Coco Chanel Saved My Life

by Danielle F. White

  The little bit of enthusiasm I had found to face my first day at work began to abandon me. But I decided to find the courage to hold on, at least until the end of the day.

  I took the elevator to the fifth floor. I checked myself in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw.

  When I got to the wedding planning department, I asked for Valentina De Bois. I quickly counted five people. A short girl, with very tight jeans and a navy silk shirt – which revealed her generous cleavage – walked towards me. She also had on a pair of faux leopard boots with heels so high I couldn’t figure out how she could walk. But she seemed very comfortable, as if wearing slippers. Her skin was the colour of mahogany – tanning spray or tanning bed? I wondered. Her fake smile didn’t promise anything good. I immediately felt she was about as nice as a hammer smashing your toes!

  “Valentina. You must be Rebecca,” she extended her hand with long turquoise polished nails.

  “Yes, Rebecca Bruni. Nice to meet you.”

  “Your sheath dress is nice… how shall I say? So out-of-date… Is it vintage?”

  “Well, someone used to say, fashion passes, style remains,” I said definitely irritated.

  “It’s not what my Dolce & Gabbana jeans would say…”

  Ok, she was a bitch! I should ignore her provocation.

  “Your desk is that one, on the corner. As you know, we plan wedding receptions. Our ad says, we will transform your most important day into a unique event. In short, we are working for hysterical brides and very rich grooms.”

  Well, said this way, the whole deal sounded even more exciting! I had to restrain myself from jumping for joy.

  “We organize everything: the selection of dresses, wedding rings, location, catering, flowers, cars, even the type of confetti. We offer a complete service and we are the best. Do you understand? The best,” she said with pride. “And I co-ordinate everything!” Humility evidently wasn’t her best skill.

  I went to my desk without a word and turned on the computer. I began to look at the documents that someone had put in a file called Rebecca. There were miscellaneous items: photographs of events, budgets, quotes, the history of the company, and a document stating the agency’s mission. I spent most of the morning going over these documents, then I took a break and went to the coffee vending machine. There I met two girls who seemed nice. They smiled and introduced themselves. Marika and Sara worked in marketing. When they learned that Valentina was my tutor, they laughed, wishing me good luck!

  As I was finishing my watery cappuccino, Etienne approached me with an amused smile.

  “So… Rebecca.”

  “Yes… Etienne.” I extended my hand for a formal introduction. He shook it, still smiling.

  “How is your morning going so far?” He selected an espresso from the vending machine.

  “Well, I’m trying to settle in… It’s too early to say, new colleagues, the wedding thing and Valentina…”

  “She’s a tough nut, right?”

  “Do you know her?’

  “Yes, I’ve met her a few times… for some deliveries.”

  “I wonder why bosses hire people with that kind of attitude… They should know immediately what kind of person they are going to get! Don’t you think? A boss’s task should be to create teams that also function from the human perspective… Ok, sorry for the tirade. I sometimes think that managers are a little dull. They should know better.”

  He winked. “Come on! Chill out… First days are always the most difficult, but you’ll see, eventually it will be fun.”

  Well, with errand boys like you – I thought – maybe it will be fun. “Thank you! I’ll survive.”

  He tossed his cup in the trash can and turned towards me. “Beautiful pearls!” Then he left.

  I stood there watching him walk away, then I looked down and saw an envelope. I picked it up. It was addressed to him with elegant hand writing. I thought of calling him back, but he had already disappeared. And now? I felt the impulse to open it, but I couldn’t go against all my principles just because of a blue-eyed beautiful guy. I would keep it until our next encounter. It could be a good excuse to talk again. I turned to go back to my very, very simpatica Valentina.

  When I got back to my office she was at my desk, touching my hand bag I’d thrown on the chair.

  “Very soft leather,” she said.

  “Yes, I bought it in an outlet near Venice. It was a wonderful bargain!”

  “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why did you move to Milan? It was for a man, right?”

  Her disregard for my privacy got on my nerves. “No, I moved to Milan to grow professionally.”

  “Sure! Maybe you even have the ambition to become a CEO…” She laughed out loud. “Are you sure you didn’t move here for some handsome Milanese?”

  I couldn’t understand why this tasteless woman had to put me through this inquisition about my personal life. If she weren’t my boss, I would have sent her to hell without a second thought.

  “No, I’m single.”

  “Single in Milan? Competition is tough here…” she said sarcastically.

  Why didn’t she mind her own business? “Well, I thought Milan would be a good place to start over…”

  “Everything is clear now! You thought that in the big city you would find more prey to have fun! I can imagine how many guys you’ll conquer with your little grandma dresses…”

  I was ready to throw the whole computer at her little blonde head. “I don’t want to find prey to have fun,” my voice was rising “I simply want to grow professionally, meet new friends – and why not? – one day maybe find a guy with whom to share all this. Is that enough for you?” I was going to lose my temper. I felt angry and hurt, but to start crying in front of my new colleagues on my first day of work would not have been a good start.

  “Oh, you are so romantic! Love, Love, Love.”

  I didn’t understand why she kept provoking me. I couldn’t see her objective. Did she want to make a fool of me in front of everybody so I would run away? Undermine my already fragile self-confidence to show she was powerful? I tried to breathe and calm myself.

  Now she was saying, “You really are a naïve provincial girl. Do you think you’ll find your Prince Charming? Men are all assholes. You don’t know how many grooms I find – organizing weddings – who want to take me to bed!”

  “Well, good. I see, a wedding planner who sacrifices herself for the cause! May I go back to work now?” I had to end that painful conversation.

  “Yes, that’s why you’re here, honey.” Fuck you – I thought. “You can start to study these…” she added, pointing to some fat files. Then she moved on to harass someone else.

  While trying to focus on the boring files, I remembered Etienne’s letter. I was extremely curious. I noticed it was open… Could I give at least a quick glance? I was conflicted. Maybe it was something very important and I had to return it as soon as possible. I was ready to put it back, when the light letter slipped out. It was written in French, my second language. Destiny had chosen for me. I had to read it. Two lines were enough to understand that it was a declaration of love. It ended with, do you want to marry me, Etienne? Yours, Juliette.

  I was embarrassed. My young blue-eyed man was engaged! Maybe he was going to marry soon. I felt a strange sensation, as if I were somehow involved. Why did I feel that I needed to do something about it? Why did I think I knew Etienne’s answer? I couldn’t stop thinking of those passionate words. I had a weird feeling and felt my heart in my throat.

  At that point the bitch came back to my desk. “Do you think we pay you to attend to your own business?”

  I blushed, feeling guilty. “Sorry… I’ll go back to work right now.”

  “Listen darling, I don’t know what you were used to in your humid, wet, provincial town, but here we work seriously. If I tell you to do something, you must do it and right away!” She stared at me with small, evil
eyes etched with crow’s feet. Then she returned to her desk and I couldn’t help sticking out my tongue at her back as she walked away.

  *

  I needed to hear a friendly voice and tell someone about this ironic turn my life was taking. I called Emma.

  “Hi, do you have a few minutes?”

  “Hi Coco! How is it going?”

  “Well, I wanted to talk to you about something. They assigned me to organize weddings!”

  “What?” Emma started laughing. “I can’t see you organizing wedding receptions! Did you tell them about your performance at my cousin’s wedding?”

  “When I stumbled into the table where the five-layered cake was placed and it fell on the floor? I don’t think it’s funny.”

  “You should have told your boss! It was an incredibly funny scene. My Australian relatives still remember it. In every e-mail they send me, they always ask me about you.”

  “See, I’m a disaster. How can I be a wedding planner?”

  “Coco, I think you are taking it too seriously. It’s just work! Perhaps your karma is saying something to you. Helping other women to organize their dream day might help you to believe in love again.”

  “Speaking of love, I did a horrible thing… Emma, I read a letter addressed to another person.”

  “You? Miss Privacy is sacred?”

  “Umm, yes. It was by chance… There is this very handsome guy who works as the errand boy and his letter fell into my hands… I didn’t want to read it! Believe me…”

  “Sure, I suppose so…”

  “It was a love letter. So straightforward and passionate. I never would have the courage to say or write something like this to a man.”

  “I know, because you lack self-confidence.”

  “It’s true. I would like to learn how to be more confident, less worried about everything. Is there a secret for this?”

  “Yes! Just live in the present. Take what life gives and try to relax!”

  I adored Emma. She was always able to cheer me up… and she was often right, like this time. Yes, what did I have to lose? I lived in Milan, had a job in a prestigious agency and had a wonderful friend. I was lucky and I should repeat this to myself every day. I needed to trust myself in spite of Niccolò, Anna, Valentina and whomever future bad guy I might stumble upon…

  “Thank you, Emma. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Coco. Remember I will always be here for you.”

  *

  It was lunch time, but I wasn’t hungry at all. I couldn’t swallow a peanut! I decided to have a pineapple juice and just walk around the nearby neighbourhood. The city was full of people rushing, cars racing by, crowds waiting at bus stops, young people in line at counters in bars just to get a quick sandwich. It was so different from the relaxed Venetian pace.

  While I was walking back to the office, I noticed an old couple sitting on a bench. He caressed her hand, while his wife smiled and talked animatedly. I stopped to look at them for a moment. They were beautiful. They looked like two adolescents. I wondered how long they had been together. I felt touched, and the tears I had to hold back all morning, gushed out. This was the kind of love I was looking for and maybe I would never find. I dried my eyes with a handkerchief and entered the office building. I went straight to the bathroom to fix my make-up and thought of Niccolò. What would he have thought seeing me like this? He, who imagined that I was so strong and determined? Then I realized I really had to stop thinking about him. Stop asking myself what he would think or what he would say… I had to forget him, cancel all thoughts of him. He loved another woman; never loved me. Let’s move on, Coco!

  I needed to stop looking back at my disastrous past, stop obsessively analyzing my faults. I wanted to look ahead. If my karma was testing me, I wouldn’t give up. Was it asking me to organize wedding receptions? Well, I was ready for it. I will become the queen of wedding planners! I had cried enough. It was time to stop. Furthermore, crying makes you wrinkled and I couldn’t afford it. Nature gives you the face you have at twenty; it is up to you to merit the face you have at fifty. Another Mademoiselle Coco truth, and I wanted to get to fifty, beautiful and self-accomplished. I will make it.

  4

  My Sheath Dress

  My first weeks at work were frantic and exhausting. I was shocked by the quantity of things I had to learn. I thought that a few basics were enough: a beautiful off-white dress (pure white is out of date), two white gold wedding rings (yellow gold is out of date too), a little old church in the countryside (pastoral style is very chic) and a restaurant, that actually is not really a restaurant. The reception must be on a lake, or a Caribbean beach, or on the roof top of a palace (the more it’s a non-restaurant, the better). But most of all, we needed a groom who wouldn’t flee on the morning of the wedding!

  I was in my training phase and I carefully followed all the instructions of my tutor, the very nice Valentina, who didn’t miss a chance to let me know how slow, lazy, unprepared, etcetera, I was. I had been assigned to a reception for about fifty guests, in a small villa near Milan, and I was trying to do my best.

  When I got home in the evening, I was wiped out, with a migraine and my stomach in knots.

  Once in a while, I knocked on Claudio’s door to have a beer with him and talk before dinner. We were both still looking for the great love. While I was giving up, he continued to hope. He believed in destiny and knew that the woman he was looking for would come, sooner or later. He didn’t rush. Sometimes, when he felt especially lonely, he found consolation in the arms of the occasional lover. Instead, I was still convinced that in losing Niccolò I had lost the best and only chance of love in my life. I struggled to believe something new and beautiful would ever happen again to me.

  When Claudio pushed me to make an effort, to introduce myself, to flirt with some nice guy, I always found them uninteresting: too imperfect, too boring, too ugly or too stupid. Perhaps it was too early to jump into a new relationship.

  One evening we were drinking at a bar, and had invited Emma to join us. We’d already had our second glass of wine, when a guy approached our table and asked me if we had met before somewhere. He was handsome, with dark hair, and wore trendy glasses. I didn’t think I had met him before, but Emma insisted on inviting him to our table. He was very kind and offered us another glass of wine (my third on an empty stomach!). His name was Marco; he was a dentist. Finally, we discovered that we had met before at a medical convention organized by my Venice agency. He remembered how I dressed and told me he liked my style. I felt gratified: I knew that following Coco Chanel’s advice wasn’t a mistake.

  We chatted all evening, ordering more wine and also food – most of all so I wouldn’t pass out! Marco was nice, brilliant and sweet. He showered me with compliments and – I confess – I didn’t dislike it.

  Emma and Claudio, seeing me so relaxed, found an excuse to leave us alone, and suddenly they disappeared. I hadn’t felt so carefree in ages, and so kept talking to Marco for a couple of hours. Then we decided to take a walk. It was a beautiful and warm evening; the neighbourhood of Porta Romana was filled with people strolling.

  We walked with no particular destination, talking about our lives. Nothing too deep. He told me about some of his funnier patients, of their terror of opening their mouths, of the smiles of toothless little children that made him cheerful. I talked about my new job, about that time I ruined Emma’s cousin’s wedding party, my habit of reading my horoscope and that of the people I know, and even about my shoe collection. It was relaxing to walk and talk with a stranger who didn’t know anything about me. I forgot my sleepless nights and my tears.

  Near the old Spanish wall that surrounds Milan, Marco gently placed his hands on my hips, pulled me closer, and kissed me. I was lost in that kiss, and found myself lightly biting a stranger’s lips in the middle of a warm Milanese night.

  I wanted to be happy again, beautiful and courted. So I closed my eyes and we continued to kiss, until he whispered in
my ear, “your place?”

  I looked into his eyes, trying to establish whether I really wanted to make love to him. I had suffered so much for a man – maybe now I should take more time in the dating phase before giving myself to the next man. I wanted to be desired, I wanted sex to be more than just a workout to burn off the cocktail calories.

  “I’m sorry, Marco, but I think this is all happening too fast.”

  “I understand, but it’s your fault: you’re so beautiful and sexy. I can’t resist you!” It was a well-known and dated strategy, but always effective.

  “Thank you for the compliment, but I have just gotten out of a difficult year-long relationship. I need time. I think I wouldn’t feel at ease if we went to bed together tonight.”

  “Yes, I completely understand, but believe me, I would do everything to make you feel comfortable. I like you. I like the way you move, your lightness, and I feel you like me too. Why not take this night to enjoy each other as a gift?

  Maybe he was right. I should let myself go. I was a woman in my thirties, not a kid, and I lived in a big city: what kept me from having some healthy sex with a nice guy I just met? Why not?

  “Uhmm… we could…”

  “Fantastic!” he said, embracing me and kissing on the neck, “also because I’m not sure when I will have another night of freedom.”

  “Why?”

  “My wife is on vacation with the kids at my in-laws’ house on the lake. An entire night for myself doesn’t happen often – believe me!”

  He had a wife. And here he was messing around Milan, shameless, looking for Miss Goodbar!

  “Oh – so you are married?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your wedding ring?”

  “Ah… I took it off to play tennis. I must had left it in my bag… It’s not a problem, right?”

  He talked as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Of course it was a problem! Why couldn’t I find a man available for me and only for me? The man I had almost married betrayed me with a fat whale! And then the man I loved preferred a younger blonde skinny girl to me. Now, my first prospective lover in Milan was married with children. I was tired of always being the woman filling in the cracks. I was tired of being the second choice, the woman of last resort. I wanted to be number one!