Miss Manners (8 page)

Suddenly, I was blinded by a flash of bright white light. After blinking twice, I realised that Olivia had just taken each of our pictures.

‘It’s for your ID cards. Between the cameras and the cards, they know what everyone’s doing.’

‘
Cameras?’ I asked worriedly.

‘
Yep. They’re everywhere around here, just so you know. They’ve had some major problems with people stealing stuff, the clothes and jewellery called in for shoots; it seems the interns and even the editors can’t help themselves. One intern even went so low as to steal perfume samples from the restroom. Can you believe that?’

‘
So, what happened next?’ I asked uneasily.

‘
She
was fired,’ she said sternly. ‘So now they track everyone.’

‘
Track?’ I asked. It was all starting to feel very
Big Brother
-esque.

‘
Well, I don’t think they actually look at the cameras unless something’s missing, but the cards tell everything. Like every time you swipe it downstairs to get past the security desk, or on the floor to get in the door, they know where you are.’

Oh, crap.
I
went ‘so low as to steal perfume samples from the restroom’. What was I going to do? Risk getting fired? I don’t think so. Although it was only an internship, this was the first proper job I’d ever had. I had to replace them before anyone noticed they were missing.

‘
So, anyway. We’ve come to the end of the Cou-
tour
. Cou-
tour
, get it?’ Olivia laughed at her own joke, which is one of the things comedians are told never to do. ‘Any final questions before I split you all up?’

‘
When do we get our ID cards?’ asked Sophie.

‘
Your ID cards should be ready for pick-up by the end of the day. You’ll need to meet me at reception at five for collection. Any more questions?’

There was a short silence.

‘Okay,’ she continued. ‘In that case, I’ll take each of you to your allocated departments: Sophie to features, Henry to events and Anna to fashion. Please follow me.’

Once Sophie and Henry were dropped off, I finally found myself in
the fashion department.

‘
I’m going to go and find Lara Gold for you to meet,’ she reported.

Almost as quickly as Olivia departed behind the glass than a coltish figure appeared.
A tall, svelte and stylish woman extended an elegant hand. ‘Hi. I’m Lara Gold, as you’re probably already aware. Welcome to the
Couture
fashion department, where you will be working for the next two weeks,’ she said, stressing the word ‘fashion’, then gestured towards the vast office behind her; a wide open space of huge windows and streaming bright light filled with desks and busy staff. The sounds of conversations, ringing telephones and clacking heels filled my ears.

I felt comfortable enough to claim one of the uncomfortable black chairs behind her. And it was then I noticed she was watching me intently, mentally noting my lack of style and my attempts at grace and propriety with what seemed like amusement. I felt like a museum exhibit.

‘You’re sitting in my chair,’ she said, clasping her hands tightly.

I removed my bottom immediately.

‘Don’t worry. It’s a common mistake to make on a first day.’

Great, two whole weeks of this
, I thought to myself, trying hard to suppress the image of me throwing her out of one of the large open windows.

‘
Now, today I have a very special assignment for you,’ she announced, avoiding eye contact. ‘We have a celebrity photo shoot at eleven thirty. Features are doing a two-page spread on her. So, I want you to do the following: take notes.’

‘
On what?’ I asked, feeling slightly intimidated.

‘
Everything. The way she walks. The way she talks. The way she sits. The way she stands. The way she breathes.’

There was a silence.

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘
The celebrity.’

‘
Who’s the celebrity?’

Lara sighed deeply, as though I had asked her whether the
earth was round. ‘Pinkie Mortimer.’

Pinkie?
! Seriously, this had to be some kind of set-up or something. There was no way I was going to pander to her every desire. Again.

‘
But right now,’ she continued, ‘I want you to follow me.’

So far, all I had done was follow people about like a
lemming. As I was led through the fashion department, all heads turned to gaze at me predatorily. I felt as though I were being paraded through the streets before eventually being hanged.

I knew nothing about fashion. Nor did I care. But as I arrived at the
shooting room, I suddenly felt intrigued. The room was packed with photographers, filmographers, editors, assistants, clothes rails and shoe racks. It was so crowded, I felt claustrophobic – a Fashion Tube. But before I had the chance to drink it all in, a falsetto voice came from behind.

‘
Well, well, well. What do we have here?’

I turned around to see a tall, skinny man with flawless chocolate skin in his mid
thirties flapping his hands at me. He was wearing a full beard, outrageously long false lashes, a black PVC catsuit and a pair of vertiginous heels.

An androgynous spirit who doesn
’t know whether it’s Arthur or Martha
, I thought to myself.
I mean, was it a man or a woman?

‘
New intern?’ he asked, pouting like a dying fish.

I nodded.

The she-male, or Shmale, examined me hawkishly from head to toe.

‘
OMG, darling, I’m afraid to tell you that you have no fashion sense. Shouldn’t you be in features?’

‘
Actually, yes. I should be in features. But Romilly seemed to think it would be funny if I started out in fashion instead,’ I said.

‘
I never really did understand her sense of humour.’ He gave me the twice over. ‘It’s a shame, darling. I mean, you’re not fat, you have great hair and a nice pair of legs. It’s a real waste not to show off your assets to the world.
Dommage, n’est-ce pas?
’

I don
’t like Shmale
.

‘
Never mind
my
style. What’s with the beard and heels combo?’ I replied.

‘
Welcome to the new age, darling,’ he said, his arms waving and jewellery rattling. I could imagine him appearing as the fourth member of Unklejam in their ‘What Am I Fighting For?’ music video. Before I could continue the conversation, Lara returned.

‘
I see you’ve met Danko, our fashion director,’ she said. ‘Danko will be overseeing the shoot this morning, so make sure you assist him with anything he needs doing.’

As Lara left, Danko turned towards me.
‘Follow me. I’ll give you a quick tour of the beauty and fashion closet before the shoot.’

I followed him into the
beauty closet within the studio. It was a large-ish room filled with skincare, haircare and cosmetic products stacked on shelves.

‘
This is where the beauty editor comes in to test and review the latest skincare, haircare and cosmetic products.’

We moved on to
the fashion closet directly opposite. I felt my jaw drop. It was massive. Although I never really took an interest in fashion, I suddenly felt like a kid in a candy store. It all looked so colourful and expensive.

‘
And this is the
Couture
closet. Clothes. Shoes. Handbags. Accessories. This year’s entire spring/summer haute couture collection. Chanel, Christian Louboutin, Valentino, Givenchy, Jean Paul Gaultier, Armani. It’s all here.’

There were clothes rails, shelve
s, treasure boxes and changing rooms. The stock was well organised; the clothes, shoes, sunglasses, bags, hats and jewellery were all arranged in brand order. It was full of cast-off freebies and fashion shoot leftovers. But before I could look around any further, Danko whisked me back to the studio.

A few moments later, he clapped his hands to make an announcement.

‘Listen up, everybody. Pinkie Mortimer will be arriving in T-minus twenty-five minutes. So I want to check everyone is here and ready. Hair? Check. Make-up? Check. Costumes? Check...’

As Danko was going through and ticking items off the list, I decided to check out the selection of sunglasses. I needed a disguise before Pinkie arrived. So, I picked out a pair of black Chanel s
hades, took my own glasses off and put them on. I felt like one of those French actresses who smoke Gauloises and cry a lot in between kissing Gérard Depardieu.

I tried a husky French accent
whilst looking in a full-length mirror. ‘And zen, when I was, how you say…?’

‘
Intern!’ Danko bellowed, interrupting my thoughts. ‘I need you here.’

I turned around and walked towards him.

‘Where did you get those Chanel sunglasses?’ he asked.

‘
Sunglasses rack,’ I said, hoping not to get a thrashing.

‘
Suits you, darling,’ he said, flashing a toothy grin. ‘So, I’ll put you in charge of accessories.’

I like Danko
.

I followed Danko towards the costumier, who introduced herself as Sam Mills. She was a short, plump, bespectacled woman in her mid thirties, wearing a blue cashmere top, black trousers and ankle
boots. I liked her kind green eyes that seemed to laugh. They reminded me of Grandma at Christmas, sitting by the fireplace and telling stories.

‘
So, what’s Pinkie promoting, then?’ I asked Sam.

‘
Her acting career.’

‘
Acting career? What acting career?’ I said, surprised.

‘
Do you want to hear a story?’ she said, clapping her hands excitedly.

I nodded, because I liked stories and she reminded me of Grandma.

‘Pinkie took her dog along to an audition and the casting director said the dog was a better actor than she was. Hilarious,’ Sam snorted, her chin wobbling.

Unfortunately, before I could listen to anymore
‘hilarious’ stories about Pinkie, Danko made another announcement.

‘
Listen up, everybody,’ he broadcasted. ‘I have just received news that Pinkie is in the building. So, please get to your positions.’

As everyone scuttled
away, I noticed Henry helping the photographer set up the studio lighting. Sophie was speaking passionately into her Dictaphone. Before I had a chance to walk over to Henry, Pinkie entered. She was wearing a pink dress, pink beret and pink knee-high boots. Under her arm was what I thought looked like a pig in a pink dress. I turned to Sam.

‘
What is that?’ I asked.

‘
It’s a micro-pig. It’s the latest fashion accessory and all the rage at the moment,’ Sam said.

‘
A pig? Does it have a name?’

‘
Tootsie.’

So, a micro-dog called Tinkerbell and a micro-pig called Tootsie. What next? A micro-monkey called Babu?

Pinkie was installed at the interview station, where she met with the features editor and Sophie before sitting down to start the interview. Ten minutes later, she stood up.

‘
Interview over!’ Pinkie commanded. Next, she joined the photographer and Henry in the studio. Pinkie pursed her pink-lipsticked lips and blew a series of raspberries. Everyone stared at her, confused looks washing over their faces.

‘
It’s good for plumping lips up. Oh, and you’d better not forget to mention,’ Pinkie ordered, pausing between farting noises, ‘what a deeply spiritual person I am.’ Then she walked over to hair and make-up and sat down.

‘
Quick, pass me the pink feather boa in the accessories box,’ said Sam in a panic.

Whilst Pinkie posed, I was ordered to hand, pass, bring, fetch and grab for a full hour in order to
‘get the perfect picture, darling’. So much for my English literature and creative writing degree.

After a tedious hour of having to ingratiate myself with Pinkie, it was finally lunchtime. I couldn
’t wait to get out of there. I was starving. But first I had to go to the ‘restroom’ to put back all the perfumes I had
stolen
before anyone noticed they were missing. So, I clicked open the rollers on my skate shoes and glided down the hallway. I couldn’t understand why everyone wore heels around the office. Shoes should be functional, not fashionable.

Once I arrived at the restroom, I emptied my rucksack and placed all the perfumes on the counter as quickly as possible before someone walked in. As I put my rucksack back on, I glimpsed at my reflection in the mirror.
‘No pictures, darling,’ I said, attempting a French accent.