Tonight, when Anson stepped onto the red carpet at the Shrine Auditorium, the buzz was all about his encounter with Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt. Anson not only held his own against them but even outshone Brad with his witty, humorous, and mysteriously cool deanor. It was undoubtedly a major spectacle.
However, the fashion community was more intrigued by one question: Where did Anson's suit co from?
Dior.
This was a surprising na. Even the most seasoned and professional fashion experts hadn't anticipated it—so surprising, in fact, that it seed almost absurd.
Instinctively, they took a step back to reassess Anson, and nearly every fashion expert had the sa reaction upon hearing the answer.
Suddenly, everything made sense:
Much like his appearance in *GQ* magazine, Anson's look tonight was once again a revelation, even a complete reinvention. The surprise was on par with his previous combination of a suit with sneakers and a skateboard, rging formal wear with athletic style. So might argue that tonight's look was an even greater triumph, and few would disagree.
After all, the suit was still just a suit, but the details in its cut and lines exuded a completely different vibe, making people realize for the first ti that—
n's formal wear could possess such charm: a deadly, dangerous, mysterious, and sexy allure.
Moreover, at the after-party, Anson boldly broke free from the constraints of traditional fashion, completely overturning the serious, formal, and professional image of the suit. Formal wear was revitalized with a new energy.
It's no exaggeration to say that this was a mont that could change fashion paradigms. It's no wonder the fashion professionals couldn't hide their reactions when they saw Anson.
It was as if Michael Jackson had just released the "Thriller" music video—no one fully understood what was happening, but everyone knew sothing significant was unfolding.
Standing at a historical crossroads, no one could contain their excitent.
In just six months, this was already the second ti Anson had been at the forefront of fashion trends.
So, what does this an?
He has the looks, the charisma, the taste, and the instinct.
Whether or not Anson succeeds in making a na for himself as an actor, one thing is certain: his future in the fashion world is limitless.
It's important to note that in the year 2000, fashion and film were not closely intertwined. They were more like two very intimate but parallel worlds. It wasn't until Justin Timberlake left *NSYNC to go solo and ventured into acting that this began to change.
If anyone wonders why Justin Timberlake never beca a major box office star, despite his profound influence in both film and music, the answer lies in one word:
"Fashion" was the key.
Now, *NSYNC* is still together, Justin Timberlake hasn't gone solo, and fashion and film remain largely separate fields. Yet Anson has erged.
History continues along its original path, but slight deviations are appearing at the crossroads. Because of the arrival of a small butterfly, we've entered a parallel universe. The world is still the sa, the era is still the sa, but the people and events in this universe have begun to change.
First, it was Brad Renfro, and now n's fashion. This Emmy night is quietly veering off its usual course.
Eve was very pleased with this—
"Anna Wintour will hear about it."
Everything was going according to plan, and not just that, but the results were doubled, even tripled.
After a busy night, Anson returned ho at five in the morning. His two roommates had long since disappeared, their whereabouts unknown. He didn't have ti to check on them; he could only silently pray for Brad, collapse onto his bed, and fall into a deep sleep.
In the midst of a dream, suddenly awakened by a jolt that felt like the earth shaking, Anson sat up abruptly. He thought he had just experienced his first earthquake in Los Angeles, but through the sliver of one eye, he saw Chris's haggard, hungover face.
"He's looking for you. He says you must go to New York."
Without any further explanation, Chris collapsed directly onto Anson's bed, passing out imdiately. Anson didn't have ti to deal with him; he quickly got up, washed his face, and tidied up. Upon coming downstairs, he saw Edgar waiting.
Amidst a flurry of activity, like a whirlwind passing through, Anson soon found himself passed out on the plane. The two of them once again crossed the North Arican continent, returning to the East Coast.
Thanks to the sleep on the plane, Anson was able to wake up naturally. When he awoke, he saw that Edgar had already prepared warm water and aspirin on the tray table. Anson swallowed the aspirin with the water.
Edgar didn't imdiately get to work. Instead, he looked at the still groggy Anson and couldn't help but comnt, "Ah, to be young."
Despite a night of drinking, without washing or grooming, Anson's handso face was still as striking as ever, full of youthful energy and slightly enhanced by a rare touch of laziness and sexiness.
No makeup, no styling, everything was natural, yet he still looked stunning. That's the magic of youth.
No wonder throughout thousands of years of history, people have always sought the secret to reclaiming their youth.
Anson stretched lazily. "Says the person who has been working nonstop since boarding the plane."
Edgar had also accompanied them in their wild night out and made sure Anson got ho before leaving. This ant his rest ti was even less than Anson's, yet Edgar appeared full of energy, making Anson seem like the real ageless vampire.
Edgar tilted his head as if recalling sothing. "Seven cans of Red Bull, and there was also the fifth bottle of whiskey." As he spoke, Edgar pulled out a small 15 ml bottle of whiskey from the seat pocket in front of him, with a clinking sound as the bottles rattled together.
"So, my head is now sowhere in the clouds, in a state between sleep and wakefulness." Edgar was a bit overexcited, almost unnervingly so.
Anson was full of questions. "I thought alcohol wasn't allowed on planes."
Edgar pulled out another bottle of whiskey. "Welco to business class." He twisted off the cap and downed it as if it were juice.
"We have about forty-five minutes until we land… more or less."
"The audition is scheduled for tomorrow morning, so there's no rush tonight, but we still have a lot to accomplish today, pushing things forward."
"Eve and I are ready to launch the offensive. While we've been flying, the dia in both Los Angeles and New York have been set into motion."
"We have our jobs to do, and you have yours."
As he spoke, Edgar pulled a docunt out of his briefcase—a thick stack that looked to be at least fifty pages.
However, when Edgar opened it, the front pages were all blank, as were the back pages. Only in the middle was there a single sheet of A4 paper filled with densely packed dialogue.
Unlike the brief lines from the last audition, this ti the dialogue filled the entire page and even extended onto the back.
According to Hollywood's usual script conventions, one page typically represents one minute of screen ti, so you can estimate the movie's length based on the number of pages in the script.
Of course, the actual timing can vary slightly depending on the director's guidance, but this standard has been a reliable template in Hollywood for over fifteen years.
This ant that the script in Anson's hand represented about sixty to ninety seconds of screen ti.
But what was different about this audition compared to the last one? Why were there such strict confidentiality asures?
After all, a single page of a script, even if leaked, wouldn't reveal much or affect the film's production. Was such strict confidentiality really necessary?
Anson had questions, but he didn't voice them, patiently waiting.
Sure enough, Edgar's explanation followed. "Tonight, your job is to prepare for this page of the script. This ti, it's a screen test."
End of the first chapter.
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