STARGIRL, alexia putellas

5. you're on.

After the exhilarating – and orange juice-soaked – first day, I needed to debrief with someone who understood me better than anyone else. Alanis. As far as best friends go, she was the unicorn of the herd – magical, mythical, and occasionally capable of stabbing you with her horn. Okay, not the last part, but you get the idea.

So, I grabbed my phone and gave her a call. She picked up after what felt like a century of waiting.

"Hola, chica! How was your first day?" Her voice, an auditory equivalent to a family pack of Ben & Jerry's after a breakup, relieved me immensely. 

"Yeah... good... um..."

"What happened, Iz?" I could practically hear her future cackling now. 

"I chucked juice all over my captain's white shirt who also happens to be like, the most important and intimidating female football player in the world."

The laughter I had imagined would come, shortly ensued. 

"Wow, you've got off to an impressive start, my friend. Orange juice and football royalty don't usually mix well."

"That's the understatement of the century," I replied. "Then Jonatan introduced us, and I think I might have gone too far with the sarcasm because I swear I felt her gaze freeze me in place. Her polite words were dripping with hidden menace. 'This is Barcelona, not London,' she told me."

Mila winced. "Yikes, Iz."

"The way she looked at me was like I'd committed some cardinal sin, a football sacrilege of epic proportions."

"Remember, every team has its quirks and unwritten rules. Just give it some time, get to know your teammates, and find your place in the puzzle. As for 'La Reina', maybe she's testing your mettle. Show her you've got the spirit to match your skills."

I couldn't help but chuckle at her wisdom. "I can always count on you for the pep talk, Mila. Thanks. I guess I'll have to learn the art of blending in without losing myself."

"Exactly," she said. "Besides, I'm sure you'll win them over with your wit and that charming grin of yours. Just remember, you're there to play the game you love, and nothing's going to stop you."

-

The prospect of dinner with my new teammates seemed like a perfect opportunity to bond and possibly erase the orange juice fiasco (aka me turning Alexia Putellas into a walking fruit salad) from their memories. Armed with this determination, I dove headfirst into getting ready for the evening.

It was the classic fashion dilemma: what to wear. I couldn't go too casual and risk looking like I didn't care, but I also couldn't go too formal and come off as a pretentious snob. So, I opted for something in between. 

I wore my Ganni t-shirt with a pair of vintage Levi's, my red Miu Miu heels, red Bottega bag and a dash of Tom Ford's Lost Cherry fragrance to finish. Perfect. I aimed for my makeup to be bronzy and golden since all my jewellery was gold and it did tend to look best on me anyway. My blonde curly hair was loose and styled and after micro analysing myself in the mirror for around ten minutes, I decided it was time to go. I packed my handbag with all the essentials – phone, wallet, lipstick and a packet of mint gum for good measure – and headed out the door.

I was impressed with Lucy's choice of restaurant. The place was a chic fusion of modernity and tradition. Sleek wooden tables sat under a canopy of hanging plants, and a mural of Barcelona's vibrant streets covered one wall. The ambience was just the right mix of cosy and upscale, striking the perfect balance between letting you know you were in for a treat but without making you feel like you needed a PhD in culinary art to enjoy your meal. The interior was all exposed brick walls and dim, atmospheric lighting. They had a range of dishes that made my taste buds do a victory dance. The menu was like a gastronomic passport to Spain, boasting everything from patatas bravas to paella, and sangria that could give a girl the courage to stain more white shirts. Seriously, the orange juice incident should've taught me something.