[Chapter 668: The Show Begins]
Under the watchful eyes of the public, the day finally arrived on November 2.
The Victoria's Secret Fashion Show was set to kick off at seven in the evening, with everything expected to conclude by eight-thirty. The after-party was scheduled at the Grarcy Hotel, not far from the Armory on Lexington Avenue.
From the early morning of that day, dia reporters stationed in New York began to gather around the Armory. By noon, the roads within hundreds of ters of the Armory were already packed with journalists from various outlets. After coordinating with the city's officials, Firefly Group had roads barricaded between two blocks around the Armory early on November 2. Fortunately, the Armory was at the southern end of Lexington Avenue, which was not a particularly busy area, so the roadblocks did not severely disrupt public transportation nearby. Hence, the departnt readily approved Firefly's request.
The project team had already entered the Armory early that morning, working on the final touches under strict security. Even the invited dia had to wait until their entry ti arrived before being allowed in. Most uninvited reporters could only patiently wait outside, hoping to glean so useful information.
Although guest entry was at six o'clock, there were always people hoping to gain attention for various reasons. The gathering of hundreds of dia personnel undoubtedly highlighted this hotspot for attention-seekers. So reporters, who had staked out pri shooting locations outside since early morning, anticipated they would have to wait until afternoon for any useful news. Little did they know, they had underestimated the fashion event's impact and so individuals' deep desire for fa.
Throughout the day, the streets around the Armory were buzzing with various attempts to snag an attention boost. Among these were nurous models; after all, the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show catered to only forty lucky ones. New York, as a fashion capital, was brimming with glamorous drears feeling the show's allure. Those models not making it onto the Victoria's Secret runway found alternative pathways.
So more established models often arrived with a small team, snapping various photos along the streets surrounding the Armory, hoping to create buzz for the next day's headlines like "XXX Attends Victoria's Secret Fashion Show." Even if they never set foot inside, under the industry's tacit acceptance of such attention-grabbing tactics, no one would call them out. Models without status had to rely on a flashy appearance, either strutting back and forth on the street or pretending to wait for friends under a streetlight for hours. This garnered countless flashes from the caras. Although most photos would likely be discarded by the journalists, any snippet appearing in newspapers or magazines was an opportunity for these girls. If one caught the attention of a fashion mogul, that could catalyze their rise. There were precedents; Cindy Crawford had earlier garnered fashion world interest from a few chance street shots taken by a small reporter, which set her on her current path.
...
As the showti neared, reporters gathered near the Armory maintained an air of superiority, seemingly aware of the inside scoop. Occasionally, they would snap a few shots with a hint of condescension. However, as dusk approached and they watched so colleagues escorted inside ahead of schedule, all dia personnel perked up, waiting eagerly for six o'clock. They knew that with Eric Williams in the mix, even invitations sent to the First Family would likely not be declined. While the Victoria's Secret project team did not publicly unveil any guest list, it was certain that the lineup for the show would be formidable.
Just as the clock approached five-forty, a flashy white stretch limousine arrived at the end of the red carpet outside the Armory, surprising all. The sudden appearance caused a stir, and the flashbulbs began to pop frenziedly.
The limo driver exited, opening the door respectfully, and a doll-faced girl in a pink short coat eagerly hopped out.
"Wow, it's busy!" the girl cheerfully said to herself, then waved at the nearest group of reporters. "Hey, everyone!"
Upon seeing Drew Barrymore, who had a close relationship with Eric, the crowd of reporters erupted into excitent. When the girl greeted them, they clamored to respond chaotically. One reporter boldly shouted, "Miss Barrymore, are you here to support Mr. Williams?" The girl bead and nodded, "Yep."
Amid the noise, another brave reporter raised their voice, "Miss Barrymore, what do you think about Mr. Williams' rumored relationship with Heidi Klum?"
Drew maintained her smile. "I think the stuff you guys write is pretty hilarious; I don't have an opinion. As long as everyone's happy, that's what matters."
Her slightly sarcastic remark left so reporters looking sheepish, while others noted that she seed in no rush to step forward, prompting questions that were cut off when the limousine door opened again.
From the back of the car erged two stunning, identical-looking blonde Russian twins. Dressed similarly in dark fitted coats and black knee-high boots, they carried an almost military air beneath their striking features.
In recent years, while Drew had continued her playful antics, she had kept a low profile away from the dia. Suddenly appearing in front of a crowd with the Russian twins provoked a faint stir among reporters.
"Miss Barrymore, who are these beautiful ladies? Are they models too?"
Drew casually placed her hands in her pockets, strolling leisurely along the red carpet towards the Armory's entrance. "They're Natasha; they aren't models, they're my bodyguards."
Despite recognizing the twins' sowhat cold deanor, their identical exquisite faces made it hard for reporters to believe that they were indeed bodyguards. "Miss Barrymore, you must be kidding, or are they set to play bodyguards in a Firefly film?"
"Ha ha, that's an interesting thought. Maybe I could have them give it a try soday." Saying this, Drew walked to the entrance of the Armory. The tall security guard didn't even ask her for an invitation, eagerly unhooking the barricade and respectfully letting her and the twins in, eliciting discontent from so reporters.
One reporter asked in an accusatory tone, "Hey, big guy, doesn't Drew Barrymore need an invitation?"
The question received only an exaggerated roll of the eyes.
...
Drew stepped into the Armory's external lobby, casually doodling on a wall designated for photos. So special guest photographers were caught by surprise as she slipped away before they were ready. As she walked down the corridor to the backstage area, Drew curiously examined the layout around her, suddenly asking the twins behind her, "Natasha, what did it feel like to be the center of attention just now?"
After exchanging glances, one replied, "Boss, it felt... awkward."
"Ha ha, exactly. Just don't get too fond of that feeling; otherwise, you'll find it quite
distressing."
The twins nodded in quiet agreent, following Drew closely. They understood why she had said that; even if they grew fond of the attention, this seemingly innocuous boss would not grant them too many opportunities to bask in it; their destinies were already set. Thinking of this, both twins felt an image of their youthful master spring to mind, a figure who preferred to be called "Master." While they understood the implications that ca with it, they didn't feel much resistance, only a sense of awe. They knew that although he was young, he was a significantly powerful figure, with wealth exceeding even the Russian Federation's treasury post-Soviet collapse. This wealth, detached from their lives, nonetheless provided them with unprecedented security.
...
Once Drew made her appearance, the clock swiftly turned to six. Limousines began to arrive, parking along the not-so-long red carpet, as the crowd of reporters frantically clicked their shutters. New York's political elites, fashion tycoons, dia executives, and Hollywood stars -- figures who rarely congregated -- were all in view. Although Eric had no intention of allowing these guests to steal the thunder from the Victoria's Secret Angels, he didn't refuse their eager attendance. Undeniably, the presence of these heavyweights would empower the dia coverage, keeping conversations about the show lively until its scheduled airing in
December.
As minutes ticked by, invited guests could still walk the red carpet while the majority of regular guests had to enter through different paths; otherwise, getting a thousand guests inside in an hour would be impossible.
...
As seven o'clock approached, Anna Wintour, editor-in-chief of Vogue, sat in the front row on the left side of the runway, quietly listening to the distant commotion outside. She engaged in hushed chat with Rolling Stone founder Jann Wenner, her gaze sweeping over the surrounding lavish crowd and the elegant arrangents within, feeling a twinge of nostalgia. Since taking the helm at Vogue, Anna had been the focal point at any major fashion event she attended. Traditionally, primary organizers and designers approached her to exchange pleasantries. Today, however, Anna felt a rare sensation of being overlooked. Yet she felt neither anger nor frustration because many around her eclipsed her in fa and stature. Just nearby sat SI Newhouse, the head of Conde Nast, Vogue's parent company. It was usually the other way around; celebrities ca to her to say hello, but she had just made her rounds with
him.
Finally, the clock struck seven. With a few subtle clicks, the lights shifted, plunging the guest seating into dimness as the already glittering silver-sequined runway sparkled even brighter. Everyone's gaze turned towards the towering archway.
Behind the arch, a specialized rock band setup awaited in front of a solid rear-projected giant screen. Anna couldn't help but recall the rumors she had heard, her mind tinged with both curiosity and anticipation -- surely Eric Williams would not take to the stage. However, she quickly dismissed the notion -- a fashion show directed by Eric was plausible,
but performing on stage under his current status would be too over the top. Anna leaned closer to Jann Wenner, asking softly, "Jann, do you know which bands will be performing?" Jann shook his head, "I'm not sure. What we've gathered is that Firefly Group is set to showcase so artists from their stable. Jeffrey Katzenberg reorganized all the music divisions under Firefly recently, creating Firefly Records. But from what we've heard from recent gossip, we all know that Eric Williams personally composed all the BGM for this show. His previous track, New-Divide, was amazing; I bet this one won't disappoint either. I'm actually quite looking forward to it."
Anna nodded. While music intrigued her less, she was far more eager to see what kind of inner
show Eric would present.
As the lights illuminated, Eric stepped out on stage, delivering a brief address before
retreating to warm applause.
The stage lights shifted again, deep crimson lights washing over the runway, bathing the
interior in a vibrant red glow.
With crisp drumbeats echoing, a British ceremonial guard stepped out under the red lights,
beginning the pre-performance.
So in the crowd remained intensely curious; others appeared quite indifferent, questioning
the aning behind it all.
However, the sounds that followed quickly resolved their uncertainty, as the drumbeats quickened, leading the announcer to declare the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show's first the:
British Invasion.
A few unfamiliar rock youths took the stage, and explosive music erupted in the air.
*****
spatreon/Sayonara816.
User Comments
0 comments from readers