Catwalk. Part 13

"By next Friday there will have been nearly a hundred shows."

"Wow." I shake my head. "I'm glad we're not going to all of them. It sounds exhausting."

"And if it makes you feel tired, think how the designers and their teams are feeling. Right now Dylan Marceau is probably on pins and needles."

"Maybe even literally," I add. "Those last-minute fixes and alterations."

"But Fas.h.i.+on Week will be over for Dylan Marceau as well as some other designers after tonight," Paige says. "Imagine what a relief it must be once your show is finished-and hopefully successful."

"Then you can just kick back and relax," I add, trying to play it up for the camera too.

"Of course, the price for this bit of relief is that designers like Dylan are the first ones out of the gates, while other designers still have up to eight days to see what the compet.i.tion is like. And, you can bet that there'll be a lot of last-minute changes being made in the next few days-once they see what the other designers have done."

"Really? Do they worry that much about what the others are doing?"

Paige laughs. "Count on it. Fas.h.i.+on is a tough world. Spies are crawling all over these shows."

"With cameras?"

"Absolutely." She points toward JJ now. "That's why you need a press pa.s.s to be packing tonight."

JJ grins.

"Packing?" I frown. "A camera's not quite the same as a gun, Paige."

"It might be like that for a fas.h.i.+on designer. Their signature designs are their livelihood. If someone steals a design or upstages a designer, they might as well be packing a gun."

I kind of laugh. "That seems overly dramatic to me. But I do know it's a serious business."

"And an enormous industry." Paige begins tossing out some shockingly large figures. "It's not just the billions of dollars a.s.sociated with the fas.h.i.+on industry-it represents a lot of jobs as well. Like you and me." She smiles. "And we take that seriously."

When we arrive at Bryant Park, it looks like a circus. The big tent is lit up and people and press are milling all over the place. JJ follows us with the camera as we make our way through the crowd. And when Paige spots someone with any kind of celebrity, she pauses to say h.e.l.lo-and if they're willing, she does a quick chat as JJ films.

Finally we are seated inside the tent. Front row! JJ is in the back with the rest of the press. For once, I'm not longing to be back there with them. Tonight I'm enjoying this. Tonight I'm perfectly happy being a fas.h.i.+onista sitting front row on the first night of Fas.h.i.+on Week.

Dylan's show begins with Taylor Mitch.e.l.l striding out in a brown velvet ensemble of fitted pants and a gorgeous jacket. At the end of the runway, she gracefully removes the flowing jacket to reveal a gold satin blouse beneath. The belt, accessories, boots-all is perfection. And the crowd shows their approval with applause. Model after model comes out, quickly making her way up and down the runway, never missing a beat. And each outfit is fantastic. Okay, maybe not clothes I'd be comfortable in, but not over-the-top either. And I've learned enough about design to know that runway fas.h.i.+on is not the same as off-the-rack fas.h.i.+on. These clothes are a dramatized exaggeration of what will be available to retailers soon, but even still, as I watch this show I'm thinking Dylan Marceau might be my favorite designer. Sure, some of his outfits, like the peac.o.c.k c.o.c.ktail dress with feathers everywhere, are a little weird, but a lot of them could be fun to wear. All in all, I can only a.s.sume that his show is a success. When he finally emerges, to thundering applause, walking the runway with Taylor at his side, it's obvious that he's pleased.

Paige manages to get some of the models, including Taylor, in front of the camera as she discusses their outfits. I mostly just watch, wondering how my sister manages to come up with so many questions and comments without ever sounding redundant.

"Okay," she says to JJ. "I think we've got enough, don't you?"

He nods and lowers his camera. "Unless you want me to come with you to the after party."

Paige just laughs. "No, thank you."

"Then I'll head outside and see what kind of candid spots I can catch."

"Great idea."

"And I told Fran I'd meet up with her at the salon," he adds. "She thought she might be able to get a press pa.s.s."

The after party is at a nearby hotel, but when I call for our town car, the driver tells me that traffic is too jammed to get through. "It'll be at least an hour to get in," he explains, "and it could be another hour to get you to the hotel." I ask him to hold, then relay this to Paige.

"Two hours to go like eight blocks?"

I just nod.

She frowns. "I guess we'll just have to hoof it."

I look down at my red Pradas, which are already starting to make my feet ache. I cannot imagine walking eight New York blocks right now. "Are you sure?"

"What else can we do?"

"A cab?" I nod over to where a number of cabs are lined up.

"Those are either engaged or waiting. And even if we got one, they would be stuck in traffic too."

I shake my head. "Next time I'm bringing some walking shoes to change into."

"That's not a bad idea. Well, unless a camera catches us. That wouldn't be too pretty." Paige points toward 42nd Street. "That way." Street. "That way."

We've only gone a block and I know I won't make it in these shoes. I'm about to beg Paige to call for our town car even if it does mean an hour-long wait, but then I see a street vendor who is selling, among other things, rubber flip-flops. I practically run to him, opening my purse and happily plunking down fifteen dollars for footwear that's probably worth two bucks. Paige laughs at me as I do a quick shoe switch. But she's not laughing seven blocks later when she starts complaining that her feet are now screaming at her.

It's nearly nine o'clock when we make it to the hotel, but Paige doesn't want to go up to the party yet. "It's probably barely even started," she tells me.

"I don't care," I protest. "I just want to sit down and put my feet up."

"Let's go use the restroom, freshen up, and get a coffee first." She frowns at my flip-flops. "And get rid of those things before someone sees us."

So I comply with Paige's wishes, but instead of dumping the flip-flops like Paige wants, I hide them behind the trash can just in case I need them later. We manage to kill more time drinking coffee and I even have the foresight to call and ask for the town car to pick us up at midnight, although Paige insists that's too early.

Finally it's 9:45 and Paige thinks it's okay to go up. As it turns out, she was right. The party does seem to be just beginning as people are trickling in. But Paige immediately finds someone and starts chatting and schmoozing-almost as if she thinks she's on camera still-while I try not to look too awkward as I stand beside her. We continue to move around, "working the room," as she says. And, although I'm tired and just want to kick back a little, I soon realize there aren't too many places left to sit. The few chairs available are near people significantly older than I am, so I know I'll look like a serious party p.o.o.per if I join them.

It doesn't take long to figure out that this party is mostly about being seen. I notice there are a few cameras here and I wonder why we didn't have JJ come too. After an hour or so, Dylan spots us and waves. Then, to my surprise, he comes right over. He takes Paige's hands in his and they exchange air kisses as she congratulates him on his show. And then, to my huge relief, he invites us to join him at his table, where there are chairs. chairs.

Champagne is flowing and I don't throw a hissy fit when Paige accepts a gla.s.s. And to show I'm a good sport, I accept a gla.s.s too. But I mostly just pretend to sip it. I really don't like the taste anyway.

"Hey, everyone," says Taylor Mitch.e.l.l as she and two other beautiful girls come to our table. "Room for more?"

"Always for you girls," Dylan tells her. Then he waves to one of the waiters, asking him to round up three more chairs.

"This is my best friend, DJ," Taylor says as they sit down with us. "Her grandmother is Katherine Carter-"

"You're Katherine Carter's granddaughter!" Paige exclaims as she shakes DJ's hand. "You're a professional model too, right?"

DJ kind of shrugs. "Not really. I mean, I've done some work, but I'm mostly a student now."

"We're trying to talk her into coming back to New York this summer," Taylor says. "She has no problem finding work."

"And you don't want to do that?" Paige looks shocked.

DJ looks uncomfortable now, like this isn't really her thing. I think maybe I can relate to this girl. Then Taylor introduces us to her roommate, Eliza Wilton.

"And you're a model too." Paige smiles at her.

"I am for now," Eliza says lightly. "I hear you girls are going to stay with us for a day or two after Fas.h.i.+on Week."

Paige talks a bit about our show now and what she'd like to accomplish when we're at their apartment. "Kind of a day in the life of a model sort of thing," she says finally. And then they're all talking about Dylan's brilliant show tonight and congratulating him on his fall lineup. I realize that DJ, who's sitting next to me, doesn't seem to be fully engaged in this conversation. Of course, I'm not either.

"So, let me guess," I say to her. "You're not as into fas.h.i.+on as Taylor and Eliza?"

She laughs. "Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe it's just that I can relate."

She looks curiously at me. "You're not into it either? What about your TV show?"

I shake my head. "I'm doing that for my sister's sake. Anyway, mostly I signed on to be the camera girl." I make a face. "That was the producer's idea. A way to get both of us on the show. A sister act, you know."

"Very clever."

"The truth is I'm really much more interested in photography." Then I tell her about UCLA and how it was hard to give it up in exchange for the show.

"That's exactly how I feel about school. Taylor didn't want me to leave New York last fall, but by the end of summer I was so sick of fas.h.i.+on and modeling, I couldn't wait to get back to a normal life."

"That's how I feel a lot of the time. But I have to admit I'm getting some good experience. I even got to shoot all the footage when we did Dylan's studio. It was pretty fun."

DJ and I talk some more and I learn that she attends a small college in Connecticut and that she has a boyfriend. I also learn that both she and Taylor are Christians, and can't help but be a little stunned.

"That surprises you?" she asks.

"Well, I just didn't expect to discover too many believers in the fas.h.i.+on industry."

"That's kind of true. But Taylor is sincere in her faith. And I think she's making an impression. She'll talk to anyone about G.o.d and most of the time, people listen. It's really cool."

I nod. "Definitely."

We continue to talk and I realize that I really like this girl. She's grounded and smart and, like me, she takes her faith seriously. Finally, the party seems to be winding down and Taylor and her friends are getting ready to leave, which I use as a cue to get Paige to go too.

"Are you going to be at Taylor's when we come to stay?" Paige asks DJ as we're going down the elevator together.

"No, I'll be back at school."

"I could barely talk her into coming for Dylan's show," Taylor admits. "In fact, I had to get her grandmother involved."

DJ laughs. "Yes, Taylor enticed my grandmother to come for the Ralph Lauren show tomorrow, then used that to get me to commit to come too."

"So, we'll see you tomorrow then," Paige says as we go into the lobby.

"Grandmother and I will be there," DJ promises. "Front row seats."

"Mrs. Carter is an old friend of Ralph Lauren," Eliza explains.

"Mrs. Carter is an old friend of almost anyone in the fas.h.i.+on industry," Taylor adds. "Well, unless they're too new. Although, Dylan is new and she somehow connected with him."

"Well, I would love to meet Mrs. Carter," Paige says. "Do you think she'd be willing to be on our show?"

DJ laughs. "Are you kidding?"

Taylor nods. "Oh, yeah, you won't have to twist her arm much."

"And the old girl can tell some stories," Eliza adds.

So we part ways, and to my relief our town car has made it through traffic and is outside waiting for us. And although the streets are still clogged with taxis and limos and town cars, we manage to make it to our hotel before one. And, really, the after party turned out to be better than expected-and getting to know Taylor and DJ was the best part.

Chapter 15.

The Ralph Lauren show is also in the tent, but this time it's an afternoon show. This time I think to pack a pair of walking shoes in my oversized bag. And since it's an afternoon event-with no after party-we dress a bit more casually. At least I do, wearing pants today. Paige still looks like she could be meeting the queen in a sleek navy dress and matching coat along with navy and white spectator pumps-all Prada. But unless there's a beach or a picnic involved, Paige rarely does casual. but this time it's an afternoon show. This time I think to pack a pair of walking shoes in my oversized bag. And since it's an afternoon event-with no after party-we dress a bit more casually. At least I do, wearing pants today. Paige still looks like she could be meeting the queen in a sleek navy dress and matching coat along with navy and white spectator pumps-all Prada. But unless there's a beach or a picnic involved, Paige rarely does casual.

After the show, which is very good, Fran gets an idea. "Let's invite Mrs. Carter and anyone else who's free to come to lunch with us," she suggests. Everyone is milling around now, chatting and doing closer inspections of the models' outfits. Fran nods to Paige as she's reaching for her phone. "I'll see what I can set up while you girls go talk to Mrs. Carter and her granddaughter."

Paige and I work our way through the crowd to where Mrs. Carter, a white-haired woman dressed impeccably in a pale blue suit with a striped pastel scarf draped around her neck, seems to be holding court with a small group of fas.h.i.+on freaks. Okay, I'm trying not to think in such negative terms, but it does get overwhelming.

As she's talking, Mrs. Carter seems to notice Paige and smiles directly at her, then waves us to come over and join her. DJ introduced us before the show, and I could tell Mrs. Carter was interested in our TV series.

"Paige Forrester," Mrs. Carter calls out, "come over here, darling. You and your sister. I'd like you to meet some friends." And just like that, we're being introduced to the current editor-in-chief of Couture Couture and a couple of editors from other fas.h.i.+on magazines. I'm thinking this would've been a great scene to include in our show and that it's too bad we didn't have a press pa.s.s to allow some of our crew in here. Or even me with my camera. But at least JJ is outside, waiting for us. Paige kept him busy for much of the morning doing spots with anyone who seemed interested in getting face time on TV. and a couple of editors from other fas.h.i.+on magazines. I'm thinking this would've been a great scene to include in our show and that it's too bad we didn't have a press pa.s.s to allow some of our crew in here. Or even me with my camera. But at least JJ is outside, waiting for us. Paige kept him busy for much of the morning doing spots with anyone who seemed interested in getting face time on TV.

"I know this is very last minute," Paige jumps in after the editors have moved along. "But we wondered if you and DJ might like to join us for lunch, Mrs. Carter."

"That sounds delightful," she tells her. "I already made a reservation at our hotel, but I asked for a large table just in case I ran into friends today. I'd be happy to share it if that works for you." Then she tells us the name of the hotel-it's the same one we're staying in.

"You're welcome to ride with us," Paige offers, "but our camera guy will be along too. So, unless you're opposed to being on our show, there could be some filming."

Mrs. Carter laughs. "Well, if you can stand to have my old face on your show, I'm happy to oblige."

"I have so many questions for you," Paige bubbles. "You're such a fas.h.i.+on icon and you know everything and everybody."

Mrs. Carter waves her hand, but I suspect she's flattered. DJ actually winks at me, as if to indicate that her grandmother is eating this up. And before long we're loaded into the limo, and JJ is sitting across from Paige and Mrs. Carter as they have what seems like just a casual and candid conversation while they're leaving the Ralph Lauren show.

Paige asks the standard questions about Mrs. Carter's background, her years as a professional model, and her position as editor-in-chief at Couture. Couture.

"Yes, I had thought I was retired," Mrs. Carter says as she reaches for her granddaughter's hand. "But then Desiree's-I mean DJ's, she doesn't really like being called Desiree...As I was saying, DJ's mother was killed in a car accident and DJ came to live with me. I saw this gorgeous young girl and I knew that she had real model potential. Not just because she is tall and pretty, but she has the bone structure and, when she stands up straight, the posture and stance. And I knew this girl could really be something."