world famous fashion designer, Selene White, crosses paths with NBA star Jordan Poole, reigniting a romance cut short years ago. however things are different from 5 years ago, Selene, now the guardian of her siblings after their mother's passing, a...
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37 Days til Paris Fashion Week Fall-Winter 2023 January 18, 2023 📍Paris, France
I remember when I got the call.
I was in Paris, immersed in the whirlwind with preparation for Fashion Week. My designs were set to feature in Astre Couture's first independent show, "Celestial Metamorphosis," marking a pivotal moment after five years of collaboration with renowned brands like Miu Miu, Chanel, Ester Manas, Akris, and Saint Laurent.
In "Celestial Metamorphosis", The runway was adorned with ethereal fabrics and shimmering lights, symbolizing the sun's transformative journey. My first solo show was cut short with the information told to me on the phone that day.
My mother had fallen ill to the point where she was incapable of walking. This was the woman who loved me, raised me, birthed me, and prayed for me to be where I am today. Not only was she taken from me, but she was also taken from my younger siblings, Zahara and Peyton. A illness had consumed her body and stolen her joyful spirit – a Grade 4 Brain Tumor diagnosed months ago, a secret she chose to deal with alone to shield us from worry.
My mother raised me alone until I was 10, gifting me an old sewing machine and a dress she no longer fitted that sparked my love for fashion design. She had me at 16 and was cut off by her family, left to raise me with my father. He didn't stick around for long, pursuing other plans that didn't involve a child. For the next 10 years, she played the roles of a mother, father, mannequin for my designs, a runway model for our at-home shows, my biggest fan, and my best friend.
My mother met Mike when I was around 10. That same year, she became pregnant with my younger sister, Zahara, and my younger brother, Peyton, when I was 17. Their father proved to be unreliable, constantly in and out of their lives, and was deemed incapable of taking care of them. In the years that followed, my mother bore the primary responsibility for raising them, especially after I left for Paris. She always emphasized that she didn't want me to feel burdened by the responsibility of being their caregiver. While I cherished the moments I spent with my siblings, I missed out on witnessing much of their growth as my life in the fashion world was just beginning.
Among the glitz of Paris Fashion Week, news of my mother's deteriorating health pierced through the veil of my glamorous existence. In an instant, the runway dreams I crafted for Astre Couture's big debut faded into insignificance. The weight of family, responsibility, and the urgency to be there for my mother overpowered the allure of the fashion world.
I immediately canceled all my plans for Fashion Week, disregarding the showcase that awaited my designs. Instead, I boarded a plane bound for California, leaving behind the glittering lights of the runway for the harsh reality awaiting me at the hospital. The decision to prioritize family over fame marked a profound shift in my priorities.
The journey back to California from Paris was filled with tears, anger, and pain. Reflecting on it, I regret not having recognized my mother's struggles earlier, wishing I could have offered my support sooner. In hindsight, I see my past actions as self-centered, like when I left my family at 18 to live and create in Paris until I was 23. Despite visits on holidays and birthdays, I rarely stayed for more than a week. It wasn't a lack of love for my family; rather, it was an want and need to have my name in lights
Arriving at the hospital, the contrast between the high-paced fashion environment and the somber atmosphere of the medical facility hit me. The scent of antiseptic replaced the fragrance of couture, and the beeping monitors created a symphony in place of the runway music. The decision to be by her side became an act of redemption, an attempt to reconcile with the time lost. The hospital room transformed into a for the reunion of a fragmented family, as Zahara, Peyton, and I faced the loss of the woman who had held us together.
As I sat in the hospital room, the juxtaposition of the glamorous life I had been leading in Paris with the harsh reality of my mother's condition was like a slap in the face. The guilt clawed at my insides, a reminder that while I was chasing my dreams in Paris, my mother was silently suffering.
"Selene," her weak voice broke through the sterile silence, and I felt a lump forming in my throat. As I took hesitant steps towards her, the memories of the missed moments flooded my mind.
"Selene, baby come here." she whispered again. I'd been sitting in the room with her since 4am not a sound except the beat of her heart monitor until now. I clutched her frail hand, my fingers entwining with hers, as if seeking solace in the connection. "Hi, Mommy," I whispered, tears welling up.
As I bowed my head against her chest, the weight of guilt and remorse pressed down on me. "Mommy, I'm sorry I'm so sorry. I should've been there and I didn't do anything but leave you and Zahara and Peyton. I left you with to deal with all this alone. I could've helped I'm sorry I just-" I proclaim before putting my head in her chest and crying. I knew what was happening and I did nothing I could've helped her. "Selene, you did nothing wrong. Don't go blaming yourself lovebug" She said as she wiped my tears.
"I love you mommy, I'm sorry.." My mother lifts my chin with a finger and looks at me with my watered eyes.
"Selene, I need you to be strong for them. I need you to watch Zahara and Peyton. I need you to take care of them give them the life they deserve. Show them more in the world."
At 23, I was young, and having kids wasn't in my plans for at least another five years. Raising two kids? It was nowhere in my agenda. I had built my name, my brand, my life, my fame, and my passion in the world of fashion. I knew the intricacies of fashion design, but raising kids, especially those who had just lost their mother?
The weight of the promise settled on my shoulders, merging with the stark reality of the hospital room. As I wiped away my tears, I gazed at my siblings – Zahara sleeping with her Peyton's head in her lap . Their innocence and vulnerability took over through my worldly concerns.
"I promise you, Mommy," I declared, my voice steady despite the questioning within, "I will give them the life they deserve. I'll be there for every scraped knee, every triumph, every milestone."
