Rowan Lane
Backstage, everyone's running around doing a million different things. Models are everywhere, hair and makeup teams, assistants, designers, managers, anyone you could think of.
It's bright, it's loud, everyone's rushing, doing last-minute touch-ups, and trying to get the models out on schedule.
The last few minutes before a show.
My mind is racing as I try to assist anyone I can. I still can't believe Lynn got me into a Ralph Lauren show-
"So, you know what to do... Right?" Lynn asks me again, looking unsure.
"Yes." I groan. "You've told me at least a thousand times already!" I say while struggling to hold the model's dress together with my dominant hand, and her hair with my other.
The overpowering smell of hairspray and other products makes my head throb. My arms hurt and I'm positive every muscle in my body will be sore in the morning. But the adrenaline plays as a distraction from the pain.
"Go to-"
"-this event, get the publicists, editors, and models." I finish her sentence.
"But do you know who they are-"
"Yes! For fucks sake, I know who they are!" I say in a frustrated tone, now kneeling on the floor trying to get the model's left shoe on.
I love Lynn dearly, but right now, she feels like a mother crowding me, and unnecessarily reminding me over and over again what to get from the store.
I try to relax my tone even though my stress levels are through the roof. "You've repeated it every day for the past week. Shown me pictures, videos, articles." I list, "obviously, I know who they are," trying to assure her.
"Ok, ok fine! I trust you!"
"Wait, I've been meaning to ask." I stand after finishing with the shoes. "Whose event am I exactly going to?"
As she's about to respond, "Ok. Yes. The models are all set." she says quickly to the person on the other end of her headset.
"Rowan!" someone hollers my name. I quickly turn my head in the direction of the voice. "We're on in five! Get the models in position!"
"On it!"
As I sprint over to where the models are waiting, Lynn shouts from behind me, "I'll just text you the address!"
I then enter the clump in which the models are waiting. I peep out into the crowd from the back of the runway. Holy shit there's a lot of people...
The whole runway is lit up, the chairs seating hundreds of people. Critics whispering to each other, photographers set up with their cameras, journalists, publishers, editors, college students, there's just... a lot.
I did not think there were going to be so much people.
Lynn told me this was bigger than the small ones I'm used to. Rowan, you should've expected this.
Everyone just looks so expensive and professional.
Before I'm about to have a panic attack, I look away from the runway and try to calm down. Jesus, fucking calm down Rowan. I'm going to pass out.
No Rowan, no! I'm going be to fine. I'm going be to fine.
"Babe, you're not the one going out there." A man's voice shocks me in surprise. "Relax."
"I know, it's just- this is my first-"
"I don't care. Just don't throw up on the dresses. If you're going to pass out, do it over there." He points to the middle of the backstage. "We don't want you on a front cover of a magazine instead of these outfits." That weirdly made me feel better. "Now, line them up." He reminds me.
I do so while complimenting them on their outfits and how stunning they look, trying to boost their confidence.
"We're going guys, confirmed!" I hear the stage manager speak into the mic of his headset.
The stage manager counts down from 5.
"Go, go, go, go, go!" he tells the first model in the line.
Here we go...