Coco Chanel Saved My Life (6 page)

“I deliver any kind of packages: large, small, huge, heavy and light,” he smiled and kept staring at me with his magnetic look.

Finally, we arrived at the second floor and he led me to the director's office.

“You are really pretty when you walk without stumbling,” he caught me by surprise and I blushed up to my ears.

“Thank you… Believe me, I usually don't fall into the arms of strangers.” I said staring down at my feet to avoid his gaze.

He knocked lightly on Mr Parisi's door, but didn't wait for an answer to enter. “
C'est moi
!”

I was right – he was French!

“Come in,” a young voice said. They seem to know each other very well.

I expected the typical, predictable boss: a distinguished man in his fifties, with a navy suit, a boring tie, and elegant shoes. On the contrary, on the other side of the desk I saw a smiling young man about my age, wearing jeans and a
Clash
t-shirt.

“I brought the documents you were looking for,” the errand boy said confidently, “and then I found a new hire on the elevator.”

Both of them smiled warmly at me.

“You must be our new resource from Venice,” he said, inviting me to sit.

“My name is Rebecca Bruni.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Rebecca. If you don't mind, we can be informal…”

“Sure,” I always felt a little uncomfortable using a formal tone with people my age.

“Thank you, Etienne,” he addressed the man who had just placed the box on his desk.

“Well, I'll leave you two alone now,” he said heading to the door. “Hope to meet you again, Rebecca – maybe in the elevator.” His look was full of irony.

I smiled shyly at him. As soon as he left, Paolo looked at me for a moment and said: “So you have worked at
One
for about five years, organizing scientific-medical conventions.”

“Correct.”

“All positions are filled in our conventions division, but, as we discussed with the Venice agency, there are other positions open.”

“Yes, I've been informed of this. I would like to try working at different kinds of events.”

“Good! I like people who love change. Your new position will be in a division that we only recently opened, and we're very excited about it and proud of it. Your work will be organizing wedding receptions.”

Weddings! It must have been a big misunderstanding. I didn't know anything about weddings! I knew only that they were very expensive and boring parties, organized in historical villas with little gravel paths that ruined my heels, where I always met relatives that I hated meeting, who always asked me: “And you, Rebecca? When will you marry?” I had never liked weddings and now – single with a broken heart – I liked them even less. I didn't think I was the right person to help some corny couples in love realize their dream.

“Weddings?” I asked with a puzzled tone. “I thought, hoped, you would have assigned me to organize fashion events, boutique openings, art gallery exhibitions…”

“At the moment all other positions are filled. We really need new creative people for our new exciting adventure: the weddings division.”

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn't the right work for me. I could do any kind of thing, even organize dogs' beauty contests, but not weddings. No way. I detested brides, sugary music, wedding cakes full of calories and lace and chiffon dresses. But most of all, I didn't want to work in the name of love. I hated love.

“Listen, Paolo… May I call you Paolo?”

“Sure, Rebecca,”

“I'm sorry but I don't think I'm the right person for organizing weddings events. I never married and my parents divorced when I was a kid. I don't think I have any feeling for wedding parties. In addition, I am single.”

“Don't worry Rebecca, at the beginning you'll be led through the process by a colleague who will explain everything you need to know: music, cakes, wedding rings, white doves and flowers. She will train you until you are ready to be on your own. We'll make you the best wedding planner on the scene.”

He smiled and stood up to signal that our conversation was finished. So I had to organize wedding receptions. In fact, I would become the best wedding planner in Italy, more, in the entire world! I felt a slight sense of vertigo.

Paolo led me to the door and explained where the office was of the person who would introduce me to the joys of weddings. He shook my hand: “Welcome Rebecca.
Every day will be an event
.” He quoted the ad that made the agency famous.

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.”