Did people anticipate this mont?
More than that!
To be precise, all of Hollywood had been eagerly awaiting this mont, hoping that Anson could once again bring surprises, looking forward to witnessing a historic mont after long buildup and anticipation, hoping to see Anson transform from quantity to quality, breaking through to beco a fashion icon.
Without a doubt.
However, when this mont truly arrived, people realized they were not ready.
Their minds went completely blank.
Even the roaring sounds slowly faded from their eardrums, eventually disappearing into the void, leaving behind a profound silence as they quietly gazed at the scene before them.
Witnessing history.
At the front of the red carpet, Anson felt the solid ground beneath his feet. He buttoned his suit one button at a ti, adjusted the hem of his jacket slightly, straightened his shoulders, stood tall, and gently raised the corners of his mouth, presenting the best version of himself.
Everything was happening tonight.
It wasn't the Oscars, nor the Emmys. Precisely because it was the Golden Globes, the opportunity was rare.
Because this was the Golden Globes, an event filled with stars and entertainnt, where people paid more attention to gossip than awards. The stage under the spotlight could beco a mont of universal attention.
Because this was a crucial piece of the puzzle in crafting his fashion image, Anson knew exactly what the recent promotion and hype would lead to.
It wasn't just the fashion insiders or the dia; his colleagues in the industry were also watching, with even more critical and expectant gazes, waiting for the mont when quantity turned into quality.
And because this was a special mont Anson was dedicating to Eddie Slimane. After Anson's collaboration with Dior ended, there were murmurs of worry and even doubt about Eddie's future. Without his muse, people questioned whether his designs would lose vitality and fail to et expectations.
Eddie said not to worry, because haters never stay quiet. He shut out all the noise and designed this look for Anson's transformation, eagerly awaiting the mont Anson would wear it.
But Anson cared.
So, today was the day.
Anson needed to show his best self. Whether facing an uphill battle or a bed of roses, he would greet it all with a smile.
A brief pause, a small adjustnt—
He stood still.
At this mont, Anson also noticed the silence, almost mischievously quiet; but Anson remained unfazed.
Not only was he calm, but the smile on his lips widened slightly, blooming under the golden sunlight, a sense of inner lightness and joy radiating out.
Who could have imagined that such a scene would unfold at the Golden Globes?
This, too, was a first.
Without lingering further, Anson began walking, ascending the red carpet step by step.
His steps left ripples.
Beneath his feet, golden sunlight and red flas created waves of gentle ripples, as if touching the hearts of everyone present. Hearts trembled involuntarily.
But no one could speak, and no one dared to break the stillness. Amid the silence, the surging emotions grew louder and wilder, as if the blood was about to burn the soul to ashes.
Repressed, enduring, stretched to the limit, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
Including inside the glass room.
Even Cindy, who had seen it all, couldn't look away, staring at the live screen. Soon, she realized it wasn't enough for her eyes and heart, so she turned and looked through the glass, capturing the figure at the end of the red carpet.
She couldn't make out his face or expression, couldn't even discern his figure and proportions, yet she felt a presence, an aura, effortlessly standing out from the sea of people, making everyone else seem irrelevant.
One look, a thousand years.
The world stopped turning.
Maybe Anson was the only exception, strolling through the center of the Eternal City, unhurriedly, with poise, weaving through the chaos and frenzy without caring about the lack of cheers or reactions.
That presence, that grace, that aura.
Unforgettable.
Unintentionally, Anson's gaze t that of a spectator. Seeing the shock on her face, the smile on his lips curved upward, nodding in acknowledgnt, his clear, bright eyes glimring with joy.
"...Anson."
The words slipped from the girl's throat, a quiet murmur, a soft call; yet it felt like an ancient spell awakening a sleeping dragon, sweeping across the scene in an instant.
Then, it exploded.
Ah!
A mushroom cloud rose.
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Frenzy, heavy, sensational, echoing in waves throughout the air.
Ah! Ah! Ah!
The volcano finally erupted.
There was a brief pause, then a flood of flashbulbs, the sound of shutters clicking.
And in an instant, it reached its peak.
Click, click, click, click, click...
The entire world was swept into a storm, leaving no ti to react, only the roar reverberating above their heads.
Dizzy.
The world spun.
From extre silence to extre noise, as the impact hit their hearing, it was cut off the next second, leaving only the sound of hearts pounding, blood boiling, and souls burning, silently yet vividly vibrating in their ears. The senses — sight, touch, sll — perfectly absorbed the surging tidal wave of heat, the world dissolving into chaos, leaving only one figure—
In their eyes, ears, hearts, and souls… there was only one Anson.
The one and only.
The shock, the impact, was an unforgettable, unique experience, even while imrsed in it, hard to believe it was truly happening.
This is the aura of a superstar.
The screams, the tears, the worship, all beca a dazzling halo, blending into the endless golden and red, rely a backdrop, with all focus locked on Anson.
The world had already changed.
He was no longer just a fashion icon but had transcended fashion's boundaries, becoming a landscape in Hollywood, much like Leonardo DiCaprio once was — perhaps even more so.
Angelina Jolie?
Who?
Did anyone even care about the earlier arrivals or what had happened before?
Even Halle Berry, still on the red carpet, turned in surprise to look at Anson, montarily forgetting her own interview.
"I love you!"
"Marry !"
"You're my prince."
"I'll have your babies."
"Ah! Ah! Ah!"
The shouts evolved into the simplest, most direct cry.
"Anson!"
Only now did Cindy truly understand the saying in the fashion world:
True top-tier fashion doesn't follow trends; it creates them. A piece of clothing is rely fabric until worn by the right person; at that mont, it cos to life and becos fashion.
Everyone knows this principle; but a fashion icon? That's a once-in-a-decade occurrence.
Words had lost their power, and even expertise had beco useless.
Without thinking, Cindy sincerely uttered a single phrase:
"Who could possibly say no to Anson Wood?"
Little did Cindy know, this phrase would beco iconic, not just after the Golden Globes but for a long ti to co, spreading far and wide, becoming a beloved quote.
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