Ice and asphalt [Charles Leclerc]

14.

Waking up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, I take a moment to let the events of last night dissolve into the backdrop of a new day. The anticipation of the photoshoot with YSL stirs a mix of excitement and nerves within me, a welcome distraction from the turbulent emotions swirling around recent events. Standing before the mirror, I brush through my long brown hair, its natural color now untouched by the blonde highlights I once had. The decision to let go of them felt symbolic, marking an end to one chapter and the beginning of another, especially after my fall on the ice. It's a subtle reminder that sometimes, moving forward means embracing the essence of who we are, unadorned and authentic. As I go through my skincare routine, the cool touch of the serum on my face brings a sense of calm. YSL had instructed me not to wear any makeup to the shoot, as their artists would take care of everything. It's a strange feeling, to be so exposed yet so ready for transformation under the skilled hands of their team. Each step of my skincare feels like a small act of preparation, not just for the shoot but for facing whatever comes next with a fresh face, literally and metaphorically.

As I step into the bustling atmosphere of the YSL shoot, familiar faces greet me with warm smiles, a reminder of the journey we've embarked on together since their sponsorship with me and our collaboration on designing the costume for the Winter Olympics. Yet, amidst the familiarity, there's a sea of new faces, each bustling with purpose and creativity, adding an air of excitement to the studio. Led to the makeup station, I settle into the chair as the skilled hands of the makeup artist work their magic, transforming my face with deft strokes and carefully chosen hues. Amidst the flurry of brushes and powders, Anastasia, the woman overseeing YSL's sponsorship with me, approaches with a radiant smile. "Hello, darling," she greets me warmly, her presence exuding an air of grace and professionalism. Returning her greeting, I offer a grateful smile as she compliments my appearance. Her kind words serve as a gentle reassurance, dispelling any lingering nerves and instilling a sense of confidence as I prepare for the shoot ahead. As Anastasia finishes admiring the makeup work, her demeanor shifts slightly, hinting at a hidden excitement as she leans in to share a piece of news that catches me completely off guard. "Louise, darling, I have some thrilling news for you," she begins, her tone laced with anticipation. "This shoot isn't just any ordinary photoshoot. It's for the cover of French Vogue." Her words hang in the air, momentarily stunning me into disbelief. French Vogue? The prestigious fashion magazine renowned for featuring the most iconic figures in the industry? I can't help but question why they would choose someone like me. "Why me?" I blurt out, unable to conceal my astonishment. "I mean, why would they choose a former athlete like me?" Anastasia's smile widens as she places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Because, my dear, you are not just a former athlete. You are a symbol of resilience, strength, and beauty—both inside and out. You were named Sports Woman of the Year in 2018, and your journey from the skating rink to finding a new passion after your career-ending fall has inspired countless individuals around the world."

As the topic of the Sports Woman of the Year award arises, conflicting emotions swirl within me. On one hand, there's a sense of pride associated with receiving such a prestigious accolade. It's a recognition of my achievements in the world of figure skating, a validation of the hard work and dedication I poured into my sport over the years. But alongside that pride, there lingers a tinge of uncertainty and even a hint of inadequacy. I can't shake the feeling that perhaps I received the award out of sympathy rather than pure merit. After all, my skating career came to an abrupt and dramatic halt, not due to a triumphant victory or a graceful exit, but because of an unfortunate accident that left me unable to continue. The fact that I wasn't even present to accept the award adds another layer of complexity to my feelings. While I was still at home, grappling with the physical and emotional toll of my injury, the award ceremony went on without me. It's a bittersweet reminder of what could have been—a moment of celebration tainted by the harsh reality of my circumstances.