Page 57 of Ex in the City
‘You look stunning,’ he tells me. ‘I mean… wow, that outfit. Are you allowed in a school in an outfit like that?’
I laugh. So, obviously, Cher’s outfit in the video for ‘If I Could Turn Back Time’ is very much something onlytheCher could pull off, and I didn’t fancy walking into a school in a thong, so it’s sort of my own interpretation. I’m wearing big black boots over a pair of black stockings, which connect to the suspenders hanging from my black bodysuit. The bodysuit has a black mesh panel, that forms a V-shape down the front, but it sinks nowhere near as low as Cher’s does, and I’ve got a black bra on under mine, to keep everything where it is supposed to be. The whole look is finished off with a black leather jacket, so Dylan and I do indeed look like we have coordinated our costumes.
‘If you go in there, in that outfit, you will be covered in seamen in a matter of minutes,’ he tells me plainly.
‘I think you’ll find the men in the music video were sailors,’ I correct him with a laugh.
‘I think you’ll find we’re talking about different things,’ he jokes. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
As we approach the red carpet, ready to be papped (which is something of a sore spot for us), I notice Rebecca and her new sidekick Lisa stepping outside, to check on things. Rebecca is dressed as Princess Diana, because of course she is, while Lisa has opted for Britney Spears in her ‘…Baby One More Time’ school uniform.
Noticing us approaching the red carpet, they head over to greet us, and as they get closer, they both turn the same shade of white at the same time.
‘Oh my God, Dylan, what happened?’ Lisa says, running to him, taking his head in her hands to get a better look. ‘We need to get you to a hospital, right now, this is?—’
Dylan takes her hands and holds them.
‘Relax, relax,’ he says with a laugh. ‘It’s just make-up. It’s part of my outfit. I’m Meat Loaf, inRocky Horror.’
‘Wh-what?’ she says. ‘It’s not real?’
‘It’s not real,’ he reassures her. ‘Relax. Rebecca, I said it’s not real, don’t look so worried.’
‘I’m not worried about you,’ she says as she looks me up and down, scowling.
‘Me?’ I say with a laugh.
‘Nicole, you have come in your pants,’ she says simply.
‘Nah, I think that’s just the way I’m standing,’ I dare to joke.
Her blood boils. Dylan finds me funny, at least.
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit provocative?’ she replies.
‘I didn’t really think about it like that,’ I reply. ‘I just wanted to be Cher and this felt like her most iconic look, so…’
‘And you,’ she says, turning her attention to Dylan. ‘What are you doing? Why would you not come as yourself?’
‘I wanted to dress up too,’ he insists. ‘I’m me every other day of the year.’
Rebecca sighs heavily.
‘Go on, go in,’ she tells us. ‘Nicole will catch her death out here in that.’
Going off the look on her face, I can’t say that I feel like I’ll be all that safe inside, wearing this.
Dylan and I head down the red carpet, routinely stopping for photos, posing in different directions. The rest of us are just cosplaying at being a celebrity but, for Dylan, it’s all second nature. He walks the carpet like a pro, like he hasn’t been away from it for a minute.
Stepping into the party room genuinely takes me aback. I can’t believe this is the same school hall we were standing in the other day, it’s so glitzy, like a genuine award ceremony. The transformation is nothing short of extraordinary and, while I may not have had a hand in putting it together, I’m so happy thatmy idea has come to life so well. This is so, so much cooler than the usual, stuffy black-tie fundraisers I usually have to try to stay awake through.
The room is a vision of red velvet and sparkling gold. Long, flowing curtains of deep red velvet adorn the walls, hiding anything remotely school-looking, and the tables and chairs are obviously hired in because they’re not the kind of tables and chairs kids sit on – not even by private school standards.
The tables are adorned with white linen cloths with gold accents, laid out with silver cutlery and crystal glasses. Waitstaff weaves through the crowd, offering trays of champagne and delectable canapés fit for the Hollywood elite. I love it, I absolutely love it, and it’s not just me. The atmosphere is great, easily surpassing anything I’ve ever seen at a school event. Laughter and chatter blend with the funky music being played by the live band on the stage. The large projector screen is down alongside them, on the stage, with images of real celebrities being projected onto it – which only emphasises just how ropey their doppelgangers in this room look in comparison. And, yes, I do include myself in that. I might be rocking this outfit, but I’m not super slim or leggy like the real deal.
‘I’ll go get us some drinks,’ Dylan says.
He turns to head towards the bar, only to come face to face with a woman dressed up as Tina Turner, who screams when she notices the wound on his head.
