Being Audrey Hepburn

In order to comfort myself and get going, I imagined bravely talking to Isak as if my opinion mattered. I opened up the blog page and began writing my first full entry.

“Standing pigeon-toed in a new dress and posing with your head tilted at a 45 degree angle doesn’t hack it anymore,” I wrote. “If you want to find the heart of fashion, you need to start small—one detail at a time, one stitch followed by the next. It’s as much about removing the clutter as finding the next fashion design.”

I took a deep breath to read and reread what I had written. Satisfied, I continued.

“The film director Steven Soderbergh once said, The making of any art is just problem solving. You have to eliminate the versions that aren’t any good. Then you see what you have left.” I wasn’t sure where I had heard that quote, but at least I wasn’t quoting Chanel, like every other fashion blog.

“Fashion is certainly more than dressing your Barbie. It’s one choice at a time, step by step.” I thought for a moment before continuing.

“A button, a shoe, a glove that fits just right—that’s what this blog will be about. It’s about examining fashion from the ground up, detail by detail, appreciating the art and craftsmanship that goes into perfecting each item. Little by little, I’ll build from there to show you, my dear reader, that anyone can go from nothing to something and sustain your soul in all shades of limelight.”

Phew, it almost sounded pithy.

Laying out Jess’s modified Dior as well as a few items from Nan’s treasure trove, I clicked my little digital camera, photographing a few of the wonderful buttons Jess had added, the hem she had modified, the corner of the collar, the wonderful hand stitching inside.

I shot everything out against white, so that the photo frame was invisible on the blog page. I wanted just the bare, stark essentials. I ended with another quote I remembered from that fashion neophyte, Wi

“Sometimes, the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”

I took a deep breath and went back and double-checked everything. Filling in the “about me” link, I wrote:

Hello. Starting a new blog is like starting a relationship. In the begi

This was the begi

19

Crashing another event at the Met was not our first choice. It was only because we couldn’t find anything else on the social calendar that we had any chance of getting into. Jess was still worried about Mr. Myers. There was nothing else going on in the museum that night, so the chances were slim that he’d show at an event like this. Mr. Myers wasn’t exactly a socialite.

Save the Cheetah Night was the name of the event. I hadn’t seen too many cheetahs lately, so they were definitely scarce. Although poverty also seemed like a worthy cause, I’d read there was compassion fatigue in the “what jewels should I wear tonight” set, so I guessed cheetahs were a tad easier to feel sorry for.

I was wearing the sky-blue silk taffeta gown, the very first one we’d found in Nan’s storage unit. Jess replaced a limp satin ribbon sash with a funky hand-beaded band and thi

Slipping through a service entrance near the cafeteria, I sidestepped the beefy Men in Black security guys and snuck into the main gala without being noticed.

The anxious little beast in my belly was squirming around like crazy. Everywhere, I saw security cameras and guards. What if my presence jogged the memory of one of the security people or gave some detective the last clue he or she needed to put the whole escapade together? I took deep breaths.

Adam Levine from Maroon 5, who I consider a total sex god, was standing with a reporter and photographer from Us Weekly. The reporter was actually waiting for Adam and a couple other guys from the group to pose for a picture, so I just moseyed right up to them.

Seriously. I think that Nan’s taffeta gown gave me superpowers or something. Just before the photographer snapped the picture, I jumped in between them as if I’d started the freaking band myself. Adam sort of cracked up, posing with a fu

“Wonderful, darling,” I said in my best Audrey voice as I twirled to face Adam, my back to the reporter before he could ask my name. I was shaking, but I cha

“And how is the secret album coming along?” I whispered.

He seemed taken by surprise, quite clearly wondering who the hell I was and how I knew that he was working on a new album—just a total lame guess—aren’t they all working on one?

“Insane, actually, we just finished.”

“Lovely, can’t wait to hear it,” I said, smiling at the other band members as I sauntered off, my body tingling from my toes to my updo with a brazen sort of confidence I’d never felt before.

I couldn’t believe it, little me, a nobody from South End mingling with fancy-schmancy rock and rollers. Who’d have thought? I spied Jess on the balcony with her camera—she gave me a thumbs-up.

Ah, confidence … I can do this, I thought, until someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“I know what you’re up to,” he said, and I wanted to die.

I turned slowly to give myself a few extra milliseconds to formulate an excuse or find a getaway.

He wore a sharply styled black leather jacket. His face was sort of familiar, but I didn’t know why. My eyes met his. His wry smile gave the impression he knew me. Was that a good smile or an evil one? I couldn’t tell. His lively brown eyes were inquisitive and striking against the backdrop of his tousled auburn hair, and he was holding a video camera.

“Excuse me, I don’t believe we’ve met?” I asked with false bravado.

“Not formally, but I’ve seen you before,” he said. “Where was it, do you know?”

Panicked, I sca

I went full-on Audrey to distract him. It was my only option.

“Darling, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure, which is unfortunate…” His burnished brown eyes co

“Unfortunate?” he asked.

Oh jeez, how was I going to finish that sentence? What was I even trying to say? He was just a nosy cameraman … I had to get out of there.

“It’s unfortunate because I’m late to meet someone,” I said, sca

“Wait,” he said, thrusting his hand in my direction. “Chase Reynold, Lux TV.” I smiled and offered my hand reluctantly.

“So nice to meet you, Chase Reynold, Lux TV,” I said. “Fu

“Actually it’s just my production company. I had to put something on the camera. I’m a fashion shooter. I feed footage to Web sites, cover Fashion Week, parties, that kind of thing. Here’s my card in case you want more, uh, coverage.” He gave a quick glance up at the balcony where Jess was standing. She gave me a quizzical look, wondering what was going on.

“Well, that’s very interesting, but I really must be going.”

He laughed. “I’ve seen this before,” he said. “Always making an entrance, then slipping away. Trying to control your image.”