Page 64 of Room Service
“Well, that’s me,” she declares with her arms held wide, chuckling.
“Holy shit. I had no idea.”
“I tend to hide away in the wings, working on new creations and keeping out of the spotlight. I have a partner that fronts it all, you know, to be the face of the brand, but I don’t care for the attention. It’s a pretty sweet deal, I get to remain anonymous except to those closest to me, and my partner, Jules, does all of the public stuff.”
I quickly ask how she takes her tea, and then I carry the mugs to the island, placing them down and sitting opposite her, absolutely rapt by the fact that I am in the presence of fashion royalty.
“I won’t tell a soul, I promise,” I assure her.
“I know you won’t, otherwise I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“And how do you know that? You’ve only met me once,” I say with a laugh, but she has a serious expression on her face as she answers.
“I’ve always relied on my gut instinct, and it’s never failed me. When I met you the other day, I knew instantly that you were genuine, real, and didn’t have one fake bone in your body.”
Huh. Pretty fucking deep for someone I’ve only met twice, but I like her perception of me.
“Anyway,” she continues, breezing past her assessment of me. “I see that sparkle in your eye, so tell me, you like fashion?”
“I really do. I mean, I haven’t been involved in anything, because I never got the chance to, but back when I was in college, I was studying fashion design.”
“Ooooo, do you have any drawings?” she asks, but my face falls.
“Not anymore. Derrick, my husband, made me get rid of them when everything went to shit and I had to give up my dream to become a maid to keep us afloat. And I guess, after that, I stopped hoping and gave up on admiring gorgeous creations, because I didn’t see the point in wishing for something that wasn’t ever going to come true.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, but I wave my hand, not wanting to put a downer on her popping in here.
“It is what it is.” I shrug.
“And what is the dream, Elise?”
I allow myself a moment to wander back to a time when I had hope and my dreams weren’t crushed to dust. “To create. To see my designs come to life. To see them being worn and be proud.”
“Not for the fame?” she asks, and I screw my nose up.
“No, I don’t think I’d be comfortable with being on show, so to speak. I mean, I’d show my face if I had to, but it was never about fame for me, I just wanted to design,” I tell her truthfully.
“You know, that’s exactly what I wanted, and I never thought I’d be able to stay hidden, but ten years later and I’m doing okay.” She smiles, and much as I did the other day, I feel a connection with her. Like we’re meant to be friends.
“I bet it’s magical to be able to see your designs come to life.”
“It really is. But it gets a bit much sometimes, the constant need to keep producing new pieces and putting home life on the back burner because a celebrity has paid an extortionate amount of money to have a one-of-a-kind creation. So when Gabe and I are able to get away from it, we pick one of Dorien’s hotels and we just relax, shut our phones off, and we take the time to appreciate one another.”
“That’s sweet.” It really is, and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that they both adore one another.
“Makes you realise that work isn’t always the be all and end all.” She’s being very open right now, and I get the feeling that maybe she needs a friend too. “You should come to my studio one day.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously, Elise,” she says with a chuckle.
“Wow, yes, oh my god, I’d love to,” I ramble.
“We’ll be sure to make it happen.” She winks, and then she asks me a personal question. “Any news on your husband?”
I hate that he gets to be called that. Husband. He never deserved the title in the first place. “No. I haven’t heard from him, and I don’t really want to either.”
“That’s understandable.” She nods her head, and I sip my drink. “You know, Elise, I’ve known Dorien a long time. I’ve given him so much shit over the years for not settling down, or for putting all of his energy into work and not caring about having a family, a wife, or, hell, even a girlfriend. But seeing him with you, I know why he waited.”
