“We have you girls scheduled to attend his show on Friday,” Leah points out.
“And there’s the Louis Vuitton after-party tonight,” Mom reminds us. “I’m sure you can spend time with Dylan there.”
“What time is the Louis Vuitton show?” Paige asks.
“Right after the Ricci show,” Mom tells her. “It’ll be a busy afternoon.”
“It’ll be a busy week,” Leah clarifies.
The Baggatio studio is surprisingly calm considering that their show is just days away. We do the usual studio tour, and then we’re introduced to Alberto Baggatio. He greets both of us then turns to Paige with a big smile. “I am so pleased to meet you, Miss Forrester,” he says as he takes her hand.
“Please, call me Paige.”
“Then you must call me Alberto,” he says as the three of us sit down in the leather chairs in his office. “I am so impressed with your fashion sense. I have seen your show and you are wise beyond your years. I would be pleased to have someone with such a fine-tuned sense of style in my studio.”
“Thank you.” She crosses her legs then leans forward. “And I am a great admirer of yours, Alberto. I’ve been following your career for some time now.”
“Then I must ask. Did you come to my show in Paris?”
She nods. “I did. And not only did I love your line, but I was very impressed with your selection of models.”
He chuckles. “There was a mixed reaction to that.”
Paige turns to me now. “Alberto featured models that look like real women,” she explains. “Including Laetitia Casta, Bar Rafaeli, and Adriana Lima. Beautiful women, but not your typical runway models. And I believe you had Elle Macpherson as well.”
“Some say I copied Marc Jacobs,” he admits. “I say imitation is the highest form of flattery.” “I agree.”
“Marc started something admirable. I am only trying to continue the tradition.”
“Will you continue it in Milan?”
He nods. “I love using models who look like real women. I love curves on a woman’s body. It’s what I design for.”
Okay, I’m really impressed now. “I think that’s wonderful,” I tell him. “I get concerned when so many of the fashion images we see are stick-thin models. That’s not at all what most women look like.”
“I am in agreement. Oh, I understand how tall, thin models make some clothes look good. But I say if you cannot design clothes that look good on real women, why design clothes at all?”
“I love that,” I tell him.
He smiles and leans back. “And it is because I love women. I truly love women—women of all shapes and sizes and colors.” He holds up a finger. “It is my opinion that not all designers love women. I think some designers love their clothing more than they love their women.”
“I think you’re absolutely right,” I say with enthusiasm. “Some designers see women as something to display their fashions on, like a coat hanger — not as real people with real lives and real needs.”
“Ah, so you are the realist sister.” He nods and turns to Paige. “And you are the romantic?”
“That’s fairly accurate,” Paige admits. “But we rub off on each other.”
“Rub off?” He frowns.
“We influence each other,” I say. “I try to get Paige to think more realistically and she tries to get me to loosen up.”
He laughs. “Is a good combination.”
We talk awhile longer, then, as promised, we end the interview within the hour. “Thank you so much for taking time to visit with us,” Paige tells him. “I know our viewers are going to love hearing your thoughts on fashion.”
“And on real women,” I add.
We wrap it up and, as usual whenever we do these kinds of interviews, Alberto invites us to go with his assistant and do some “shopping” in his show room. “I would be proud to have my clothes worn by such lovely young women.” He tips his head in a bow. “Now, if you will please excuse me.”
“Alberto Baggatio is perfectly delightful,” I say to Paige as we’re leaving the studio. “I’ve become a real fan.”
She chuckles. “I thought you’d like him.”
Next we do the Nina Ricci show, arriving just in time to get our seats before the show begins. The styles remind me a bit of Rhiannon’s designs, which I mention to Paige. “You’re right,” she says in surprise, like she can’t believe I’ve been paying that much attention. And there is a similarity in the styles—the use of lace, ruffles, and other interesting feminine touches. The color scheme, except for pops of yellow, is rather neutral.
Afterward, Paige is able to get some words with chief designer Peter Copping. She compliments him on what seems to have been a highly successful show. And he opens up and tells her some of the thoughts behind his inspirations.
“Well, I think you’re just brilliant,” she tells him. “The way you carry on the Ricci tradition is superb. I’m sure Maria would be quite pleased.”
He smiles as he thanks her. “And you will come to our after-party tonight?”
“We’ll try to drop by,” she says. “Thank you so much for taking time to speak to me.”
He takes her hand and kisses it. “A pleasure.”
As we walk away I quietly ask her if she got the name wrong. “Wasn’t it Nina Ricci? I think you said Maria.”
“Her name was also Maria—Nina was a nickname.”
I nod. It figures Paige would know this.
Next we go to the Louis Vuitton show. A year ago, all I knew about Louis Vuitton was that the company made handbags and luggage. But watching the fashions on the runway today, I realize that this is a style I can embrace. In a way these styles are similar to Baggatio’s; they seem like real clothes for real women. I see flowing skirts, fitted jackets, and quality fabrics — very classic and stylish. They remind me of some of the clothes my favorite old movie icons wore in the forties. I think I would enjoy wearing these clothes.
We only have time for some quick questions with their designer before we need to get over to Gucci to do our last interview of the day. The Gucci people are polite and helpful, but I can tell they are as eager to get this over with as we are. And Paige, probably distracted with the fact that Dylan is in town, wraps up the interview rather quickly.
“Another day, another dime,” she says lightly as we go out to the car.
“You are taking this seriously, aren’t you?” Mom quietly questions Paige as Leah speaks to the driver about tomorrow’s itinerary.
“Of course.” Paige gives her an indignant look. “This is my show. I take it very seriously.”
Mom looks skeptical. “Well, it seemed you rushed that last interview.”
“Look, Mom.” Paige stands up straighter. “I try to gauge my interviewees. If they’re not interested or they’re feeling rushed, it’s not going to be a good interview anyway. Sometimes we just have to cut our losses and go. That one might not even make it on the show.”
“But it’s Gucci,” Mom points out.
“So?” Paige narrows her eyes. “No offense, Mom. But I’ve been doing this longer than you and I think I know what I’m doing.”
Mom glances at me and I just shrug. I can’t disagree with Paige since she is very good at her job, but I see Mom’s side too.
“We got a lot of good footage today,” I say as we get into the car.
“We did,” Paige agrees. Then she leans toward the driver, calling to him in broken Italian. “Scusi, can you drop me at Hotel Bulgari, per favore?”
“What for?” Mom asks.
Paige turns to her with a scowl. “To see Dylan.”
“Oh.” Mom nods, but I can tell she’s not pleased.
“I’ll have Dylan bring me back to the hotel in time to go to the after-parties,” she says to us. “Erin can come with us after dinner if she wants.”
I frown. “That’s such a warm invitation, how can I resist?”
“Well, you don’t usually like the after-parties anyway.”
/>
I shrug. “That’s true.”
“Maybe I’ll go with Erin,” Mom says.
Now I love my mom, but I’m not in love with the idea of having her as my date. Paige tosses me a look now, like maybe she feels a little guilty. “No, Mother,” she says firmly. “Erin will come with Dylan and me. Right, Erin?”
“I guess.”
Now I’m not sure which would be worse … going with my mom or crashing my sister’s date. Mostly I want to get out of going at all. But I decide to let it go for now. I can work it out later with Paige.
Chapter
13
“Is that someone you know?” Mom asks me as we’re walking into the hotel.
“Huh?”
“Over there.” She points to where a young man is hurrying toward us, waving to catch our attention.
“That’s Gabin,” I tell her as I wave back.
“Erin!” he exclaims as we hug. “I hoped you were here, but now I see you!” He holds me at arm’s length and looks into my face. “You are more beautiful than I remember.”
“Thanks.” I feel my cheeks grow warm at this unexpected attention. “And your English has improved a lot.”
He nods eagerly. “I have been practicing.”
I turn and introduce him to Mom and Leah.
He smiles at my mom. “I see beauty runs in the family.”
She laughs then pats him on the back. “I think I’m going to like you, Gabin.” She gets this look in her eye—like she’s up to something. “And I may be stepping over a line here, but I know that Erin isn’t interested in tagging along with Paige and Dylan to the after-parties tonight.”
Gabin frowns. “Tagging along?” “Never mind,” I say quickly.
Then his eyes light up. “You do not have a date tonight?”
I toss Mom a look. Leah just laughs.
“I am honored to escort you,” Gabin says.
“What a great idea!” Mom exclaims.
“And so out of the blue,” I tease.
“Is that mean yes?” Gabin asks hopefully.
I agree, but I suggest that we connect with Dylan and Paige as well, and he seems okay with that. “We can meet in the lobby,” he says, “around, uh, eight?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Ciao!” He says with a grin.
“Ciao,” I echo.
“What a sweet guy,” Leah says as we get in the elevator. “And attractive,” my mom adds.
I tell them both about Gabin’s connection to the Hermès family then explain to Leah how Gabin gave me my Birkin bag in Paris, and how Paige went crazy with jealousy when she didn’t get one.
“Then he gave Erin another Birkin bag,” Mom fills in. “A pink one for Paige.”
“And then everyone was happy,” I say as we part company to go into our rooms. Actually, the truth is that Gabin hadn’t been happy that day, because I told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship with him. Paige questioned me about it at the time, and in retrospect it seems a bit immature on my part. Really, what would’ve been wrong with continuing to be friends with a sweet guy like Gabin and seeing where things go? It’s just that I was worried that he was more into me than I was into him, and I didn’t want to hurt him. But maybe I over-thought it at the time. Perhaps I’ll revisit it tonight.
Once I’m in my room, I check my iPhone. There’s a text message from Mollie and one from Blake. I read Mollie’s first. She’s feeling bummed, missing me, and worried that she’s not a good mommy. I text her back, saying she is a very good mommy and that I miss her too, and I gently ask if she needs to make an appointment with her counselor. She seemed to have turned a corner with the baby blues last month, but maybe she still needs some additional help.
Then I look at Blake’s message, which isn’t that different from the last one he sent. I write back, telling him we had a good day and that I’m going to the after-parties with Gabin tonight. Blake met Gabin in France, and at the time I thought he was jealous of Gabin. I’m curious how he’ll react now … or if he’ll react at all. And then I have to ask myself why I even care. Or maybe I don’t. They say the heart is a fickle thing … and I’m starting to wonder if that’s true.
As it turns out, Gabin and I don’t cross paths with Dylan and Paige at the Nina Ricci after-party. But we do run into Taylor Mitchell and Eliza Wilton. I’m happy to see Taylor, but I feel awkward around Eliza. Still, I try to make polite conversation, asking them what they’re doing in Milan this week.
“I’m on a research mission,” Eliza laughs. “At least that’s why the trip counts as a tax deduction.”
I explain Eliza’s new partnership to Gabin. “Did Rhiannon come?” I ask her hopefully.
“No, she’s home, working. Maybe next year she’ll get to come.”
“So are you doing Dylan’s show?” I ask Taylor.
Taylor’s mouth twists slightly to one side. “No, I’m not doing much with Dylan these days.”
“That’s for sure.” Eliza makes a sly smile, like she’s holding back something really juicy. Maybe to hold Eliza off from gossiping, Taylor quickly explains how she’s modeling for Versace this week. “The show’s tomorrow.” She sends Eliza what seems like a warning glance, like she wants her to keep her mouth shut. I wonder if it’s because Taylor doesn’t appreciate Eliza’s recent publicity in regard to Dylan.
“Versace …” I say to Taylor. “That’s impressive.”
Her dark eyes sparkle. “Yes, I was impressed too. They approached me in Paris, but I didn’t take them too seriously.”
“Apparently they took you seriously.”
She shrugs like it’s not a big deal.
“So where’s Paige tonight?” Eliza asks with a bit too much curiosity.
“She and Dylan were supposed to meet us here,” I say casually.
“And how about my buddy JJ?” Taylor directs this to me. “I left him a message, inviting him to use my name to get in here tonight.”
“I haven’t seen him since this afternoon,” I admit. “I can give him a call if you want.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” We’re joined by several others and the conversation hops around from topic to topic in a gossipy sort of way. But the way Taylor and Eliza reacted when I mentioned Dylan’s name has me so distracted that I can’t completely focus. So I simply study Eliza as she interacts in her usual chatterbox way, making her life seem larger and more important than I suspect it really is. Suddenly I’m worried that Eliza might not be finished with her pursuit of my sister’s fiancée just yet.
“So where’s the lovely Paige Forrester?” one of the Ricci stylists asks me. “We hoped we’d see her tonight.”
“She’s supposed to be here.” I repeat what I said earlier then I compliment him on the Ricci show today. “It felt really fresh, and so feminine too.” I’m tempted to bring up Rhiannon and how I think she has a style that’s complementary to Ricci’s spring line, but I suspect that’s not an appropriate thing to say.
Instead I turn to Gabin, asking him if he wants to go check out the food table with me. Mostly I want to escape this little throng of gregarious fashion freaks. Okay, I suppose they’re not really freaks. I just feel the need for a break from all this.
“I’m kind of worried about Paige and Dylan,” I confess to Gabin after we’ve both gleaned some tasty-looking appetizers and are off on the sidelines, balancing our plates and drinks, nibbling our food, and watching the colorful crowd.
“What is wrong?” he asks me.
I think about this. “Can I trust you, Gabin?”
He smiles. “You know you can, Erin.”
And I know this is true. Gabin is just like that. “Maybe you heard about the rumored affair between Eliza and Dylan? It was in some of the tabloids.”
He nods somberly. “Yes, I read something on an online fashion site. I hoped it was just that—a rumor.”
“I hoped so too. But something about the way Eliza is acting tonight … well, it has me worried.”
“You are v
ery loyal to your sister.” Gabin takes a sip of champagne.
I shrug. “She’s my sister.”
He presses his lips together then glances off to the side, like there’s something he wants to say, but can’t.
“Do you think it’s wrong that I’m concerned for my sister’s interests?” I ask him.
“No. But what of your own interests, Erin?”
“Oh.” I nod. “Good point.”
“Perhaps … it seems your sister … she is demanding of your attention.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“She is a grown woman, Erin. She must live her life. She must make her mistakes.”
“Yes, I know you’re right. But part of my job is to watch out for her.” I explain how Helen calls me Jiminy Cricket sometimes, which makes Gabin chuckle.
“Oh, yes, I remember Pinocchio and the little cricket.” His eyes light up. “And Pinocchio.” He taps the side of his head. “He was not too smart. He needed a cricket to help him.”
“And Paige?”
He smiles. “She is a smart one. But perhaps … she doesn’t always make the same decision as you. No?” “That’s for sure.”
He gets a thoughtful look. “I do not like to criticize.”
“Criticize?” I frown. “Me?”
He shakes his head. “No, not you.”
“Paige?”
“No … not Paige. It is not my place to be suspicious. I like you and I like your sister.” “And …?” I wait.
“And … Dylan Marceau … I am not so sure.” “Not so sure about what?”
“I do not know if he is who your sister thinks he is.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Dylan is not so unusual—he is a man who loves his beautiful women. Sometimes he perhaps … loves them too much.”
Suddenly the appetizers are not so appetizing. In fact, it feels like there’s a brick in the pit of my stomach. “Do you know this for sure?”
“I have heard Dylan talk, Erin. The way men talk sometimes … around other men.”
“Oh …” I nod slowly. I get it. “Was that before Dylan and Paige were engaged?”
Ciao Page 11
