Catwalk (11 page)

“Actually, Paige Adams-Geller did have anorexia,” Paige informs me as she touches up her lip gloss.

“Oh…” I’m not sure how to respond to this.

“But maybe that would be a good angle,” Paige says slowly. “You could be right, Erin. Maybe that would appeal to viewers who are trying to get a grip on their own appearance. I mean, it’s a fact that not everyone can look like a model.”

“I can vouch for that,” I say.

“And we need to let them know that’s okay.”

I try not to roll my eyes at the idea of Paige Forrester “kindly” telling her viewers that it’s okay that they’re not as beautiful as, say, Paige Forrester.

“I think that’s how I’ll direct this interview,” she says as we’re getting out of the town car.

And that’s just what she does. But to my relief, the other Paige handles it beautifully. She takes no offense at some of Paige’s less-than-sensitive comments and questions and, when we’re wrapping it up, I step up and shake her hand.

“I really appreciate your honesty,” I tell her. “I know that
I get fed up with the idea that everyone needs to be skinny to look good in clothes. And you prove that’s wrong. I wish we had more people in the fashion industry who were willing to take your position.”

“Thanks, Erin.” She looks at me. “And I think I’ve got a few pairs of jeans that you might like to try out.”

“Really?”

She nods to her assistant. “Get her size and her address and see that she’s sent a good selection, okay?”

Once we’re back in the car, Fran informs me that the cameras were still running while I was talking to Paige Adams-Geller.

“They were?” I frown in disappointment.

“And I’m glad they were. I plan to encourage the editors to include that bit. Our viewers need to hear you saying what you said. They’ll relate.” Fran’s making a note. “Also, we need to put our people in touch with Paige Premium Denim to see about running an ad.”

“Oh, great,” Paige says with sarcasm. “Now we’ll have jean ads on our show.”

I make a face at my sister. “Yeah, and that would be worse than, say, tampon ads? Get over yourself, Paige!”

On Thursday morning, we are invited back
to
Good Morning America
, and our interviewer is Diane Sawyer. And this time Paige doesn’t make a fool of herself. Instead, she talks with confidence and expertise about our TV show and how we’ll be covering Fashion Week. And I just sit there like a prop.

“But what about you, little sister?” Diane directs this question to me. “What’s your role in this new show?”

“I’m the camera girl,” I say awkwardly. “I sort of just hang out with my camera and pretend to be interested in fashion.”

Diane laughs. “Pretend? You mean you’re not?”

I’m thinking
oops.
“Uh, yes, I’m a little interested. But Paige is the fashion expert. I’m more into the filming side of things.”

“You sound like my husband.”

“Oh, yeah!” I say suddenly. “You’re married to Mike Nichols, right? I am such a fan of his. He’s brilliant!”

She smiles patiently. “I’ll pass that along to him.”

“You see, I was taking film and TV at UCLA, but I dropped out to do this show, which was a great opportunity…”

She nods. “Absolutely. Few lessons in the classroom can compare to hands-on field experience.” She turns back to Paige now. “Well, I wish you luck with your new show and enjoy Fashion Week and New York.”

“Thank you!” Paige beams toward the camera. “I’m enjoying it already.”

“And I’m glad to see you recovered from last week’s security debacle.”

“Yes. That’s something I definitely want to put behind me.”

And that’s it. They go to break, Diane thanks us, our mics are removed, and we are quickly ushered out.

“You
pretend
to be interested in fashion?” Paige hisses at me once we’re outside of the studio.

Fran laughs. “Hey, it was honest, Paige. Give the girl a break. Plus, you’ve got to hand it to Erin…she recovered quickly.”

“It might’ve been honest, but it sounded totally lame.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I control myself from saying that Paige sounded just as lame when she told Diane about appearing on
Malibu Beach
, like that was something to brag about.

We return to the hotel for breakfast, followed by a meeting in our room with Fran and the camera crew as we go over the itinerary for the next several days. It seems that some of the designers have now sent press passes for some of the shows that Paige and I already have seats for. So now Fran wants to set it up to film.

“Considering how late we came into this game, we are seeing a fair amount of action,” she says as we’re wrapping it up. “All those interviews at the design studios really warmed up the waters.”

“Talk about mixing your metaphors,” JJ—one of the camera guys—teases her.

Fran scowls at him. “Now you and Alistair better figure out a way to decide who gets to go to which show. Flip a coin if necessary.”

Paige focuses in on Luis and Shauna, our hair and makeup people. “And you guys will come to our hotel three hours before every fashion show, right?”

“You got it,” Luis promises. “Earlier if you like. This place is way nicer than the fleabag motel we’re staying at over in New Jersey.”

“Three hours before the shows will be plenty of time,” Fran assures Paige. “Bryant Park is only a few blocks from here. Even if traffic is a mess, which is likely, we can always walk there in less than twenty minutes.”

“What if it’s raining?” Paige demands.

“We’ll use umbrellas,” I suggest.

Paige just glares at me.

“We’ll figure something out,” Fran promises. “Don’t worry.”

“And if it’s raining,” I point out, “we won’t be the only ones who are wet.”

“Speak for yourself,” she tells me. “I do not plan to show up looking like a drowned rat.”

“Speaking of bad looks,” Luis teases, “nothing can beat that look you had going on at the first
Good Morning America
last week. We watched while we were stuck in O’Hare and enjoyed a good hard laugh.”

“Thanks a lot.” Paige makes a face. “So compassionate.”

“Hey, we needed a laugh,” says JJ.

“At least your cheek is back to normal,” Shauna tells Paige. “We won’t need the extra coverage makeup anymore.”

“Quiet, everyone,” Fran is telling us. She’s on the phone, probably to Helen. “What, can you repeat that?” She waits
and listens. “Oh, that’s fantastic. Yes, absolutely. I’ll call them right away and get it set. Yes, have Sabrina email their numbers. Great.” She puts down her phone now and beams at us. “Guess who wants you girls on their shows?”

“Shows?” Paige says hopefully. “As in more than one?”

Fran nods. “Producers from both the
Today
Show and
Live with Regis and Kelly
have contacted Helen about interviewing you during Fashion Week. Isn’t that great?”

So we sit back down again, and with everyone there, we go over our schedule, waiting as Fran puts in calls to the producers. It’s starting to look like next week is going to be crazy-busy. But that’s why we’re here.

On Friday morning we first do
The Early Show
, which is even earlier than
GMA
was yesterday. And after that we do the
Today
Show with Kathie Lee and Hoda Kotb, and they turn out to be pretty laid back and a lot of fun. They even invite Paige to critique their outfits and, thankfully, she doesn’t say anything too mean or offensive. Mostly it’s just humorous. Then, as we’re heading back to the hotel in the town car, Paige gets a phone call. “It’s Taylor Mitchell,” she happily announces as she reads the caller ID.

“Hey, Taylor,” she says. “What’s up?” She waits and listens. “Really? That is awesome.” She pauses again, this time for several minutes. “Yes, I think we can fit it in. Let me check with the powers that be and get back to you ASAP, okay?”

“What’s happening?” Fran asks after Paige hangs up.

“Taylor got us tickets to Ralph Lauren
and
an interview with him, if we wait until after his show, which is Saturday night.”

“Awesome!” Fran gives Paige a high five.

“What’s the hitch?” I ask.

“Taylor wants us to meet her designer friend. She’s actually a student at FIT.”

“F-I-T?” I question. “As in fit?”

“As in Fashion Institute of Technology,” Paige tells me.

“Right.” I guess I should’ve seen that one coming.

“Anyway, her friend’s name is Rhiannon and she’s interning for a no-name designer, but according to Taylor, Rhiannon has real talent.”

“But if she’s not really a designer,” I begin slowly, “and just an intern attending FIT…what will you interview her about?”

“I’m not really sure yet, but maybe we can find an angle.” Paige frowns a little. “Taylor said the main reason she wants to do this is because Rhiannon is a good friend and she’s been through some pretty tough times recently. Apparently her mom died before Christmas. Tragically, Taylor said, but she didn’t go into details. Anyway, Rhiannon is depressed and Taylor thought an interview on our show might boost her spirits.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Fran says suddenly. “The angle is young creative hopefuls who are getting ready to work in the design world and what it takes to get them there. We can do a show following the Oscars Red Carpet show about this very thing. Maybe Rhiannon will know some other young designers to introduce us to, and maybe we can pick up some more back in LA.”

“I like that,” I say. “It might be inspiring to that viewer who’s watching our show and maybe she thinks she’d like to get into design herself.” I make a face at Paige. “Because
not everyone
is cut out to be a model.”

Paige shrugs this off.

“But Erin is right. We need to expand the market and pull in as many viewers as possible, Paige. And a lot of girls are into design. We need to reach them too. Every fashion designer has to start somewhere. They aren’t born as Marc Jacobs or Kate Spade—they work up to it.”

Paige nods. “You’re right. I think I could run with this. And it could make an interesting show.” So she calls Taylor for Rhiannon’s number, and then makes arrangements with Rhiannon to pop in on Monday morning. “I just want to meet you,” Paige casually tells her after she introduces herself as a “friend of Taylor’s” without giving her name. “And I’d like to see some of your designs and who knows…?” Then she thanks her and says she’ll see her next week.

“Does Rhiannon even get that this is a TV show?” I ask after Paige puts her phone away. The town car pulls up to the hotel entrance and the doorman is helping us out.

“No, I thought we could just surprise her with that.”

“She’ll still have to sign the waiver forms and everything,” Fran says as we go into the lobby.

“We’ll figure that out when the time comes.”

We’re just inside our suite when Paige’s phone rings again. And this time she’s even more excited. Sure, her voice is controlled and professional, but I can see her eyes glittering as she listens. “Yes, thank you,” she says finally. “I’m looking forward to it. Yes, see you then. Thanks.” Then she closes her phone and grabs me, letting out a squeal that makes my ears ring, and I’m wondering if security will be on their way up here.

“That was Dylan’s assistant!”

“And?” I wait.

“And I’ve been invited to the
after party.
”

“The after party?” I question. “After what?”

“After the show, you moron!”

“Wow.” Fran nods as if this really is impressive. “Just you?”

“Sorry, that’s all she said.”

“That’s okay,” I say quickly. “I’m not into
after parties
anyway.”

“Well, maybe I am.” Fran frowns.

“I’m sorry, Fran.” Paige puts her hand on Fran’s shoulder. “You want me to call back and see if—”

“No, don’t make me any more pathetic than I already sound.” Fran laughs. “Good grief, I’ll probably be fast asleep, and glad of it, by the time that party kicks into high gear.”

“Me too.” I nod.

“Not me,” Paige grins as she dances around the living room of our suite. “I’m going to be having the time of my life.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?” I say. “I mean, you won’t drink or anything, will you?”

“
Moi?
” She flutters her long eyelashes at me.

“Paige.
” I put the warning in my voice and realize I sound a little like Mom.

“Oh, come on, one eensie-weensie-teensie glass of champagne won’t hurt anything, will it?”

Fran frowns. “Paige,” she says sternly, “Helen Hudson will have my head on a platter if you pull a Lindsay on us.”

“Hey, Lindsay’s doing okay these days.”

“Yes, whatever. You know what I mean, Paige.”

Paige holds her head high. “I plan to be very grown-up tonight.”

“That’s what worries me.” Fran frowns at me now, like this is somehow my fault. “Erin, what would your mother say?”

I just shrug and suddenly feel tired. I wonder how I can sneak off to my bed to catch a few more winks, since we’ve
been up since around five thirty and it’s nearly one in the afternoon now.

“Well, I may not be your mother, but I know what I’m saying about this.” It sounds like Fran is making an ultimatum and I pause to hear it.

“What?
” Paige puts her hands on her hips with a worried brow.

“If you go, Erin goes.”

“Wait a minute.” I hold up my hands. “I don’t want to—”

“This is about work, Erin. And you signed on with Paige to—”

“Why don’t you go instead?” I plead.

Fran just laughs. “Yes, I’m sure they want to see an almost forty-year-old woman coming to—”

“You’re almost forty?” Paige looks stunned.

“Well, I…uh, I exaggerated. Even so, if you go, Erin goes too, Paige. Do you understand?”

“But I?—”

“Don’t forget you’re under contract.” Fran holds her pointer finger out.

“But they didn’t invite Erin.
” Paige’s voice is whiny now and she looks like she’s about to go into pout mode.

“You’re a smart girl. You know how these things work,” Fran assures her. “It’s not who you are, but who you know. Dylan wants you there, Erin is your sister. Trust me, they’ll let her in too.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say. It’s bad enough being forced to attend a party you don’t want to, but to feel like you’re extra baggage as well? Give me a break.

“And if they don’t let Erin in, you’d better turn around and come back here ASAP,” Fran tells her.

“If Erin
has
to come, she needs to look stylish. No way am I dragging in Camera Girl tonight. Forget it.”

“I’m sure we can manage that.” Fran is checking her phone now. “With all the clothes we’re gathering up here, I think we might even be able to make me look stylish.”

“You do look stylish,” I tell her.

Fran smiles and thanks me, then tells me to hush as she says, “Hello, Helen. What’s up?” Then she goes into a conversation about this week’s film and edits and technical things that should interest me, and usually do, except that I feel like I’m falling asleep. And considering I might have a late night to look forward to, I’m going to really need this nap.