In the spotlight

34

Sofia Christensen

As we were nearing the ominous day, aka Sunday, things started to get pretty scattered around the place. While we had our clothes prototypes and already reviewed them, they were still nowhere to be found, and it was Friday already.

Photoshoots had to be delayed or cancelled completely; all of our schedules were turned upside down, and we were on call basically 24/7. Adriana was dragged out of bed at 3 am during the night for the 6th review of her dress, and I had shoots lasting until 1 in the morning because the photographer was stuck in traffic.

Everybody was running up and down in the offices, and this disease spread to the hotel as well, hearing people trampling around in the corridors during the night, getting back or just heading out to work.

I have been working as a model for quite some time now, but I don't think I have ever experienced a crazier fashion week during my years of being in this profession. In exchange, I could just hope that the show itself will be spectacular after all the work we put into it.

The makeup artist's voice dragged me back to the ground. She was signaling with her finger towards the ceiling, so I looked up while she finished off my eyeliner. A few more finishing touches here and there, blending my blush and giving more color to my eyeshadow and ta-dam.

She moved away with the brush and contour in her hands, so I could examine my reflection in front of me. I got used to the professionalism of my coworkers during fashion weeks, but god damn, these hair and makeup stylists weren't messing around.

She created a perfect smokey look, dark eyeshadow covering my eye above the cat-eye-shaped eyeliner, stretching almost until the darkened eyebrows. My mouth was drawn and got a deep matte red color, matching everything else perfectly. Especially the black bow I had in top of my hair, in the affluent blonde waves that were falling to my shoulders.

I thanked the girl for her professionalism before I got up from the chair. I grabbed the two sides of my hot pink silk robe and pulled them together before my chest. My manager called me today that Vogue wanted a last-minute photoshoot with me for the next cover, and they were ready to pay a fortune for it, but they insisted that I wear my VS angel robe, so that's what I did.

I absolutely adored the hot pink silk robe with black glitters on the back, forming the words Victoria's Secret Fashion Show Los Angeles 2023. When I received it along with my wings, lingerie, and a pair of beautiful white high-heeled boots, I was over the moon. I used to sit and stare at the robe from my bed as it was hanging on my wardrobe because I refused to put it away. Who would've thought that the VSFS would end up being the trigger before my illness?

I was heading towards the largest studio room in this building, in a completely silent corridor. It was still relatively early, especially for people working until daybreak, so nobody was really seen around these parts at the moment.

The clanking of my elevated boots echoed back from the white walls around me. With every step I took, my excitement grew in my body. After all, it's been months since I was on a cover, and getting back to business with Vogue could be just the thing I needed right now.

Noises could be heard already on the other side of the studio's door; the unmistakable clicking of the camera. I opened the door slowly and quietly considering that somebody was probably having a shoot on the other side and peeked inside.

A few people were sitting here and there waiting for their turn, but what really got my attention was the photographer himself. He was standing behind the camera, testing the lights and the positions before the large white screen hanging on the wall.