Geek to Chic

Chapter 1: When in Paris

I’m a high school student. I attend Beverly Hills High School. My best friend is Kayla Matthews. I was a bookworm. No one really noticed me. My dirty blonde hair was usually pulled back in a messy braid, my glasses were always perched on my nose, and I almost always had a sketchbook in hand. I was the quiet girl who was always drawing. And then one day, I wasn’t. I spent a year abroad living with my aunt in Paris. Initially I had gone to study the art, but living with Vivianne Bonnet, or as I call her Aunt Vivi, can change a lot. My aunt is the type of person who is out every single night. She’s a french model, because as she and my mother always say, “Belles gens ne devraient pas se cacher.” (Beautiful people should not hide themselves.) My mother, Margot Dupont, is the editor-in-chief for a well-known fashion journal in Los Angeles, and my father is a talent manager for some big names in Hollywood, so we have some money, but clearly people at my school haven’t quite put together that I, Elise Dupont, am the daughter of Margot and Charles Dupont. If people realized I was rich, I’m sure the tree that I sit and sketch under at lunch wouldn’t be nearly as quiet as it is. Anyways my aunt is pretty wealthy too, and she has a huge house. The first couple of weeks I was there, I got lost on my way to the bathroom. And when Aunt Vivi threw parties that raged into the early morning, I was curled up in my room sketching out designs to show her the next day, when she was less hungover. But as I stayed there longer, my aunt pushed me to ‘be social’ and ‘make friends’ and ‘ wear clothes that don’t make you look like a potato sack.’ So I utilized my fluent french and my family debit card, and went shopping. That first day, I had wandered through the boutiques in Paris, trying to find something plain. As I was in Paris, that was a little tough. Finally I found a small store that sold all blue colored clothes. I went in and I found two things, An interesting blue color block dress that fit my curves at the top and went out into a skirt that cut off about four inches above my knees, and some black pumps to match. I went home and borrowed one of aunt Vivi’s hundreds of curling irons (gifts from companies hoping she would endorse their products), read the instruction manual, and set to work giving my hair a loose curl. About halfway through, Vivi came in streaming phrases in french about how I was doing it wrong and was I using hairspray and something about dry shampoo. In about 20 minutes she turned me back around to face the mirror and I had to say, the Bonnet women’s fabled natural beauty was definitely starting to shine through in me. Aunt Vivi had clapped excitedly and told me stay put. She ran out and soon came back with one of her big silver makeup cases. She whipped her long golden hair up in a clip and set about applying foundation and a light blush, a rich blue eyeshadow, cat-eye eyeliner, and thick mascara, finishing it off with a deep maroon lipstick. I looked in the mirror and did a double-take. I had never known how interesting makeup and making yourself look nice was. It was a bit like art. Anyways, I slipped on the heels and headed out to the underage club that Aunt Vivi had recommended. It wasn’t too far from her house, and I had walked there in no time. I had been nervous at first, but after I’d gotten inside and met a few people, I eased up. One of the first people I met was Aubree Le Blanc, who ended up being my closest friend for the remainder of my time in Paris. She introduced me to her friends, Claire and Therese and we all hung out until the place closed. They offered to take me shopping and teach me about the fashion and style here before school started, and I happily agreed. When we parted ways that night I knew something had changed. And I had a feeling that I would be spending a lot less time reading and sketching alone in my room.

For the rest of my time in Paris, I developed my sense of style and kept up my grades. Claire, Therese, Aubree, and I became the top of the food chain at our school, and boys were throwing themselves at us. While the rest of the girls gladly took as many boys as they could have, I was still extremely awkward with boys and I chose to stay away. I thought it was hilarious how the boys would fawn and blush over them. We partied almost every night, and I was always the designated driver. Soon, the summer after junior year had come, and it was time for me to fly back to my home in LA. I said goodbye to my teary-eyed friends, and promised over and over to keep in touch. Then I turned towards the plane and lugged my first suitcase on board. Vivi followed me on lugging the second suitcase and duffle bag full of all the clothes I had bought while I was in Paris. I ran back out to her car and grabbed the silver makeup case that my aunt had given me on my birthday. Setting it down in the overhead compartment, I turned around and hugged my Aunt Vivi. She made me swear to convince my mother to let me visit again, and then walked off the family jet, waving goodbye from the side of the runway. I settled in on the plane, and slowly drifted off to sleep.