When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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"Are you ready?" Emily's voice cut through the background noise, bringing Isabelle out of her daydream.
"I think we still need hair done," Isabelle replied. They were both sitting in the makeup chair, backstage some hours before the runway show.
A runway shows that Isabelle almost completely forgot about but that took her by surprise midweek. It was something she booked a while ago. A new, up-and-coming designer that was making waves at the time, but since then kinda blew up on social media.
So what was supposed to be a more low-key runway show, decent money, good exposure - ended up turning into a whole high-pressure situation. And yet Isabelle wasn't fazed by it as much as she usually would have, because her mind was still there, with Milo.
They have been chatting here and there since the weekend, but still, nothing new set up singe then and it made her nervous. Maybe this was a good chance to not have to think about that after all!
Now, she just had her makeup done, and Emily, who she already had a few jobs with - they looked somewhat alike and would often et cast for the same jobs since it was a similar vibe - Isabelle was sure - could tell that something was up.
"I mean," Emily went on, "this is kinda a big deal now, isn't it?" Referring to the designer they were walking for.
"I guess so," Isabelle replied absentmindedly, nose in a book, as the hairdressers came and started yanking here and there doing their best to be gentle.
Emily scoffed. "Come on Izz, you wouldn't be so nonchalant if you knew who was going to be here tonight."
Isabelle arched her eyebrows but didn't want to press on seeming too desperate.
Emily looked at her through the mirror: "Casting agents, vogue, just like, way more press coverage than we're used to."
"Huh," Isabelle replied closing her book, and trying to reconnect with being present in the room. "It'll be fun," Isabelle said. More like the manifestation of wishing it would be fun rather than a certainty.
Then as Emily, ever chatty, started talking with her hair dresser, Isabel tough about how it was so much fun when she first started. And it was magic, like theatre, or running away with the circus. When she was young, and not in school, and walking these shows and all eyes were on her - there was an inexplicable feeling of a newfound seld expression that was incomparable to anything else she knew.
And it still was fun - she learned to transform the jitters into excitement, but it hasn't really ever been the same since those first few shows. It was more like repetition, and she wondered why she couldn't feel the same about anything since then, but she wasn't sure if thats how it was supposed to be anyway.
She couldn't help but hate herself a little for taking it all for granted, but she guessed that's just how life went. You want something, you get it, then you get used to it. Which left her unsure of what she should be chasing. And even more terrified that if Milo actually did like her, he may eventually tire of her.
As for her, she had a feeling this was going to be one of those things. Whether it worked out or not (or whether she liked it or not) - with him or pining alone - she was in for the long haul.
