IN WHICH the heiress to grunge is swooned by the king of garage rock in a lifelong affair over the span of three decades, always fervidly dancing on the edge of crashing and burning...
[2000s JULIAN CASABLANCAS x GROUPIE!OC]
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The east village seemed alive again and Stella had never been happier to be home. She squeezed into the hallway carrying the cups before entering the room. Julian and Gordon were working on some tweaks for the upcoming album, barely noticing her presence until the scent of coffee filled their noses. "You'd think a serial killer changed professions." She murmured as she set the coffee down on a nearby table.
The studio was makeshift and had been through it all, yet it was still standing. In some peculiar way, it had a certain charm that Julian felt had made its way onto the record. She grinned softly, watching him fuss over the controls and play a loop again and again. "I don't want any of that extra shit," he grumbled, "Back to basics." Stella set the cup in his free hand as he came up from the soundboard and leaned on the side of his chair, kissing the crown of his head before handing Gordon the other cup. "You're lucky that RCA money came in handy," he chuckled with a hearty sigh, "Thanks Stel."
"No problem," she smiled, "Well, I've got to go. I've got a shoot at 12 but I'll call you when I'm out. Okay?" her words hung in the air as Julian immediately went back to producing. She rolled her eyes. Moments like these annoyed her even though she knew it was his job, she tapped his shoulder. "Yeah, I heard you. Good luck." Gordon shot her a knowing look before she huffed and took off. Booking it down a couple of blocks to the photoshoot set. It was hard when he ignored her, even if it was accidental. "Calm down, he's just a nerd." She told herself as she stepped in. March had brought along a huge opportunity for her, Miu Miu had cited her to be the face of their Spring/Summer 2001 collection. Immediately she had said yes, the brand had noticed her potential after her accidental rebrand from boho to rock chic. She had been so excited, however, that she hadn't read the fine print.
"What? Bleach? Cut?" a pant left her chest as she stood in front of the styling team, hands shaking as they zipped a black and white dress on her body. "Yes," replied the main stylist, "Listen, Stella, you may be used to some kiddie brand using your image to sell whatever, but this is high fashion. There are thousands of faces in New York lined up to be in your position and for some reason you've landed this spot. If you want to pretend to model, go to Miss Sixty not Miu Miu." Her eyes widened bewilderedly as she caught a lashing from a French woman in her mid-thirties, cigarette smoke billowing from her fingers draped in lavish silver. She wanted to speak but could barely form a stutter. "So, sit down and let us do our job. You're in the big leagues now." Stella ran her fingers through her layers of brunette and whimpered, almost too embarrassed to protest in front of these people.
The warm water heightened her anxiety as the bleach whirled down the bowl into the abyss. A cascade of bleach blonde now fully enveloped the short new length of her hair, peeks of her dark roots were left in as an artistic choice. She stared silently at the ceiling as if traumatized. After finishing up she walked to the mirror for her makeup, when the towel dropped so did her jaw. "Oh my god. My hair is gone." She murmured amidst the hustle and bustle of people. The lighting reflected as it was being tested and the wardrobe team added extra accessories on her limp hands. Stella behaved, embarrassed into cooperation as she sat at their mercy in her chair. Some of the crew chuckled at her shock, seeing this look across the face of any model was pleasant but there was a certain kick that came from pre-established models like the daughter of a grunge icon. The second she got on set and met with the photographer; the shoot started. Once they were off Stella gained a new sense of self. She had been chosen to face the brand; hand-picked by Tom Ford. In this moment, Stella knew she had New York and the rest of the world in the palm of her hand.
She wouldn't allow herself to be defined by the men in her life. She knew a lot of attention would flood in once Julian and the guys released their album, but she was determined to be more than just his groupie. She was Stella Cobain, she was living music culture iconography and she'd be damned if she wasn't the face of the world from now on.
