video and all the critic of every fashion guru sat in the two hundred strong audience will be all over the internet by midnight. This is an annual affair, and this could literally make or break me. That thought alone is enough to make my blood run cold and dizziness sweeps over me with force that almost knocks me off my heels with a wave of lightheadedness."
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