heatwave | Charles Leclerc | re-writing

Chapter 15

Milan, November 2022 - Victoria Marino

The Italian streets were freezing. My breath came out in little clouds as I walked down the familiar cobblestones, hands stuffed into the pockets of my coat.

I was heading to the place. The store that, unknowingly, changed my life. The place that first made me believe I was meant to be a model.

At the end of the street, I spotted the glowing sign - and my heart immediately warmed up.

Alexander McQUEEN.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, pulled out my phone, and snapped a picture. Some things deserve to be remembered twice.

Inside, the store was quiet - almost reverent. A curated kind of silence that only luxury places can pull off. I walked toward the main counter, where a woman in her fifties was adjusting her scarf and reading something behind the till.

"Buongiorno, Ruth lavora oggi?," I asked with a grin, already feeling my stomach flip with excitement.

She looked up, eyes crinkling with a kind smile. "Sì, è nei magazzini a riorganizzare l'inventario... vuoi che la chiami?"

"Se non ti dispiace, sarebbe fantastico," I said, practically bouncing.

She disappeared through the back, and I let myself wander the showroom, running my fingers along buttery fabrics and bold silhouettes. A few new blazers caught my attention, but I barely had time to admire them before I heard a voice that lit me up inside.

"Victoria."

I turned just in time to be engulfed in a hug that could've cracked my ribs.

"Oh my God, I missed you so much," Ruth said, cupping my face in her hands as if to check if I was real.

"I missed you too," I murmured, grinning. "It's been... what, over a year?"

She nodded, still holding my cheeks. "I saw you've been to Paris, the US, Mexico... girl, you're living the dream."

"Only because of you," I said, and I meant it.

When I was younger, obsessed with fashion and bursting with curiosity, I used to wander the streets of Milan after school, window-shopping the lives I dreamed of.

One day, I walked into this very store. Tucked in the back, there was a long mirror and a clean hallway of marble. I did what any dramatic ten-year-old would do - I strutted down that hallway like I was on a Versace catwalk.

When I reached the end, I heard someone clapping. Ruth.

Back then, she was in her fifties, an ex-model from the US who had to leave the runway world behind after a cancer diagnosis. She recovered, moved to Milan, and started working at Alexander McQueen. That day, she looked me in the eye and told me I had the kind of walk that couldn't be taught.

I laughed in her face. I told her I wasn't pretty enough, that no one would ever want to see me on a magazine cover.

And then she said the words I never forgot. "Modeling is all about confidence. Your energy makes you attractive."

She taught me how to hold my posture, how to pose for cameras, how to carry myself with presence - even when I didn't believe in myself. She helped me grow into who I am. I owe her everything.

She made ten-year-old me feel seen.

Now she's in her sixties. I'm in my twenties. And she still has my back. Still shows up. Still believes in me.