*Knock, knock.*
In the quiet morning, the sound of a soft knock echoed dully down the hotel hallway, as if the person knocking feared disturbing the weary soul resting inside. But who were they waiting for to respond?
Unexpectedly, after only a brief mont, the door slowly opened, revealing Edgar's face, slightly fatigued but still unable to suppress his excitent.
Seeing who it was, Edgar let out a long breath. "Mr. Slimane, I can't thank you enough for stepping in. Jesus Christ, the burning in my stomach can finally settle down a bit."
Eddie Slimane looked at the face before him, a face that seed to have just seen a savior, and for a mont, he wasn't sure where to begin his retort.
"Eddie. Just call Eddie."
In the end, he swallowed back everything else he wanted to say and settled on the most important point.
Edgar flashed a smile. "After everything that happened yesterday, I felt I needed to show my respect."
Eddie shifted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable.
Edgar quickly picked up on this and didn't offer any explanations or reassurances. He simply stepped aside, inviting Eddie into the room without saying anything more.
The Dior fashion show had already taken place the day before yesterday.
Then, yesterday had been a day of absolute frenzy—
Starting in France, the dia from different countries and regions had turned their attention to the event. From Europe to Asia, then to Oceania, followed by North and South Arica, and finally back to Europe, the buzz continued, covering different ti zones and stirring up endless discussions.
The initial reports were not very professional and didn't delve deeply into analysis, as the detailed reviews and discussions would take ti, waiting for the authoritative magazines' special features, such as *Vogue*'s November issue.
Even so, the first-hand news spread like wildfire.
"Eddie Slimane Shines at Paris Fashion Week!"
"A Historic Breakthrough in n's Fashion: Dior Leads the Trend."
"Day Three of Paris Fashion Week Sees Unprecedented Frenzy."
"When n and Fashion Collide, Dior Offers a Different Answer!"
"Dior's Paris Fashion Week Show Receives a 15-Minute Standing Ovation."
"Genius Eddie Slimane Boldly Breaks the Mold, Writing New Fashion History."
The headlines were endless and overwhelming.
In the blink of an eye, it seed Paris had beco the center of the world, with millions of eyes converging like a spotlight, illuminating every street and alley of the city.
Paris had always been the fashion capital, holding a unique position among the four major fashion weeks. From the buzz it generated to the focus it commanded and the audience it attracted, Paris had long been accustod to being the hotbed of fashion discussions during this season each year.
But this ti was different—completely different.
Even the locals of Paris couldn't help but marvel: this was unprecedented.
Even dia outlets with no ties to fashion picked up on the trend and began covering the story. French newspapers, big and small, were filled with related news, breaking out of their usual circles, making it impossible for anyone to miss the fact that a revolution was quietly underway.
In 2001, it was still common for people to read the news in newspapers, and whether they were interested or not, everyone saw the headlines.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Among them, Eddie Slimane was undeniably at the center of the storm, but he wasn't the only one.
"Anson Wood, The New Fashion Icon."
"A Rebel Who Dares to Break the Rules: Anson Wood."
"Why Anson Wood?"
"Who Is Anson Wood?"
**"Anson, the Pioneer of New Generation Fashion? No, the Trailblazer Who Shatters the Chains of n's Fashion!"**
**"The New Idol Arrives in Paris!"**
**"Inspiration: It All Begins with Him."**
Headline after headline, Anson's na was everywhere, plastered across every surface.
Even the front pages of newspapers were dominated by Anson's photos!
He had arrived with a force that felt unstoppable, his face, image, and na unavoidable, present in every corner and every space, leaving no room to escape.
Previously, after *Friends* and *GQ*, Anson had believed he'd already experienced what it ant to beco an overnight sensation. But now, he realized that was just a prelude—this current wave was the true definition of madness.
Imagine the feeling: walking just 50 ters from the Four Seasons Hotel to a nearby café, and seeing Anson's face on the front pages of five different newspapers.
It was a real...invasion.
The imdiacy and impact were so overwhelming, it made Edgar's knees slightly weak.
Just 24 hours ago, in this city, Anson was a complete stranger; no one knew his na. But now, 24 hours later, his face and na could be seen on every street corner.
This rollercoaster experience was far more thrilling than any ride at an amusent park.
In just 24 hours, everything had changed. The world looked completely different. And this wasn't even the age of the internet; this tidal wave was driven entirely by print dia.
It's no wonder Edgar couldn't help but express his awe when he saw Eddie.
Looking back now, the crowd that sward after the Dior fashion show was just a warm-up.
At that mont, Anson had beco the undeniable focus, particularly because Karl Lagerfeld had personally extended an invitation to Anson, asking him to attend the Chanel fashion show as a front-row VIP.
Such an honor was enough to make anyone take notice.
At the sa ti, Anna Wintour also offered to act as his guide.
One was the "Kaiser" of fashion, the other, the "Devil Wears Prada."
With these two titans of the fashion world both turning their approving and even admiring gazes toward Anson, it cented his position in the industry.
Today was the day of the Chanel fashion show.
Although the Dior show had already set Paris ablaze, the real climax was still ahead. With Eddie's sudden rise to fa, attention was now at an all-ti high, making the atmosphere even more intense.
Karl Lagerfeld personally sent a selection of outfits for Anson, but considering the significance of the occasion, they needed to be fully prepared.
Decisively, Edgar sought Anna's help to secure a hair and makeup team for Anson. But that wasn't enough. Edgar also reached out to Eddie for assistance.
Like Anna, Eddie didn't hesitate to appear at the Four Seasons Hotel.
At this mont, Anson was still asleep. The previous day had been filled with networking and social engagents, leaving no ti to celebrate his successful audition for *Catch If You Can*. The breakthrough in the fashion world had already consud their entire schedule.
To ensure Anson would be in top condition for the Chanel show in the afternoon, he needed ample sleep.
Eddie entered the room; after a quick glance around, he made a ntal assessnt. He didn't ask about Anson's condition, and his gaze soon fell on the neatly hung outfits on the rack.
"These are the clothes Karl Lagerfeld sent over, freshly pressed last night."
"But I'm not sure if Anson should just wear them as is, or if they need to be styled? Or maybe we should make so alterations?"
Edgar was well aware of his limitations—fashion was not his domain, but he didn't mind admitting it. He was more than willing to accept help.
Eddie didn't respond imdiately. Instead, he quietly studied the outfits, his eyes gradually lighting up.
Impressive, truly impressive.
Karl Lagerfeld's dominance in the fashion industry over the years was certainly well-earned.
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