Studio 22 | Mary-Kate Olsen

Chapter Ten

March 4th 2022 - New York City - Studio 22

This past week has been strange. I felt like I had gone back in time before Iraq. My parents haven't been checking in on me, in fact, they've not really been home at all. It's like they were back fighting, and Sage and I were living home alone. They've just been busy with different things, Sage told me dad was helping him, but we both had no clue what was occupying mum's time so much.

After going the past 11 weeks with them constantly around, waking up and not having them asking me if I was okay, or bringing me breakfast and water to make sure I eat something and get out of bed that day, it was strange. Not that I needed them to. I was an adult and more than capable of looking after myself, but it was just different. I was going from one extreme to another.

I got the phone call on the 26th of February, two days after my interview, telling me I got the job. It lit a fire within me; I could do this. I could truly move past this and start fresh, so as I stood in front of a large white stone building on 22nd street, I truly believed this would work out for me. I got my cast off yesterday, and it felt good to actually have the use of my arm back. Though I had a lot of work to do to strengthen it, it felt good to no longer have that constant reminder pulling my mind back to the accident whenever I looked down; I could get through the day without being stuck in the memory. I looked up at the large building. "A fresh start," I say out loud to myself before pushing the glass doors open and walking in, my heels clicking on the marble floor of the lobby with each step I took.

The lobby was crawling with people. It was clear who was there as part of the corporate part of the company, and who was involved in the actual fashion and creative side. Those there to sit in offices all day were dressed in formal suits and had briefcases containing what I can only assume to be paperwork. Their faces were set in stone with serious expressions, and they all seemed to be collectively stressed out. In contrast, those working in creative roles were decked out in trendy outfits like oversized suits that put a modern twist on formal wear. They didn't have permanent frown lines engraved on their foreheads, which made them seem lighter and more approachable. I guess that's what happens when you have a creative outlet.

I head to the desk and sign in, getting my ID for Studio 22, and directions to where The Row offices were. Once I had the correct access cards, I headed for the elevator and pressed the button for the 22nd floor. A few people got in and out along the way. People of all different backgrounds. I'm assuming this from the looks of them. The man who got in on the 4th floor and off at 10th, I assumed worked in HR; he wore an ill-fitting grey suit and what was left of his fine, strawberry blonde hair was brushed over to cover the bald spot located at the centre of his head. The young girl carrying a stack of transcripts, I assumed, worked as an intern at the publishing company in this building. She wore thick-rimmed glasses and had an 'I haven't slept in a week' vibe going off with her fluffy wavy hair and the stain on her dress. I should probably stop judging people on what they're wearing and where they work. Maybe the girl with glasses was from The Row too, and was just delivering paperwork to the head offices. I knew I didn't look this put together all the time.

Today was a rare day where I pulled everything together, my hair was done in a slick back bun, all the flyaways completely gelled down to my hair, and no amount of wind was going to make them move. My make-up was perfect, a subtle, not noticeable glow to my skin brightening my appearance with soft eyeshadow and a nude lip. Nothing too out there for my first day. Bringing it all together, I wore a pair of Atlas' old suit pants that were oversized on me and pooled around my feet. I tailored them to fit my waist, they now looked like I actually owned them instead of stealing my brother's clothes. I wanted his comfort here on my first day. It was a scary thing. It may not seem like a huge deal, but it was. I was used to throwing my hair back and putting on a uniform, and fighting for my country. This was a different ball game, a game I had no clue how to play. I paired the grey trousers with a black turtleneck, black heels and gold rings cladding my long fingers. Today was my first day, I had to look put together, that's not saying in a few weeks' time I won't come to work in a more relaxed look. The dress code for The Row was pretty laid back, you had the freedom to wear what you wanted and I liked that. Having to wear the same outfit for the past five years wasn't always fun.