And They Told Me I Couldn't Act

TAKE 13

WHEN IT CAME to celebrities, I've had a wild imagination. I'd imagine the richer they were, the bigger the house. That more quirks will fill their spaces, to collector edition items and expensive glassware.

Naturally, when it came to one of the top 20 singer-songwriters under 30 with incredibly privacy. I expected luxury, large spaces and odes of marble. Or something leading up to a grand reveal, not the small - actually, that's not the right word.

Honestly, Harry Wolfe's house is what a penguin roaming around the desert would look like. It's a medium sized home with an average layout, no marble or wide spaces or anything to set it apart from an ordinary house. Nothing like what you saw on vogue or any celebrities home.

The deco is clean but it doesn't look like an interior design has been here. It looks like something his mum and him picked out together.

It's so ordinary.

I swipe the shock from my expression to meet Charles, who's comfortably seated on a green so far that looks far to bright for the dark gray carpet on the floor.

He spots us as we enter, and his smile widens, "I'm glad to see you here," he says cheerfully. "So we're thinking to shoot them kissing on the sofa." He stands up from the mentioned sofa and walks to the staircase.

"Where's Harry Wolfe?" I ask.

"Changing," Charles answers. "Come on up," he gestures to the staircase. Priscilla and I follow him.

There's about four doors upstairs, he leads us to one. "This is Harry's walk-in closet," he says. The first thing I see is Harry Wolfe's basketball shoes. They're carefully arranged on top of the boxes. I'm not too familiar with shoes but they look like special editions. They're carefully put.

Okay, the penguin has left the desert. Now the penguin is in Canada.

His closet was what I'd expected from a Celebrity home but very much smaller. I'd always naively thought they'd have a whole floor for their closet. Then again, his room is unlike any celebrity home I could think of. "He likes to collect basketball shoes," Charles says.

I didn't realize it because I'd been staring, but I turn to look at Charles and smile sheepishly.

Priscilla looks a little embarrassed.

I hate that I'm embarrassing her. I resolve to avoid gawking. His house is small, a lot smaller in celebrity standards. There's no need for me to gawk.

"We can do the couple one here," Charle says as the other door, probably the one connected to Harry Wolfe's bedroom opens. I try to act cool, doing my best to look bored.

"We can do the couple one now," Harry Wolfe offers. He's dressed in a red, white and black Tommy Hilfinger sweater, and dark jeans.

Oof.

It's not his clothes that made me a little breathless.

His hair is styled messily, younger looking and his skin is clear and pale. He looks bare, very different from the bronzy man whose face I've collected in many magazines.

Seeing his face, I realize he must have been wearing makeup this whole time. Today's the first I've seen him without.

I can't help but feel a little winded like I've rushed up the stairs.

He doesn't glance at me, not even a peek. It's fine. Neither of us is comfortable here anyway. Last thing, I want him to think is that I'm fan-girling over him. I'm not.

Charles clasps his hands, "Great," He takes a phone out of his pocket. It's a Samsung, "Harry, you take the picture."

Huh, Christopher is right. Everyone does call him Harry.