Boom!
A loud noise exploded in Anna Wintour's mind, and she suddenly realized—
It happened, just like that.
Like countless monts in history, it happened quietly and without warning. It wasn't until years later, when people recognized that the course of history had completely changed, that they would look back and realize this was the turning point—a mont of transformation that was unbelievable yet entirely natural.
This was one of those monts.
Even though Anna knew that Steven and Tom had no real interest in fashion and were here for other reasons, she couldn't spare any attention for these two outsiders at the mont. Her gaze followed Anson's footsteps, unable to look away, her heart racing.
As Anson continued forward, Anna's eyes t those of Karl Lagerfeld in the front row.
Karl Lagerfeld, the creative director of Chanel and another titan at the pinnacle of the fashion world, wielded influence equal to Anna's.
Their eyes t briefly, and although their faces remained expressionless, their eyes exchanged a mutual understanding filled with brilliance and intensity, both feeling a surge of excitent.
Then, they broke eye contact, both focusing on Anson as he continued on his path.
Both Anna and Karl needed only a glance to confirm they shared the sa thought.
This Dior show had been the talk of the industry for the past two months, gathering nearly half of the fashion world's top figures in one place, with countless eyes fixed on this runway.
Another half of the fashion elite, however, had chosen to ignore it, viewing it with disdain, cold detachnt, or lofty indifference, refusing to attend.
But now, Anna was certain of one thing:
Those who missed this event would regret it.
Of course, they wouldn't really "miss" it—
After the show, they could watch the product catalog, view photos and videos, read news reports, and hear firsthand accounts from those who were there. They wouldn't be left behind by the tis. But they had missed the chance to witness history up close, and that was their loss.
Ever since last year's "GQ" discussions, the conversation had been ongoing—could n's fashion really be on the brink of a transformative turning point?
At first, it was treated as a joke, sothing not taken seriously at all. Then ca doubt and provocation, and when the formal discussions began, negative opinions overwhelmingly dominated. Soon after, curiosity and confusion erged, as the undercurrents in the industry started to stir restlessly.
But even so, hesitation, uncertainty, and conflicting views still prevailed, including within Anna herself.
That's why her collaboration with Anson was both an exploration and a gamble. Anna wanted to cut through the fog and find the ultimate answer through her own experint.
Until now.
Anna knew that change had already arrived.
The music in her ears remained srizing and lively, breaking through the imagination and entering reality, "Everybody wants to rule the world…"
Clearly, Hedi Slimane knew exactly what he was doing and was doing it exceptionally well.
...
"Brilliant!"
Anson turned a corner and entered the backstage area, where Hedi was waiting, his eyes fixed on Anson, clapping lightly with a sparkle in his eyes.
A single look was all it took—
To be honest, Anson wasn't entirely sure of the outco either.
Not being nervous is one thing, but being uncertain about your performance is another.
This was Anson's first runway show. Not only did he have to carry Hedi's expectations and the responsibility of representing Dior, but he also had to face the scrutiny of Steven and Tom.
Everything was chaotic.
Just monts ago, Anson had been so deeply imrsed in his role that he didn't have ti to take in his surroundings. He didn't even know how many people were in the audience, let alone where Steven and Tom were seated. Everything was a blur, and naturally, he had no idea how his "audition" was going.
Now, receiving Hedi's approval was undoubtedly good news.
Hedi didn't say much, but the bright light in his shy and bashful eyes revealed the joy and happiness bubbling under the surface. Just a brief exchange of glances with Anson was enough to send a surge of excitent through him.
But Anson didn't have ti for pleasantries; the show was still ongoing.
With a slight nod, Anson flashed a big smile at Hedi and continued on his way. The show director also gave Anson two thumbs up, offering a smile of encouragent and approval, which helped Anson relax his shoulders a bit as he quickly moved forward.
Unlike the glamorous front stage, the backstage area was crowded and chaotic.
Yet, there was order in the chaos.
Despite the hustle and bustle, there was still a clear path left for Anson, ensuring he could make his way unimpeded past the models preparing to go on stage and reach his designated dressing area, where an assistant was already waiting.
The assistant was in charge of getting the next outfit ready. From a distance, Anson could be seen unbuttoning his shirt; by the ti he reached his spot, the assistant was already crouching to help him take off his pants.
Up and down, they worked in perfect sync.
Occasionally, they might accidentally pull down his underwear along with his pants; but in the chaos of the runway, there was no ti for embarrassnt or awkwardness. Everything was hurried. They'd quickly adjust the underwear back in place, throw on the next outfit, and then it was ti to hit the stage again.
Work was work.
They got everything ready in the shortest ti possible, without even a mont to catch his breath, as the stage manager was already calling out Anson's na from the front.
Taking three steps in two, Anson was back at the stage entrance in no ti.
Hedi imdiately stepped forward, checking Anson's outfit and styling, while an assistant with a small makeup kit stood by, ready to wipe away sweat, absorb oil, and touch up his makeup. anwhile, Anson focused on regulating his breathing.
Just as he finished, the call for "Next up!" ca from ahead.
A quick step forward, a slight adjustnt—
"Go!"
And with that, Anson was back on stage.
The mont he stepped out, he could feel the air subtly shift again. There were no whispers, just a mix of glances and emotions crashing over him like a tidal wave.
Unexpected, completely unexpected.
This ti, Anson chose another black and white outfit, but the vibe was entirely different from the first one.
The shirt and trousers might seem like a repetitive, unimaginative choice, but what if they were paired with a leather jacket and boots?
The leather imdiately gave the outfit a tougher edge.
With different cuts, different lines, and different combinations, the whole look took on a new texture. The finishing touch was a silk narrow black tie, loosely hanging around his neck, exuding a hint of rebellion and nonchalance.
With just a change of outfit, Anson suddenly looked dangerous.
Monts ago, he had appeared so fragile and lonely; now, he seed like a fallen angel breaking free from his chains, spreading his wings, and licking the blood at the corner of his mouth, a subtle smile hidden in his stern, rugged features.
Lethal. Dangerous.
It was hard to believe, but it was happening right before their eyes—a direct display of fashion's allure, a seamless switch in an instant.
User Comments
0 comments from readers