Trust No Bitch: Part 3

Lilly Philipps: Sunday, 4th January, 2016

The smell of hairspray, tiny particles of pale peach powder drifting through the air, high pitched squeals and heavy breathing; there was something quite suffocating about being backstage at a fashion show. All the scents and the colours and the tumult of the nervous women that surrounded Lilly. By comparison, she was the epitome of equanimity, though that ataraxy did not extend to her interior. No, inside, she was, to put it bluntly, shitting herself. The typically calming motions of having her hair brushed through and her face preened, a variety of nude toned cosmetics applied to every part of her that the makeup artist could reach, only intensified her apprehension, because it made bursting into tears all the more counterproductive. She thought that a walk around the venue, an old, neglected secondary school, reminiscent of the kind of place illegal raves would have been held in the 90s, would help but after being reminded that she had to be "be quick" because she was "on in five minutes", the idea didn't seem quite so inviting anymore. Instead, she tried sitting calmly on the outskirts of the pandemonium, though that venture failed too as not only was it interrupted by one of her fellow models screaming about the location of the "missing-fucking-tit-tape", but also by Naomi Cookson. She'd come rushing backstage to have a last minute conversation with Lilly, reminding her that all her friends were sat out there watching, including Clara, for whom she had forgotten to buy a birthday present. Just buy her a bottle of whiskey afterwards, Lilly privately reassured herself, trying her best to look as if she was really listening to what Naomi, her face tinged slightly red, probably from crying, was saying.

"Are they all being nice to you? Clara and the others?" Lilly asked, an attempt to engage in the discussion.

"Thanks for letting me tag along but...I'm not stupid, Lilly." Naomi replied quietly. "I know they don't like me."

"Naomi, don't say that, of course they-"

"No, they don't. It's fine though. They're being polite enough. I suppose that's because of what's happened with..." Naomi stammered, as if the words that came next were ones she had never seen before and was attempting to read aloud. Lilly reached out and squeezed her hand tightly. You don't have to say it, babe, she thought but did not dare to express. Seeing Lilly's face, Naomi squeezed back and tilted her head to one side. "Are you sure you want to do this, Lilly?" She asked. "It's not...too soon? With your baby and...If you're trying to prove how strong you are to everyone, there's no need to-"

"Not to everyone. To myself." Lilly interrupted, letting go of Naomi's hand and gesturing towards the curtains, the opening in which she would swerve through to get onto the runway. "I have to go on in a minute, Naomi. You should probably go and join the others." And then, she smiled mischievously. "Tell them a dick joke." She added.

"What?" Naomi spluttered, holding a hand to her mouth to suppress her laughter as the young woman ushering the other models onto the runway shushed her.

"The others. Tell them a good dick joke." Lilly repeated simply. "They all love them. Even Alice. You wouldn't believe." Getting to her feet and throwing a thumbs up sign over Naomi's shoulder to the same woman who had shushed them, Lilly gave Naomi a firm hug and hissed goodbye. She then watched silently as her friend tiptoed out of the double doors and mouthed good luck through the window.

You're going to need that, she thought to herself, pulling over her shoulders the white blazer hanging from the clothing rack next to her and heading in the direction of the woman shoving the models onto the runway.

She had to go on.

The woman was getting more and more ardent in her gesturing and Lilly felt that if she did not, she would be a getting a face full of high fashion spit. With a deep, yet jagged breath in a last ditch effort to compose herself, she approached the woman with a timorous smile.