George Wilkes sat in the hotel lobby, his expression slightly tense. Today was likely the day that would change his career. Everything had happened too quickly; he hadn't even had time to mentally prepare. Since arriving at the hotel, he had been caught in a prolonged state of waiting, his nerves fluctuating uncontrollably.
His peripheral vision repeatedly turned towards the entrance. The lushness of Central Park formed a graceful arc in the night, outlining the unique beauty of the city of New York. However, he couldn't bring himself to appreciate it. Then, he saw the person he was waiting for.
It was Renly.
George nervously adjusted his tie, making sure it was straight, and stood up. But his steps faltered. Standing beside Renly was none other than the renowned Tom Ford, his face brimming with enthusiasm as he engaged in lively conversation with Renly. On Renly's other side stood Eaton, a relatively unknown stylist, but to George, he was the mentor who had recognized his potential.
The group's footsteps came to a halt in the center of the hotel lobby. Tom said a few more words before turning and leaving. Renly and the others resumed walking forward. George knew his moment had come. His mind didn't have time to think; he took brisk steps forward. Breathe, breathe... he reminded himself incessantly, just breathe.
"Renly," George's call slipped out, but his voice was somewhat strained due to a tight throat, making it not particularly loud but rather hesitant.
Yet, Renly still stopped and offered a courteous gaze.
"How should I introduce myself?" George became somewhat stunned.
"This is George Wilkes," Eaton introduced simply. "He recently founded his own brand, an up-and-coming rising star."
Renly smiled, nodding in acknowledgement. But before George could greet further, Eaton continued, "Don't linger here chatting. Let's discuss things in more detail upstairs."
George closed his mouth, following behind them like a shadow as they took the elevator upstairs. The corridor was adorned with deep red carpet, quiet and tranquil, inducing an involuntary slowing of breath. However, upon entering the room, George truly felt the meaning of luxury. The living room alone was as large as half a basketball court. On the open space to his right stood four golden clothing racks, adorned with an array of suits, instantly narrowing the space.
George stood cautiously in the living room, casting a constrained glance around. Burberry, Tom Ford, Dior, Armani, Paul Smith... designs of varying tiers and styles were all present. Swiftly scanning, he couldn't spot his own design hanging anywhere. Even though he had sent them through an assistant this afternoon, they were likely hidden among the rest.
George's tension heightened. Just a glance at the clothing racks conveyed intense competition; breaking through this challenge seemed near impossible.
And it wasn't only George; Andy was equally amazed. His astonishment wasn't directed at the clothes. As Harrison Ford's agent, and as a senior agent at the Innovative Artists agency, he had witnessed grander and more elaborate scenes. What surprised him was Eaton's capability.
Renly, as an unstable newcomer, winning the favor of these big names was nearly impossible unless it was akin to Karl Lagerfeld appointing Blake Lively overnight, accomplishing a triple jump in the fashion world, a complete transformation. But at this moment, the clothes on the racks before their eyes were an unshakable reality, proving the significance of a stylist.
Purely from the perspective of the styles and designs of the clothes on the racks today, Eaton's network and capabilities seemed to surpass those of Melvin Blades. This was truly a rare occasion for Renly.
"Let's begin now. There's not much time left until midnight, and I don't want to witness a tragic transformation of the Wolf King," Eaton joked.
Renly had a penchant for sleep; this wasn't a secret.
The infamous "Boar Incident" back at Eaton Public School stemmed from dormitory supervisors conducting surprise room inspections three times the week prior, suddenly turning on all the lights at midnight and going from room to room. This irritated the sleeping Renly, resulting in a catastrophe that remained a widely-discussed legend at the school to this day.
Renly paid no mind to such teasing, walking proudly to the center of the hall, awaiting Eaton's assessment.
Eaton approached, following the Savile Street tradition, lifting Renly's hands, extending them, and then using a measuring tape to understand various dimensions of different parts in a simple manner. In addition to basic measurements, seemingly unrelated data like neck circumference, wrist, forearm, calf, were also recorded.
George glanced at Andy and Matthew, who were seated on the sofa. After a moment of hesitation, he stood on the other side of the hall, discreetly observing their work. George knew that truly top-tier bespoke suits required meticulous attention to detail, where the quality of a single aspect could impact the overall result.
Once the measurements were done, Eaton walked to the clothing racks, and began selecting carefully. "Why not start with George?" he suggested. Since the designer was present, a direct fitting and adjustments could be made, which was undoubtedly the best approach.
George immediately stepped forward, ready to begin his work. But before he could approach the racks, a knock sounded at the door. George glanced at the others in the room, hesitated for a moment, and seeing that he was closest to the entrance corridor, he spoke, "I'll get the door."
It was someone from Burberry who entered, and from their conversation, it was apparent that they were Christopher Bailey's assistant.
After a round of polite greetings, naturally, Renly started trying on Burberry clothes. The assistant stood by, using pins to adjust the fit of the garments, ensuring they presented the best effect.
Before Burberry's fitting could conclude, someone else arrived. This time it was the Marketing Director of Paul Smith's New York branch. The scene became bustling once again, and the fitting of Paul Smith's clothing followed.
George felt like an outsider. He wanted to blend in, he understood this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he knew these were insiders of the fashion industry. He understood the significance of tonight. If he could befriend these figures, his path as a designer would become much smoother. Yet, he was at a loss, not knowing where to start. He couldn't even find a way to interject, let alone engage in a seamless conversation.
As an insignificant unknown, he was like a transparent ghost, entirely devoid of presence.
After an uninterrupted series of trying on twenty-five suits, the clock had ticked past midnight's threshold, and Renly began to feel a hint of fatigue. Changing clothes was an unexpectedly physically demanding task; this was Renly's most genuine realization.
Among all the fittings just now, Tom Ford's had the best effect.
The Golden Globe Awards and the Oscars differed from each other; the former emphasized entertainment more, creating a more relaxed atmosphere. Some even graced the scene wearing motorcycle leather jackets, exuding a tremendous coolness. Male actors let loose, competing to shine just as brightly as their female counterparts.
Tom Ford's designs were more daring and contemporary, yet still retained simple lines. The tailoring of the shoulders, chest, and waist showcased the designer's inherent sensuality.
Such suits might be too ostentatious for the Oscars, but for the Golden Globe Awards, they were just right.
"Do you want to continue trying on more suits?" Eaton's hands rested on his chest as he inquired, "Or should we stop here for tonight? Continue tomorrow?"
Upon hearing this, George's heart jumped into his throat. He had been waiting here for three hours, not uttering a single word. Did this mean he had to wait until tomorrow?
Waiting was fine by him, but what if Renly decided tomorrow not to continue and just chose Tom Ford? What then? He wouldn't even have a chance to showcase himself; he'd be eliminated right away. Should he proactively step forward? What should he say to make Renly stay?
"George?" a voice called out. It carried a hoarseness due to fatigue. George raised his head abruptly and caught Renly's gaze. "Eaton is waiting for you."
George's mood soared. Right there, on the clothing rack by Eaton's side, were the suits he designed. "Of course, certainly." George briskly walked up. "These three sets are designed with you in mind, emphasizing simple lines..."
"Slow down a bit," Renly chuckled hoarsely. George suddenly realized he was speaking too quickly, too excitedly—like a machine gun. This awkward realization tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he couldn't muster a smile. "Did you just say these three outfits were inspired by me?"
Renly found this absurd. So far, he had only done two works. "The Pacific" was broadcast on pay-per-view cable, and its videotapes hadn't even been released yet, reaching a limited audience. "Buried" had a small-scale release, with a very limited number of theaters. The buzz from the news only circulated among moviegoers. After the Golden Globe nominations were announced, many people were even wondering who "Renly Hall" was.
His fame was at most on par with that of a third-tier actor. How could anyone have used him as inspiration for designs?
George's dry humor was truly commendable.
"Yes," George nodded firmly. "After watching "The Pacific", I was deeply impressed by Eugene "Sledgehammer" Sledge's character. Later, I watched the YouTube videos of your two singles and gained some inspiration. I designed these three suits specifically for you. I believe that, apart from you, no one else can truly capture the essence of these three suits."
George's eyes gleamed with excitement, sincere and resolute. This left Renly momentarily stunned, and he turned to look at Eaton.
Eaton shrugged with a cheerful smile, as if to say: My choices aren't made haphazardly.
A gentle upward curve appeared at the corners of Renly's mouth. "It's an honor for me. I'm getting quite impatient now, wanting to see what these tailor-made designs for me actually look like."