‘Elle, can you please check this?’ Zara calls out. I trot over to where she and Leo’s assistant designer, Asher, are running through final checks on our collection.
‘Show me.’
‘This belt…’ she says, sliding it around the model’s waist. ‘Buckle centred or off-centre? I know we settled on centred but…’
She’s right – it’s not quite working.
Leo and Asher join us and I feel for the poor model – minutes to go and the four of us are fixated on her mid-section. A pro, she stands completely still, her posture flawless.
‘What do you think?’ I ask Leo.
He adjusts the position of the buckle and steps back. ‘Like this. Now it offsets the asymmetrical lapel.’
‘Yes, perfect.’
‘Great catch, Zara, thanks,’ Leo says. ‘Not sure why we didn’t see that before.’
‘Two minutes,’ says the back-of-house caller. ‘Models, places please.’
The twenty-four models shuffle over to a long piece of fluorescent-pink gaffer tape that’s stuck to the floor, forming a line.
Juju, who’s wearing our final look, shoots me a grin. We were lucky to book them – since Paris, they have juggernauted right into the supermodel sphere.
And speaking of supermodels, at the head of the line is supermodel-in-the-making, Penny-Jean. She’s tipped to replace Franzia, who recently fell from grace when her horrid behaviour made headlines across the world. Penny-Jean is a twenty-year-old Iowa farm-girl with pin-straight, natural blonde hair to her waist, a round freckled face and the largest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. She looks absolutely stunning in head-to-toe coral – a fitted scooped-neck, nipped-waisted top and full skirt combination in raw silk, with a pillbox hat in turquoise felt and vegan leather heels to match.
We’re bringing back the hat! Or at least we’re hoping to. Fingers, toes, eyes, and all other crossable body parts crossed.
I’m also wearing the same shoes as she is. Leo, total genius that he is, has accomplished the impossible: a high heel that is not just sexy but so unbelievably comfortable, I prefer them to my trainers. I have them in every colour imaginable. They were popular before we joined forces and now they’re flying off the shelves almost faster than the factory can make them! Other designers keep pestering him for his trade secret. But we’ll never tell.
As my eyes scan the looks, I swell with pride. It has been an intense six months getting this collection ready: design teams working in tandem, long hours, and lots of what Leo calls ‘hustle’.
Leo exhales a loud breath as he takes his place beside me and entwines his fingers in mine. ‘Ready?’ I ask him, my shoulders shimmying with excitement.
If you’d told me a year ago I’d be standing here at New York Fashion week, about to show with Leo, I’d have laughed long and hard.
‘Sweetheart, I have never been more anxious about anything in my entire life. Except maybe this,’ he says, raising my left hand where a solitaire diamond on a simple gold band catches the light.
I laugh softly. ‘You never told me that. Why were you anxious about proposing? You knew I’d say yes.’
He shakes his head. ‘But that’s the thing. I couldn’t fathom why such a sweet, beautiful, talented woman like you would ever say yes to someone like me. Every day, I pinch myself that you did.’
I turn towards him and capture his chin in my hand. ‘You listen to me, Leo “Lorenzo” Jones Campbell, you may have too many names, but you are not just anyone. You are the love of my life and I wouldn’t want to do any of this without you – and I mean all of it – the designing, the travel, the life we’re building together – everything. You got that?’
He nods and I draw his face closer to land a kiss. ‘Now, shush, because it’s about to start.’
He chuckles good-naturedly and slings an arm around my shoulder right as the house lights dim and the chattering audience hushes.
This is it.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, from Bliss Designs and Lorenzo, presenting “The Mile High Club”,’ says the announcer. When she’s cued, Penny-Jean walks out into the bright lights of the catwalk, her chin high and looking like perfection.
