Shopaholic to the Stars
Page 120
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The host was called Marie and she was very smiley, with enormous pearls. (And also a fairly enormous bottom, only you don’t see that, as she sits on the sofa the whole time.) I was all set to start filming at 7:20, and I was dying of excitement, except my one niggle was: Where were the clothes? When I asked the assistant producer, she just looked at me blankly and said, “You’re on to talk about Lois, right?” There wasn’t time to protest, because she bustled me onto the set, where I found not just Marie but a kleptomania expert called Dr. Dee.
Even then I didn’t realize. I kept thinking, They’ll ask me about styling soon. Maybe the clothes are on-screen. Maybe some models will appear, wearing the latest outfits.
I was so stupid. The segment started, and Marie read out an introduction all about Lois and Sage, and then she turned to me and said, “So, Becky. Let’s go back to basics.”
“Absolutely!”
I beamed at her and was about to explain that this season’s trends are all about clean lines and playful accessories when she continued, “You were actually in the shop when Lois—for whatever reason, and we’ll go into that later with Dr. Dee—shoplifted some items. Could you relive that moment for us?” I stumbled through some awkward account of seeing Lois take the socks, and then she asked me about the awards, and then she turned to Dr. Dee and said, “So, Dr. Dee. Why does an A-list movie star like Lois Kellerton turn to crime?”
And that was it. My part was over. Dr. Dee talked endlessly about self-esteem and childhood issues, blah blah (I tuned out), and then the segment was finished. Not one fashion reference. Not one mention of me being a stylist. They didn’t even ask me who the diamanté clutch bag was by.
“So.” Aran looks up from his phone and smiles his Hollywood smile. “That went well.”
“Went well?” I echo in disbelief. “It was awful! I thought I was going to be styling clothes! I made all these notes, and I was all prepared, and it was supposed to launch me as a stylist.…”
“OK.” Aran looks at me blankly, then shrugs. “But it was great exposure. We’ll build up to the styling thing.”
Build up to it?
“You said it would be a styling segment,” I say as politely as I can. “That’s what you told me.”
I don’t want to be a diva. I know Aran’s really helping me and everything. But he did promise styling. He did promise clothes.
“Sure.” He’s got that blank look again, as though he’s already tuned out what I just said. “So, we’ll work on that. Now, I have a couple of new offers, one of which is huge. Huge.”
“Really?” I can’t help feeling hopeful.
“You see? I told you you’d be the queen of the moment. The first thing is a nice invitation to the Big Top premiere tomorrow. They want you to do the red carpet.”
“Do the red carpet?” I feel a sudden glittery excitement. “Like … do interviews?”
“Sure. I think you should do it.”
“Of course I’ll do it!” I say in elation. “I can’t wait!”
I’m going to do the red carpet at a premiere! Me! Becky! In my own right! “What’s the other thing?”
“This is shit hot, totally confidential.” He nods at his phone. “I should not even be sharing this with you.”
“Really?” I feel fresh sparks of excitement. “What is it?”
“It’s reality. But it’s a whole new breed of reality.”
“Right.” I feel a bit hesitant at the word “reality,” but I’m not going to give that away. “Cool!” I say determinedly. “That sounds fab!”
“What it is—” He interrupts himself. “OK, it’s not for the squeamish. But you’re not squeamish, are you, Becky?”
“No! Definitely not!”
Oh God. Please don’t say he wants me to go on a show where you have to eat bugs. I can’t eat a worm. I can’t.
“I didn’t think you were.” He flashes that smile at me again. “What this show is about is aesthetic improvement. The working title is Even More Beautiful. Each celebrity will have a mentor in the form of another celebrity, and that mentor will carefully guide a process of aesthetic alteration. The American public will follow each process and vote on the result. Obviously, medical professionals are on hand to consult at all times,” he adds blithely.
I blink at him, not sure if I heard right.
“Aesthetic alteration?” I say at last. “You mean, plastic surgery?”
“It’s a pioneering show.” Aran nods. “Super-exciting, huh?”
Even then I didn’t realize. I kept thinking, They’ll ask me about styling soon. Maybe the clothes are on-screen. Maybe some models will appear, wearing the latest outfits.
I was so stupid. The segment started, and Marie read out an introduction all about Lois and Sage, and then she turned to me and said, “So, Becky. Let’s go back to basics.”
“Absolutely!”
I beamed at her and was about to explain that this season’s trends are all about clean lines and playful accessories when she continued, “You were actually in the shop when Lois—for whatever reason, and we’ll go into that later with Dr. Dee—shoplifted some items. Could you relive that moment for us?” I stumbled through some awkward account of seeing Lois take the socks, and then she asked me about the awards, and then she turned to Dr. Dee and said, “So, Dr. Dee. Why does an A-list movie star like Lois Kellerton turn to crime?”
And that was it. My part was over. Dr. Dee talked endlessly about self-esteem and childhood issues, blah blah (I tuned out), and then the segment was finished. Not one fashion reference. Not one mention of me being a stylist. They didn’t even ask me who the diamanté clutch bag was by.
“So.” Aran looks up from his phone and smiles his Hollywood smile. “That went well.”
“Went well?” I echo in disbelief. “It was awful! I thought I was going to be styling clothes! I made all these notes, and I was all prepared, and it was supposed to launch me as a stylist.…”
“OK.” Aran looks at me blankly, then shrugs. “But it was great exposure. We’ll build up to the styling thing.”
Build up to it?
“You said it would be a styling segment,” I say as politely as I can. “That’s what you told me.”
I don’t want to be a diva. I know Aran’s really helping me and everything. But he did promise styling. He did promise clothes.
“Sure.” He’s got that blank look again, as though he’s already tuned out what I just said. “So, we’ll work on that. Now, I have a couple of new offers, one of which is huge. Huge.”
“Really?” I can’t help feeling hopeful.
“You see? I told you you’d be the queen of the moment. The first thing is a nice invitation to the Big Top premiere tomorrow. They want you to do the red carpet.”
“Do the red carpet?” I feel a sudden glittery excitement. “Like … do interviews?”
“Sure. I think you should do it.”
“Of course I’ll do it!” I say in elation. “I can’t wait!”
I’m going to do the red carpet at a premiere! Me! Becky! In my own right! “What’s the other thing?”
“This is shit hot, totally confidential.” He nods at his phone. “I should not even be sharing this with you.”
“Really?” I feel fresh sparks of excitement. “What is it?”
“It’s reality. But it’s a whole new breed of reality.”
“Right.” I feel a bit hesitant at the word “reality,” but I’m not going to give that away. “Cool!” I say determinedly. “That sounds fab!”
“What it is—” He interrupts himself. “OK, it’s not for the squeamish. But you’re not squeamish, are you, Becky?”
“No! Definitely not!”
Oh God. Please don’t say he wants me to go on a show where you have to eat bugs. I can’t eat a worm. I can’t.
“I didn’t think you were.” He flashes that smile at me again. “What this show is about is aesthetic improvement. The working title is Even More Beautiful. Each celebrity will have a mentor in the form of another celebrity, and that mentor will carefully guide a process of aesthetic alteration. The American public will follow each process and vote on the result. Obviously, medical professionals are on hand to consult at all times,” he adds blithely.
I blink at him, not sure if I heard right.
“Aesthetic alteration?” I say at last. “You mean, plastic surgery?”
“It’s a pioneering show.” Aran nods. “Super-exciting, huh?”
