Page 1 of The One That I Want

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GRETA

Today is the day!

I’ve been working at the magazine for twelve years and today marks the biggest day of my career to date: the launch of my very own online magazine. Well, notmineper se – technically, it’s part ofNouveau’s new online platform – but it is very much my baby. I conceived it, designed it, staffed it, and edited it within an inch of its soon-to-be-out-in-the-world-for-all-to-see life.

Of course, it wasn’tallme. DespiteNouveau Lifebeing my vision, it wouldn’t have come to fruition without the hard work of my carefully chosen team, or without the support of my boss and mentor, Anjali.

She’s only in her mid-forties, but Anjali’s professional accomplishments are the stuff of (my) dreams. She became editor-in-chief ofNouveau Indiawhen she was twenty-five; by twenty-eight, she’d moved toNouveau Britain, our flagship edition; and within two years, she was appointed head of editorial.

That’s when she hired me as a (lowly) staff writer straight from university. I was eager but green and she took me under her wing, teaching me practically everything I know about themagazine business – mostly how to be cutting edge and a leader in the industry, rather than just staying ahead of the curve. Her guidance –andher belief in me – is how I have achieved this incredible milestone at the relatively young age of thirty-five.

My phone chimes with an incoming message – it’s Mum.

Viel Glück, mein Liebling. Wir lieben dich!

Mum is German and even though she’s lived in the UK for forty years –andI was born here – she always messages me in German. IunderstandGerman, but beyond the basics, I’m rubbish at replying. I’m positive it’s an enormous disappointment to her I’m not properly bilingual.

Still, her well wishes are always welcome, as is her telling me she loves me.

Danke! *smiley face*

After replying, I tuck my phone into my handbag and turn to face the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. When you work at a fashion magazine and don’t look like Kaia Gerber (or her mum, for that matter), there are countless approaches to developing your signature work look.

While some of my colleagues are always on trend, my look is classic and chic, which works perfectly with my petite and curvy frame. As Coco Chanel said, ‘Dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman.’ And I want to be remembered – especially for being clever and brilliant at my job.

Today, I’ve chosen an empire-line shift dress in dove grey with a matching tailored jacket and my three-inch Lorenzo heels in silver (which are far more comfortable than they look). Mystrawberry-blonde hair is pulled into a loose up-do that looks effortless but took me ages, and my make-up is natural-looking save for my glossy peach lips.

If I do say so myself, I lookfantastic.

‘Time to take the magazine world by storm,’ I tell myself with a lifted chin.

Talking to yourself may be thought of as quirky or odd or even a sign of madness, but I consider it one of my superpowers.

When I arrive atNouveau, my assistant editor, Bex, greets me with a squeal as I step out of the lift.

‘Good morning, Bex.’

She bounces on the balls of her feet. ‘I’msoexcited. Isn’t it justbeyond? Your look isfire, by the way,’ she adds before I have a chance to reply. ‘Very classy.’

‘Thanks. Not long to go now!’ I gesture for her to walk with me towards my office and she falls into step, chattering the entire way. I barely register half of what she says – most of it about engagement on socials – because the closer we get to my office, the more surreal this begins to feel.

As we navigate the halls, my colleagues send me smiles and nods, with a couple of winks thrown in. Roger from accounting lifts a thumb into the air from across the office.Are all accountants called Roger? Or is it that all Rogers go into accounting?I think, my mind landing on an absurd thought.

‘Greta!’ Ivy Jones rushes towards me and pulls me into an awkward hug. ‘So excited for theNouveau Lifelaunch,’ she says when she releases me.

‘Oh, thank you.’ Having never really worked together, we’re cordial colleagues at best, so this exchange feels somewhat inauthentic.

‘And do keep me in mind if you’re looking for ideas. I havelotsof them.’ Ah, so that explains the effusive congratulations.

‘Thank you, Ivy,’ I say.

‘That was weird,’ whispers Bex as we walk off.

‘Yep.’

Crossing the threshold into my office, Bex on my heels, I’m suddenly overcome by an intense roaring inside my head, something I’ve never experienced before.

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