Wearing a slashed-to-the-belly-button leather dress and clunky
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platform heels. It looked like an outfit better suited to dancing on a Vegas stage than to a chic Manhattan cocktail party. It went downhill from there.
The collection was a slew of tarted-up, decolletage-displaying blouses and thigh-skimming skirts that seemed completely out of touch with what women actually wanted to wear.
"Does he think we live in L.A.?" one swan snorted without checking off any of the items on the runway sheet for future purchase.
Dressing for Dinner, the accompanying notes read, while a model pranced out in a see-through feather-trimmed negligee.
"Maybe for dining at the Playboy Mansion!" another appalled blue blood retorted.
That was enough for Mara. She checked her watch. If she didn't encounter any traffic, she would still be able to make it to Elizas show. She noticed her boss, Sam Davis, across the aisle, grimacing as a model walked out in a bra and skirt.
If she was going to do it, she'd have to do it now. Mara took a deep breath, ducked her head, and excused herself as she walked from her seat down the row and toward the exit.
She turned to look at the runway one last time and accidentally caught Sam's eye.
"Where are you going?" Sam mouthed, looking cross.
Mara shrugged. She just had to trust her instincts, and if it didn't pay off, well, her days at Hamptons were almost over anyway. There was no way she was going to miss her friend's first fashion show.
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a few technical difficulties
THE MODELS WERE ALL DRESSED AND MADE UP, AND ELIZA was touched to know how many friends she had--her makeup artist had donated his time, and so had her hairdresser. A crew from Lunch had prepared a table of appetizers, and colleagues from last summer at Seventh Circle had swiped alcohol for the pre-show party. Even the DJ had offered his services for free. There was a feeling of camaraderie in the air; the crowd was mostly made up of young people thrilled to be taking part in a real art event instead of a slick corporate presentation. She wondered where Mara was. Mara had told her she would interview Eliza before the show for the piece, but so far, her friend was nowhere to be found.
Eliza was pumped, except for one thing---on the way to her show, she had passed by Volcano and had seen Paige and Jeremy together outside the club. Paige was there to set up for Sydney's show, but why was Jeremy there with her? The two of them were in a deep, intense discussion, and Jeremy even had a hand on Paige's shoulder. The two of them looked up as Eliza drove by, and she caught both of their eyes. Jeremy looked guilty, and Paige looked annoyed. Eliza felt a stab in her stomach. So they
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were together after all. Jeremy was just waiting to get rid of her so he could go back to his former flame.
She tried to put the image out of her mind and went back to checking each model.
"You guys look terrific," Eliza said. Her vision of working-girl "uniform" glamour was really coming to life. She couldn't wait to see the audience reaction. Would they hate it? Would they love it? Did she have a future in this business?
Eliza peeked out from the side of her car. She'd asked her guests to assemble by the shore. A makeshift runway was cordoned off in the sand, and she had rented two spotlights to light the "stage." Once they were switched on, the show could begin.
She waited for the floodlights to illuminate the runway.
And waited . . .
Finally, a figure ran up from the sand. When he got closer, she recognized Se
rge, the busboy from the restaurant who'd volunteered to help with the lights.
"They won't go on. I'm not sure what's wrong." Serge shook his head.
"What?" Eliza asked.
"I tried 'em twice, checked the wires; they all looked fine. I don't know. Maybe the bulbs are busted?"
What good was staging a fashion show if the audience couldn't even see the clothes? The beach was covered in darkness, and the audience was getting restless. Eliza saw guests mingling and drinking
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