The next morning, a knock sounded on Sophie's door bright and early. She'd forgotten all about the stylist. Sophie padded over to the door and flung it open. A tiny girl with pink hair and a nose ring grinned.
"Hey, Sophie—I'm Laura, your new stylist."
"Hey, Laura. Just so you know, I have no idea what's going on here."
Laura grinned. "I do."
She brushed past Sophie, bringing a luggage rack stacked with suitcases and shopping bags.
"Okay," Laura said, clapping her hands. "I'm pretty sure I got the right sizes—"
"Um. Laura? I haven't had any coffee yet..."
"Oh, I'll call downstairs and they'll get you whatever you want. Latte?"
"Sure."
Laura made the call and then it was back to business.
"Mr. Tate made it very clear that you're going to need a whole new wardrobe. We're just starting with some basics today."
"Why do I need a whole new wardrobe?"
"Because you'll be seen with him." She lowered her voice, even though they were the only people in the room. "I know your little secret and I've already signed away my life promising not to reveal it."
"Oh, well...good. Thanks." She hesitated. "The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because I need this job to do my art. Well, to focus more on it. I'm not...I mean Ian and I aren't—"
"Don't worry," Laura said. "He explained everything." She clapped her hands and looked around the room. "So this is the deal. If you're going to be seen with Mr. Tate, you have to look the part. That means couture and fashionable luxury brands. I have carte blanche to give you anything you want. Or that I want for you."
"But the cost of even a fraction of that stuff would be too much—"
"Mr. Tate said you'd say that and his words were "it's on me." So don't worry."
She shook her head. "I'm not comfortable with this. No offense, but I'm not some doll he can dress up."
"He said you might say that, too. This is the part where I get real with you: Girl. This is an amazing opportunity. The networking you could do, the places you'll go, the experiences you'll have...But you can't do it in normal people clothing. You just wouldn't belong. Mr. Tate is right: if you're doing this, you have to go all in. And if I were you, I wouldn't think twice about it."
Sophie sighed. He said it'd only be four months at the outside. And he had called Sasha Eldermoore for her. She could do this. She could swallow her pride and do this for her art. For her.
For the next hour, Laura proceeded to lay out loads of clothing, shoes, makeup and accessories. Colorful sundresses from Gucci, a Chanel leather jacket with the same quilted design as their classic bag, Fendi flats, a Prada purse.
"I want to get a feel for how you dress, so don't be shy giving me your opinion."
"I wear comfortable stuff I can photograph in. Neutral, earthy tones. Lots of black," She said.
"I can work with that."
Laura pulled out a black sleeveless cotton dress with a plunging back.
"The back dresses it up, but as you can see it's cotton—very comfortable. Made from bamboo. This is Marc Jacobs."
Sophie tried it on. She had to admit, it looked beautiful and it was surprisingly comfortable. The dress lay in folds that landed perfectly on her body. Laura handed her a pair of wedge Espadrilles—Coach. Sophie had never seen so much luxury in her life.
YOU ARE READING
Plus One
RomanceShe's his plus one. But she wants to be THE one. How does a cater-waiter suddenly become the Plus One of the country's--maybe even the WORLD'S--most eligible bachelor? Aspiring photographer Sophie Kinsale is tired of being a cater-waiter. For her...