Where I'm almost burnt out
— Kasla, what is this pose, let's start from the beginning, — Madame Lynette has been nervous since the morning, which makes everyone else nervous too. All the models are already exhausted from her orders; Sarah, for example, has tried on nearly every outfit and seems to have walked down the runway in them a hundred times, until this relentless woman finally settled on her look. Now Visconti has plopped down in the chair next to me, sipping cold lemonade through a straw. But the most was taken from Kasla. The girl silently went to the beginning of the runway.
Ella and our stylists did a wonderful job; they adorned the dress and slightly hemmed it.
The main decoration of the evening fit the model perfectly, but her walk wasn't satisfactory for the Englishwoman.
— Darling, if you don't walk properly, I swear, I will throw myself out of the window. Kasla has been through God knows how many rounds already, her stiletto heels and the heavy dress have brought her to a near-death state.
Meanwhile, my phone was bothering me again. Why is it so hard to ignore this person?
I make a sharp turn at the loud noise behind me. Oh Merlin's Beard, Kasla is already lying on the runway holding her leg! And the dress... It ripped on both sides from the pressure.
— What happened, Kasla, get up, — this situation didn't even faze Madame Lynette! She was probably so worried that she couldn't even panic. — Ella, why did the dress tear?
— She twisted her ankle! She needs to be taken to the hospital, — I interrupt her while sitting next to the injured girl. Other models were also crowding around, trying to help.
— What hospital?! We have a show about to start! — she got really angry, but then calmly exhaled. — Okay, Elizabeth, take Kasla to the hospital; if she can’t open the show, we need to find a new model who fits the dress. This cold-blooded woman could drive anyone mad.
Sarah and I, who were simultaneously complaining about all this, helped Ella get the model into the car and returned back. Madame Lynette's expression had even changed during this time; it became... calmer?
— Everything's settled; you'll open the show instead of Kasla, — she said, looking at me, — this dress will fit you perfectly, especially since you need to come out anyway as one of the designers this season.
I looked at her with wide eyes, my eyebrows shooting up with each of her words. Seriously?! Me? Open the show? I was starting to panic wildly. Adelina, get a grip for heaven’s sake, this is just about opening a spring show in a luxurious dress.
— Why me? — I recalled the large number of talented girls, including Sarah herself. And yes, although she studied with me in the same department, she was a model, a very popular model. Because of that, we got tickets to every show she participated in. I had already said it—her connections were simply impressive.
— Because you and Kasla have the same type of look. Besides, where do you think we should find a model at the last second? You walk well in heels. Don't argue, — she was very determined. — I'll ask Vivienne to patch up the dress; you can be free.
As I left the hall, I immediately called a taxi to the café where Damiano works. I urgently needed support and a chance to unload all my emotional fireworks onto someone.
— I don’t understand why you’re so worried; this is such an honor, — Damiano simply doesn’t grasp the essence of the whole problem but is sincerely trying to calm me down, for which I am endlessly grateful.
— You don’t understand; just stepping onto the runway and introducing myself as a clothing designer is already too much for me, and here I have to open and close the show; it’s such a responsibility!
— Well, your whole life is responsible; just enjoy what you’re doing; you’re my fashion queen! — he gently patted me on the head.
— Is it really true?
This question disturbed me more than it seemed.
— You know what? Just go relax so that all these thoughts and doubts get lost by tomorrow. I wish I could come.
— As you say, boss. And don’t worry; I’ll tell you everything, — Damiano just smiled and continued making someone’s cocktail.
This day has come. Arriving at the venue where the show will take place, I was met at the entrance by Vivienne.
— Your place is over there, — she pointed to a chair with my name on it.
— Thank you, Vivienne, how much time do I have until the guests arrive?
— Exactly an hour and a half.
— Got it, — but she was already running to another girl.
I felt lost. My place had always been next to Madame Lynette; I was rather an observer in this theater; now I was in the spotlight. Hairstylists, makeup artists, even Miss Lombardi herself were swirling around me. This unusual feeling caused tingling in my chest and a slight headache. I sat for almost an hour with a book while they transformed me into a beauty. My Instagram was filled with several stories, and Patricia noticed for the first time:
— I hope you strut as beautifully as you look, — and for the first time in my memory, her face touched something like a smile. I began to get even more nervous; it was a pity that I couldn't drink a relaxant to ease the situation, so I asked for green tea with mint instead.
— Dear, just don’t fall down too, — Ella rushed to me, — Vivienne will check you to make sure the dress fits perfectly; I just came to give you a kiss and wish you luck. Oh! And one more thing. You know he’s been invited too?
Clarification wasn’t necessary; I knew who she was talking about.
— Damn, — I closed my eyes, my heart was pounding at hyper-speed, I paused for a moment wondering whether I might lose consciousness.
— He’s a celebrity and a partner. I think he has a reason to be here.
— I haven't seen him before.
— Because our shows used to coincide with others, and he became a partner only two years ago, — she kissed me on the cheek and ran to Madame Lynette.
Fifteen minutes later, I was already standing with the other models. The dress fit me perfectly, as if it had been tailored just for me. The time had come. My heart sank to my feet. I heard the voices of the guests and thought about how many celebrities and ambassadors must be there. Of course, a bunch of journalists and photographers. And her. My idol. Anna Wintour. The one I have always bowed to. The editor-in-chief of Vogue, a journalist, and a true goddess of fashion.
My moment has come.