Eleanor & Me

9 - Catching My Breath

9 - Catching My Breath

I've spent most of my time catching my breath, letting it go, turning my cheek for the sake of the show

We got into the lift and then into the car. The whole time, I felt Wilhelmina’s gaze on me, studying me and probably judging every single thing I did. What am I saying? Obviously judging everything I did!

I felt so uneasy. She intimidated with that black makeup on. I wonder if she had any idea. She seems to be the type of woman that can get you to cry and runaway. The type of woman that will leave you in the dust when she is done with you. I just hope to never get on her dark side.

But I also had the feeling that this woman was going to make my career.

We got into a high end salon. You could not really breathe in there. It had air conditioning and of those things to take out smoke- smoke extractors. But even that was not enough.

Hair extensions, sprays, conditioners, hair dyes, blow dryers, flat irons and many other things I just do not know the name of, were all over the place. Tons of women trying to get their hair to be a way it just cannot sat in the stylist’s chairs. Some turned around to stare at me, others just took a glance and then rolled their eyes at me and returned to their Glamour or Vogue magazine or to their Blackberry or Samsung Galaxy Three S or whatever.

I felt like a sheep between bears. Yes, that out of place.

Wilhelmina walked first, Richard second and I tried to keep up with them from behind. It turns out in this business people are always in a rush. Who would have guessed? Maybe that is why they are so skinny.

But Eleanor had warned me about all this. She said I would find tons of people that would be just the way Georgia and Jessica. I sighed, sad that people were like that. From the small town I am, everyone is nice to each other. We all knew each other and no one really had secrets. Except maybe that Fat Steve stole food from your plate every time he told you to turn around and see that thing that was behind you.

There was no such thing behind you. There was nothing behind you.

Oh, Fat Steve. I miss him.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Wilhelmina.

“Kid? Did you hear? Sit down,” she commanded annoyed. I nodded and sat down. A man in his early thirties, who had blonde highlights and really tight skinny jeans and a purple top, immediately got his hands into my hair.

“Oh my lord! Hon! Your hair is beautiful! It has so much life and volume and shape and-” He was cut off.

“Just get it done,” Wilhelmina snarled, getting a dirty glare from the hairstylist.

“Wilhelmina,” Richard scolded and cleared his throat. She rolled her eyes and took her phone. “Sorry, Manolo,” he said, talking to the hairstylist. Manolo?! Oh lord.

“Okay, Richard,” Manolo said, totally blowing off Wilhelmina. She was doing the same thing, just momentarily glancing at my hair. “Her hair is beautiful, so I’ll just cut the edges and give it layers to make it playful and sexy.” He turned to see me through the mirror. “You’ll turn heads as you walk through the door,” he assured me and I smiled gratefully.

He reminded me of What Makes You Beautiful right away with his choice of words.

“Do you like that, Wilhelmina?” Richard asked her. She walked to us and grabbed my hair in between her fingers.

“Yes,” she finally said.

“Okay, let’s do it,” Richard claimed.

“I was going to do it anyway,” Manolo snapped and turned his back to Wilhelmina. The air was tense but as Manolo got his hands into my hair with a…blaze, things calmed down. For them, at least. I felt horrified that I had a blaze near me, but I had no voice in this choice. And if I looked sexy, I had no objection.

If my roommate was for real Eleanor Calder, Louis Tomlinson’s girlfriend and I got to meet the guys this makeover would benefit me a lot.

I soon felt my phone vibrate. I took a glance at it to see El’s text.

Hey Brit! How’s the makeover going?

I smiled at her text and immediately answered.

Great, they’ll cut my hair in layers.

In a few seconds I got an answer.

That is great. It will be playful and sexy. It is convenient for you! You will turn heads as you walk through the door ;)

She is so nice! I needed someone like her here. No one else seems to be willing to be nice in this world.

I really hope so! I have always wanted my hair in layers. Btw I met Wilhelmina…

I took a glance, making sure she was not around. If she was, I would get in trouble. Fortunately, she was not.

Oh…she is SO nice right!

El and I have grown so fond of each other that we can understand the sarcasm in each other’s texts.

Totally haha, gtg El, see you later!

I totally admired her. Not many girls can put up with what she does. Louis is lucky. I am lucky.

Bye sweetie! Ttyl!

Half an hour later, my hair was done. I took a glance in the mirror. I looked so…beautiful. I seemed different, refined, untouched, glass-like, elegant…model-like. There were so many new adjectives to describe me that it was almost unbelievable.

Wilhelmina stared and smiled. “You got it right,” she complimented.  

“I always do,” Manolo shrieked, sounding offended.

“Yeah, up till now.”

“We should go. We have to take those pictures, Wilhelmina,” Richard interrupted, obviously annoyed.

We walked out of the salon and got back into the big, black car. Twenty minutes later I was inside a room filled with dresses, shoes, accessories and any kind of clothes you could possibly imagine. Everything was branded. Gucci, Valentino, Carolina Herrera, Versace, Louis Vuitton, Michael Kors, Diane von Furstenberg, Paco Rabanne, Chanel,  DKNY, Zac Posen, Prada, Fendi, Loewe, Blumarine, Hermes, Marni, Christian Dior, and so many others I had no idea of.

I felt on heaven.

This was so cliché that it appeared to be out of a movie! It was all happy and gleeful and you just sighed in hopes of getting that.

“You need to learn the names of all these designers,” Wilhelmina pointed out in that cheerful tone of hers, effectively snapping me out of my train of thoughts.

Not so happy and gleeful anymore. That is how easily you can realize this is not cliché. In movies, the girls do not learn any designer names. They only wear the beautiful, speechless, amazing clothing they are handed and twirl around. But in real life, you have a snappy woman who glares at you and shoves clothes at you, demanding that you know the names of everyone important by the next day.

I only gulped anxiously as I was pushed into a dressing room.