La Vie En Rose

Coeur De Pirate - Comme Des Enfants

My blackberry sat in the middle of the living room table. With my hands tightly knotted in my lap, I starred at my phone in silence.

“Gigi, he’ll understand.” Sharon assured me. “He’ll understand why this is so important for your career.”

“You made the right choice, G.” Alma pipped up. “When will Karl Lagerfeld ever invite you to freaking France again?”

Sharon and Alma were sitting opposite of me. After calling Sharon and telling her the news, she came over to the apartment quicker than a prey being chased by a cheetah. Sharon and Alma couldn’t stop saying how big this was and believe me, I was fully aware. This was a one in a lifetime opportunity and I knew if I didn’t take up this offer, my future will go no where. So it was decided. I would go to Paris and stay for a week.

Making that decision was easy. It was telling John about it that was making me nervous. Would he be mad at me? Upset? Disappointed that I made other plans the week he was in New York? I didn’t want to know how he felt about it but I had to call him.

I finally made a move for my phone. I stood up and clicked through my phone. “He’s going to hate me for this.”

I grudgingly walked into my bedroom with my phone pressed against my ear. My heart started pounding loudly against my chest as the other line began to ring. I gulped when the third ring stopped abruptly.

“I swear we have some sort of telekinesis going on.” He said immediately. “I literally just picked up my phone to call you!”

I smiled nervously, sitting on the end of my bed. “We’re finally on the same brainwave. About time to!”

He laughed at my obviously lame joke. “Babe, I miss you so much and it’s only been what? Four days? I’m flimsy, I know.”

Then you’re most definitely not going to like what I have to tell you, I thought. Instead, I responded with, “I miss you too.”

I was impressed with how quick John picked up on my bad vibes. I practically heard the smile on his face drop before he asked. “Is everything alright, Gigi?”

“Well...” I hesitated as I started picking at the nails on my free hand. “I have some good news and bad news.”

“Uh oh. Lets here the good news then.”

I let out a huge sigh before recounting the whole thing with Karl Lagerfeld e-mailing me an invitation to Paris fashion week. John’s reaction took me by surprise.

“WHAT!?” He yelled loudly. “Gigi, that’s fantastic! Holy shit! You have to do it. You’re going right? Did you respond to the e-mail him back yet? Did you accept?”

His over abundance of questions took me completely off guard. “U-Uh not yet...”

“Well, what’s stopping you?”

I bit down on my bottom lip hard, staying silent. My heart was racing and pounding so loud, I was sure John could hear it.

“Gigi...” He spoke again, his once ecstatic voice suddenly sobered. If I wasn’t mistaken, John caught onto why I was being so quiet. “When is fashion week in France?”

I frowned while I spoke. “The same week you’re here.”

No response. I swear it was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. I was almost convinced that he hung up.

“John?”

“You have to do it.”

“Are you sur-”

He quickly cut me off. “Am I sure? Of COURSE I’m sure! This is your thing, Gigi. This is your passion. I don’t wanna stand in the way.”

“You’re not standing in the way!” I argued. “I just don’t know when I’ll see you again. Don’t you have another tour right after this one?”

“Yeah but whats another couple of months, right?” He tried making a joke. I couldn’t muster up enough energy to laugh. It was safe to say I was a little bummed.

“Look, we’ll figure something out”He assured me. “Yeah, it sucks we won’t see each other but you have to do it. I’m gonna play the role of a supportive boyfriend and force you to do this. And if you don’t, I will be very, very upset with you.”

That made me crack a small smile. “John, why are you so good to me?”

“Girl, please!” He made ‘pssh’ sound. I could hear someone calling John’s name. “Hey, pretty lady, I have to go. We’re about to play and I have to warm up my voice.”

“Alright.” I responded. “Good luck with tonight.”

When we both hung up, I sighed with relief. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders, knowing John understood why I had to go to Paris. Not seeing John for an extra couple of months would be a sacrifice I would unfortunately have to make.



Fame.

The word has been thrown around quite frequently these past couple of weeks. I never really thought about fame, nor did I really care for it. I didn’t thrive for it like most girls who desperately wanted to make it into the fashion industry. But fame was to be expected if one wanted to be successful. Well, thats what Sharon kept telling me, anyways.

I was finally on my way to JFK airport with Sharon by my side. She insisted on coming with me since this was my first time experiencing Fashion week. Truthfully, I was beyond thankful that she was coming with me to France. I would of been a lost puppy without her by my side.

When the taxi pulled up to the airport, I stuffed my phone into my bag and began unbuckling my seatbelt but stopped momentarily when Sharon cursed under her breathe while peering out the window.

I tried to look past her, to see what she was looking at. “Whats wrong?”

“Paparazzi. They caught on a little quicker than I hoped for.” Sharon said.

“Paparazzi?” I gave her a quizzical look. Why on earth was she bringing up paparazzi?
“Gigi, listen to me carefully,” Sharon started as she shoved cash into the taxi cab driver’s hand. “We get out of the car, you give them a sweet smile and we walk into the airport.”

Before I could even ask her what on EARTH she was talking about, she shot out of the car. I scrambled out of my seatbelt and followed suit, completely oblivious to what she was rambling about. Several moments later, I was blinded.

Four middle-aged men with large, expensive cameras started taking pictures of me as I stumbled out of the car. I squinted as the flashes went off fairly close to my face. The four camera men started to attract attention from on-lookers around us, now curious about why they were taking my picture.

“Alright, alright.” Sharon shooed them off. “Thats enough, you got your pictures. Go bother some other celebrity!”

Sharon grabbed her duffel bag and had the handle of my suitcase in her free hand, dragging it towards the ‘DEPARTURES’ entrance. I had to quicken my pace to catch up with her.

“Sharon, what just...what just happened!?” I was still in shock. Getting my picture taken by the paparazzi was the last thing I was expecting when I got out of the cab. I think my flip flops, blue skinny jeans and loose tunic shirt practically screamed how unprepared I was. “I mean, how did they know who I was?”

Sharon handed our passports over to the British Airways attendant behind the desk before turning to me. “This whole thing with Karl Lagerfeld is causing quite a stir, G. The head designer of Chanel doesn’t exactly invite american designers to Paris to see his show. Let alone, a college student. This is a big deal to magazines, fashion blogs and online gossiping sites.”

“Wow.” My mouth was slightly open, still mesmerized by what just happened. I could feel my cheeks burning with excitement. I was suddenly significant in the fashion world. People were finally interested in who I was and what I was doing. It was such a liberating feeling!

“That back there,” Sharon pointed behind her,towards the sliding glass doors. “that’s only the beginning. Wait until you get to Paris.”

And boy, was Sharon right. When we landed in Paris that following morning, there were seven photographers waiting outside the sliding doors for me. Luckily, I was a little more prepared this time by applying some eyeliner and brushing my hair out of the knotted bun it was in earlier. One of Karl Lagerfeld’s assistants & driver navigated us past the paparazzi and towards the black limo that awaited us. My cheeks were tinged with the color pink as my excitement grew. I’ve never been in a limo in my life. Not even for prom. I felt like a princess!

The ride to the hotel was nothing like I have ever experienced. I had my face pushed up against the window of the limo as we drove through the beautiful city of Paris. My breathe was caught in my throat when the Eiffel Tower came into view. The morning sun was shining brightly behind it, making it look even more dominant. Everything was so charming in the morning light. Cafes were opening their doors, beautiful French women were speeding past on their Vespas and men in Fedoras were nonchalantly reading the morning paper as they waited for the bus. I was in heaven.

Once we arrived at the hotel, a chauffeur took our suite-cases in while the assistant, who’s name is ‘Alice’, read off my schedule for the week while handing a copy to Sharon.

“You both must be exhausted.” Alice smiled as she lead us to the elevator. “Your suite is on the tenth floor. Karl has invited you to his house for tea this afternoon. I’ll make sure Pierre, your personal driver for the week, is waiting outside at approximately four o’clock.” The gold elevator doors binged open and she ushered us in. She pressed the ’10’ button and stepped out of the elevator. Before the doors closed, she gave us a huge grin. “Welcome to Paris.”