Catwalk (24 page)

Caterina and her crew have piled into Studio C for the first official House of Pashmina Catwalk team meeting. Aphro, Angora, Zeus, Lupo, and Felinez are already in the house, so we’re waiting for the rest of our team to arrive. Lupo is clicking away, taking candid shots of the Teen Style camera crew as they set up. Caterina turns away. She definitely doesn’t dig being photographed herself, so I try to put her at ease.

“Wow—how did you know about the meeting?” I greet her with glee. Naturally,
I
didn’t call to tell her about it because that’s against the reality show rules and regulations.

“That’s my job,” Caterina says matter-of-factly.

“Did you happen to catch the five o’clock news?” I ask carefully, because I know she knows
exactly
which daily edition I’m referring to.

“Oh, no,” she says, sounding genuinely sorry. “We were running around like crazy because of the shows.”

“Oh, right,” I say, embarrassed. How could I think my landlord’s induction into Smiley Wiley’s Hall of
Shame could trump coverage of Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week? “Well, I wanted to thank you for that, um, heads-up you gave me.”

Caterina stares at me blankly, pretending she didn’t hear me. Instinctively I sense that I’ve stepped on the toes of some unspoken producer protocol. That’s when it dawns on me that what she did fell outside her line of duty, so I realize I should just drop it like it’s hot.

Caterina brusquely changes the subject to fit her agenda. “Is it okay if I ask you some questions on camera before everyone comes in and the meeting starts?”

“Absolutely,” I say. Boom and the rest of the crew get the camera equipment and lighting set up pronto. Of course, I should have known Caterina was cornering me for some salacious sound bites. Sure enough, she drops the boom.

“How do you feel about Chandelier Spinelli dropping out of the Catwalk competition because of her father’s indictment?” she asks, straight-faced.

Now I feel like a kitten cornered in a bulldog pen. Ms. Lynx’s admonition rings in my ears. I decide I’d better choose my words carefully.

“I’m sorry that I won’t be getting the opportunity to compete against Chandelier Spinelli. I thought she was a worthy opponent. We, um,
I
hope that she will come back to school again soon.” I stop abruptly. As my fashion merchandising teacher says, sometimes less is more.

“What about Ice Très’s expulsion from the competition—do you think that was a fair result of his suspension?”

“All’s fair in fashion and war,” I blurt out, then shriek inside.
Just keep it Lite FM
, a voice inside warns me.

“Knock-knock!” screams Bobby Beat from the doorway. I squeal at his acknowledgment of our Catwalk code, then introduce him to Caterina and her crew.

“Can we interview you for a second?” Caterina asks him.

“Yes, ma’am!” Bobby Beat says, beaming at the prospect of being on camera, and asks if he can primp first.

“Actually, let me get a quote from you while he gets ready,” Caterina says to Lupo, and it’s obvious she has forgotten his name. This time Zeus, well, jumps in on that tip, and even explains what Lupo’s last name means.

“Why did you join the House of Pashmina?” Caterina asks Lupo candidly.

“Oh, because we have the most beautiful girls?” Lupo says, laughing goofily. He looks over at Aphro, and Caterina asks the cameraman to get a shot of Aphro arranging her folder of tear sheets and sketches for one of her jewelry classes.

Meanwhile, Bobby Beat is brimming with ideas that he can’t wait to share with me. “Omigod, SNAPS cosmetics has this new bronzing powder with a hot-pink base for highlighting the cheekbones! I think that would be so fabulously feline for the show. What do you think?”

“Bronze it is,” I agree.

“Actually, I’d like to start by bronzing
you
. We can’t have you on camera like this—not even for reality television. Honey, as far as I’m concerned, reality is something you create.”

Caterina overhears Bobby Beat’s bite and zooms right in on us. “Don’t look at us, just keep going,” she instructs us. Bobby doesn’t, well, miss a beat. He whips out his makeup kit and commands me to hold still while he touches me up. Then he starts babbling about the latest booty in the beauty biz. “Can you believe someone just bought a tube of lipstick and mascara for fourteen million dollars from H. Couture Beauty cosmetics?”

“What, what?” I ask in disbelief, but Bobby commands me to keep my mouth shut while he outlines it with Very Berry lip liner.

“The mascara casing has twenty-five hundred blue diamonds and the lipstick casing has twelve hundred pink diamonds,” Bobby claims, then puts a tissue between my lips for me to blot. “And it comes with
concierge service and complimentary lash and lip refills for one year.”

“Well, tell them my lips are available anytime,” Aphro offers.

“That’s good to know,” quips Lupo, breaking out in his goofy grin.

Bobby motions for Angora to come over for a quick fluff with his mighty brush. As soon as I notice that Felinez isn’t looking, I mouth to Bobby to offer “Miss Fifi” a lip plumping as well.

“Miss Fifi,” Bobby Beat says loudly, “could you bring your booty into my beauty booth, please?”

I shake my head at Bobby, but he doesn’t get it. He just makes a face at me like,
What
? I make a note to my fashion self to tell him later to refrain from referring to Blue Boca’s body parts.

Now some of the other team members pour into the studio. Between Lupo’s flashbulbs and Caterina’s camera crew, as Angora so rightly observes, “It feels just like Mardi Gras!”

When Nole Canoli enters with his crew, who are now my crew, Caterina and, well, her crew, really go into full-tilt boogie.

I make another note to my fashion self that I must warn all the members of my team not to gossip about other Catwalk contenders in front of Caterina and her crew. As a matter of fact, I make still another note to
add that to the Catwalk Credo, which I will circulate at our next team meeting.

When Boom sticks the microphone close to Nole’s face, he brushes imaginary lint off his black Gucci shirt, then adjusts the Prada carrier so Countess Coco’s tiny visage is visible for the camera. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nole actually knew Countess Coco’s better side for photography.

“You were close to Chandelier Spinelli, weren’t you?” Caterina asks Nole, blindsiding his, well, good and bad sides.

Nole’s cheeks turn so red, it looks like he’s having an allergic reaction to kaflamma. “Professionally we were close,” he says carefully. It’s obvious he is really struggling to distance himself from the aftershock of Chandelier’s scandal.

“Have you spoken to Chandelier since her father’s indictment?” Caterina asks him.

“Yes, I have, but that conversation is private, and I want to respect her while she is going through a difficult time,” Nole says calmly. He then smiles warmly, as if to prove to Caterina and her probing camera that he is not some pushover she can control like a Ouija board. His tactic seems to work, because Caterina backs off and asks him a more relevant question: “Who will be your designing partner for the competition?”

Nole perks up and motions for Diamond Tyler to
join him. Then he introduces her. “Diamond’s talent is truly uncut. I mean, she is brilliant but serves up humble pie. She’s sweet but salty, tender but tough when she has to be, and she can whip out outfits as sublime as a chocolate-marshmallow soufflé,” Nole says, beaming.

Angora gazes at Nole and I can tell she is also impressed with his sound bite savvy. “What’s your design philosophy?” Caterina asks Nole.

“Whatever it is I’m feeling that day,” Nole admits. “All a designer has is a personal vision, and you have to sell it to yourself first, like a sales associate at Barney’s working on straight commission, or else nobody is gonna buy it!”

All of a sudden, Kissa and Mink barge into the studio in a fit of giggles, until they spot the camera crew. I introduce them to help them adjust to the “Smile, so you won’t get Punk’d” feeling. It’s four o’clock, and at last all members of the House of Pashmina are present and accounted for. We sit down at the long conference table, and I instruct everyone that first we’re going to go around the table counterclockwise and introduce ourselves. “Tell us a little bit about your overall career goals and what your position is in the House of Pashmina.”

After the introductions, I begin the meeting. I look down at the table at all the faces staring at me and the Teen Style Network hovering in the background and
the truth of Bobby Beat’s words hits me:
Reality is something you create
. And I created this.

I snap out of my
Surreal Life
moment to begin the meeting. “Okay, everyone, to begin with, I want to welcome you to our first official Catwalk competition meeting for the House of Pashmina.”

“And we have you to thank for that,” Chintzy Colon says, breaking into her Splenda smile. Then Zeus puts his hands together to clap, and everyone else follows suit.

“Bring it, don’t fling it!” Aphro shouts out.

I grin. I love Aphro and wouldn’t want to be doing this without her, Angora, and Felinez front and center. Angora winks at me and I wink back. Even Dr. Zeus has come to mean something to me, even if it isn’t what I want it to be. I glance at Elgamela, Nole, Dame, Lupo, Liza, Diamond, Kissa, and Mink and realize how lucky I am to have snagged such five-star talent. The clapping dies down and everyone gets real quiet. I instinctively sense that everyone is waiting for me to christen our meeting, so I do just that: “By entering the prestigious Catwalk competition and committing to abide by directions from the team leader,” I announce proudly, “each of us is publicly acknowledging that we’re in for the roller-coaster ride of our young, style-driven lives. It is my duty to inform you that for the next seven
months, you will find it best to strap yourself in and fasten your Gucci seat belt.”

Nole snickers, then puts his hand over his mouth and blushes. “Sorry!” he squeals softly.

“By the same token, I humbly ask you to please call upon me or one of your Catwalk crew members to share your fears and concerns so that one of us can prick you back to reality that you are not alone. You can also feel free to reach out to me whenever an obstacle presents itself that prevents you from fulfilling any of your Catwalk duties—or whenever you simply feel like screaming your head off. If you cannot reach me at the exact moment you feel the urge to pull out your seam ripper for reasons other than deconstructing a seam, please get in touch with my assistant, Chintzy Colon. Her number, like everyone else’s, is right there on the team membership form, which I’m about to pass out. I am here to inform you that there is no one in this room who can hide in plain sight—not for the next seven months, anyway.”

Bobby Beat lets out a scream as if to demonstrate a crew member in crisis. Lupo clicks away like he’s coming to Bobby’s rescue, which causes me to grin uncontrollably.

“Now I’m going to pass around Xeroxes of the team membership forms. Each of you gets a complete set,” I
say, passing out the packets I stayed up all night copying at the Kinko’s by my house. I glance absentmindedly at Dame Leeds’s beaming face. “This way, you have contact information for each team member right at your fingertips, and you can also refer to it in case you forget a crew member’s duties—or yours, for that matter. I know the introductions were a lot to take in today.”

“Well, I can help each of you remember everything you need to know about me right now,” blurts out Dame Leeds. “I do press and curls—not pressing! So see Miss Ruthie when your wrinkles are wearing you down—the ones on the samples, that is, not on your face!”

I can see why Nole and Dame are thick as thieves—they both have endless quips on their lips. Ruthie Dragon, on the other hand? I’m still trying to decipher the connection between her and Nole. She raises her hand and waves at Dame’s joke. She is, after all, the appointed pressing person, since she is Nole and Diamond’s assistant. I still feel uneasy about having her in the mix, but I realize that every leader must make small sacrifices to accomplish the greater good.

“Now I’m going to hand out another form. It’s called the ‘I’ve Got the Hookup’ sheet,” I explain. “Each of us is bringing more to the table than meets the eye. In order to have a bird’s-eye view, I need for you to
tell me about your connections. Try to think of anything or anyone in your life that you have access to that could be useful to us as a team. As you’ll see on the form, I’ve made some categories to help you begin this process. One category is ‘People I Know Who I Don’t Realize I Know.’ Under that box, you should write everyone from your babysitter to the boot maker round your way who could possibly could be called upon for a favor that would benefit our fashion show.”

Bobby Beat raises his hand. “Now, does the person have to be a style diva?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, my mother’s best friend, Mrs. Hawkins, works at the Spanx factory right on Steinway, and I know she could probably hook us up with some tights for the show, but she herself wears these dresses that come in prints with the biggest flowers—native to the borough of Queens before the settlers took over Astoria, if you catch my drift and smell the pollen.”

One of the Teen Style Network camera crew lets out a chuckle. Obviously, Bobby was describing one of his relatives too.

“That’s a very good point you’ve brought up, Bobby. Maybe we should all acknowledge the fact that a fashionista is someone who is smart enough to judge others by something more than their outfits. And I certainly think that someone who has access to fine hosiery such
as Spanx is a person worthy of such consideration,” I say, phrasing my point carefully.

Now everyone in the room bursts out laughing.

“No, I’m serious!” I protest. “I’d certainly like to think that attending FI has already provided each of us with an insight into human behavior, even though I know most of us also show appreciation for our unique ability to accessorize by getting on our knees and thanking God every morning.”

Felinez smiles at my recognition of her true talent. “Does anyone have any more questions about the hookup list?” I ask. “Okay, so for our next meeting, I’d like each of you to have your hookup sheet ready to be handed in. After I’ve reviewed them, each team member will be given a complete master hookup list.”