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Authors: Brad Goreski

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BOOK: Born to Be Brad
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Elegance, sophistication, and yes, grace.
7. Brad Pitt
He is the all-American guy but with European flair. He can do California beach but can also wear a beaded dress for the cover of
Rolling Stone.
He’s modern and masculine, which isn’t always easy to pull off. Plus, when I moved to Los Angeles, I dyed my hair blond to look like Brad in
Ocean’s Eleven.
8. Jackie O
The definition of chic.
9. James Dean
Casual ease but still grabs attention. He’s also the inspiration for my hair.
10. Isabella Blow
She had the uncanny ability to know who or what would be the next big thing. Alexander McQueen, Philip Treacy, Julien Macdonald—she spotted them all first.

But I offered to drop off Mario and his two assistants at the party, because I was driving that way anyway. (And when Mario made a cell phone call to Kate Moss that night, I almost died.) Of course as soon as the valet pulled up with my car, I immediately regretted having volunteered. I looked in the backseat of my car and I could see all kinds of garbage on the floor. Items from my styling kit were spilled all over the backseat. I distinctly remember ducking into the backseat of the car to grab a pair of silicone boobs—chicken cutlets—and hide them.

“Don’t mind these!” I said.

Despite the brush with Karen Elson and being in earshot of Kate Moss’s cell phone calls, I had little to do with actual fashion at
Vogue.
I was fashion-world
adjacent.
If I’d been in New York full-time, walking around the halls of the mother ship, it might have been enough. But I wasn’t so sure this was the right job for me. And I wondered where I was headed.

One afternoon an invitation arrived at the
Vogue
office, an invitation to a launch party for Rachel Zoe’s style guide,
Style A to Zoe
. The party would be held on the roof of the Cartier store in Beverly Hills. I hadn’t given up the dream of working for Rachel, and even though this invitation was addressed to Lisa Love, I RSVP’d for myself and put the invitation in my bag. It was a sin of omission. I wore short pants and a bow tie, basically a shrunken baby suit, and I went to the party alone. I planned on staying for one sparkling water, hoping to catch Rachel’s attention. I wasn’t even sure if she’d remember me. I saw her first, from across the room. We were at the Cartier store, and she looked like a Cartier watch. She was wearing a gold dress, vintage, and she not only remembered me but she seemed genuinely excited to see me.

“Come over here!” she shouted, intimating that I should hang out with her and her two assistants, Taylor and Leah, for the rest of the night. Minutes later, the four of us were dancing. I was as confused as you are. I was not alone in my confusion, by the way. Coincidentally, Candie—Gary’s agent’s wife, the one who brought me to that Chanel dinner with the backyard trains and the Picassos where I first met Rachel—was at the book party. When she spied me dancing with Rachel, she leaned in and said, “So, you’re friends with her now?”

“I don’t know!” I shouted over the music.

Later that night, I sat with Leah and told her all about my experience at
Vogue.
I was selling myself hard. I was name-dropping Mario Testino and Grace Coddington and saying how fabulous the job was. You better
werk
!

“Has Rachel hired anyone yet?” I said innocently.

“There might be a job open,” Leah said.

When I left the party, Leah told me to expect a phone call.

T
here
was
a job open. And it was Leah’s. This time, Rachel called herself. It was November when she filled me in on the specifics of the job—the hours, the salary, and what would be expected of me.

“That sounds amazing,” I said.

But there is a little more to the story. What I didn’t know was that Rachel was at work on a reality show, and Leah was leaving the company because she didn’t want to be on television. I’d have to be involved in the reality show if I wanted the job. And shooting was to begin in January.

Um, OK. I had concerns. My first thought was, What is it going to look like? There aren’t any fashion reality shows like this out yet. There was no established format. Even if there had been, I didn’t know what “format” meant then. Yes, I’d be hands-on with clothing, which is what I didn’t have at
Vogue.
Rachel addressed my hesitations head-on: “I’m an executive producer on it, so you know you’re completely covered. I have the final say in everything. I’ll never do anything against your will. I’ll always have your back.” She told me to call her in the next couple of days to give her an idea of where my head was at, and we hung up the phone. She’d need me as soon as possible, she said. If I decided to go with Rachel, I’d have to give my two weeks’ notice immediately.

That night, I explained the situation to Gary. This was yet another not-quite-there moment in my life. Rachel Zoe was offering me my dream job. But if I wanted it, the trick was I had to agree to be on a major cable network show. Before Gary could get a word in I answered my own question: “I’m not interested,” I said. Gary works in television, and he certainly understood. There were too many unknowns. We went to sleep. But sometime that night Gary had a change of heart. In the morning, he turned to me and said, “I was thinking about Rachel’s offer. How are you going to feel if you watch that show and you know you were offered the chance to be her assistant?”

I thought about it. “I might feel like I missed out,” I said. “I’ll always be watching it and think, Maybe I should have given that a chance.”

“I think you should consider it,” he said. “If you’re going to end up on a fashion reality show, you might as well end up on one with Rachel. She’s always going to protect her image. She’s not going to put out some shoddy product. How bad could it turn out to be?”

He had a point. But I still wasn’t sold. I’d only been at
Vogue
for three months, and I was worried about burning bridges at the most important fashion magazine in the world. Besides, I hadn’t even made it onto the masthead yet. And I was going to quit? I called my friend Annabet, who had worked for André Leon Talley at
Vogue
and successfully extricated herself to take a more senior position at
Jane
magazine. I was right to be concerned, she said. For all of the horror stories about
Vogue,
the magazine is a loyal place and a great nurturer of talent. There’s this feeling: Once you’re at
Vogue,
you’re always at
Vogue.
It was like
The Godfather.
And I was turning my back on the family before I had a chance to make my mark.

There was more to the decision than just turning the page on the magazine. The more time I spent in fashion, the more I saw this great divide emerging: a bias between editorial stylists and celebrity stylists, a real church-and-state situation. You were either one or the other. That line in the sand would change in the coming years, thanks in large part to Rachel. Being a personal stylist would become a legitimate platform to mold and shape a vision and brand. It’s less about red carpet moments than about giving a celebrity a real voice. But there was still that division. Should I continue on the
Vogue
path? Was that the better play? There was also my age to consider. I was thirty years old and I was an assistant. There was potential at the magazine, of course, great potential. But the path was well defined. Positions didn’t open very often and I knew it would take quite a while for me to move up the ranks there. If I was twenty-three years old at the time, I wouldn’t have even considered leaving. But I felt the clock ticking.

Project Runway
HOW TO DRESS FOR THE AIRPLANE. (HINT: DITCH THAT NECK PILLOW.)
Let’s get this out of the way: I
can’t
with the neck pillows and the sweat suits. Especially when you’re traveling for work. You’re going to be on a plane for four and a half hours. Why are you dressing like it’s a pajama party? Dressing down for the airport is this weird phenomenon that’s swept the nation. Suddenly you have to be in your most comfortable clothes to fly. OK, if you’re on board a twelve-hour flight, fine. Bring a pair of sweatpants with you and change on the plane. But a four-hour flight to New York? Forget it. Also: Do those neck pillows even work? I don’t know how wrapping your neck around a doughnut helps. But whatever.
There’s this rumor I love about airplane travel: When Gisele Bündchen takes a flight, she sprays down her blanket and then the seat using essential oils so there’s a pleasing smell. (Which I love.) I’m not saying you have to do that. But if you’re flying to one of the most stylish cities in the world, it wouldn’t hurt to put a little effort into your appearance.
Plan a travel outfit. How? Imagine you’re going to brunch on Sunday with your best girlfriends. What would you wear? Maybe jeans and a cute little blazer and a striped T-shirt and a favorite bag? Maybe you’d bring a scarf for your neck, in case it got cold? Do the same on the plane. Think: What is an outfit you love that’s not an evening dress?
If you’re not willing to part with the in-flight sweat suit, do me (and the people around you) a favor: Pick one element. The top or the bottom. I sometimes wear a hoodie on the plane, because I like to cover my head when I sleep. But that hoodie, mind you, is Thom Browne.
You’re on a plane, but you’re still you. So wear a cute pair of jeans. Wear a nice pair of sneakers. Wear a pair of oxfords. Dress within your style. If you’re taking an overnight flight, bring a change of clothes in your carry-on and get into the sweats on board. We’re in the terminal eating dinner before the flight. I don’t need to see what you sleep in. Speaking of which: Bring your own travel blanket. Those things in coach are
narsty
. Also, I don’t mind if you bring your own food onto the plane. But please, no tuna fish sandwiches. We’ve gotta share this space, folks.
Last thing: That carry-on? Invest in something cute and functional. It can be a colorful tote, an overnight bag, a leather duffel, something vintage. But put some thought into it. Not everything has to be utilitarian. The whole idea of vacation is to relax and get away. These are milestones people look forward to all year while they’re sitting in their cubicles. Why not be excited about the way you’re going to look? Don’t wear below-the-knee cargo shorts and shoes made for hiking Mt. Everest. A nice walking shoe will do.

It’s Christmas 2007 at the Taj Mahal, and I’m wearing a nylon Dolce & Gabbana motorcycle jacket—a present from Gary. The scarf is Burberry, and all together it’s some effortless chic for the morning light in India. When you’re being photographed in front of a landmark, you should wear something timeless.

All Aboard!
HOW TO PACK FOR A WEEKLONG VACATION IN TEN MINUTES
I often find myself at the airport checking in for a flight, standing behind a couple. A couple, as in two people. And yet they have six pieces of luggage. Meanwhile, the couple is dressed in sweatpants. I mean, what’s inside all of those suitcases? More sweatpants?
When you’re packing, lay out on the bed everything you’d like to bring with you. Then get out your itinerary and do an edit. If you’re going to Hawaii or Mexico, figure you’re going to spend more than half of your time at the beach or at the pool. Check the weather. Guys, bring at least two swimsuits. It’s nice to switch it up. It’s nice to have something to look forward to wearing the next day. Women, bring a variety of swimsuits. On a day when you’re feeling good about your body and you want to get the most sun, wear a bikini. For the day when you feel like you ate too much the night before, you’ll have a one-piece. Also, bring a variety of cover-ups. You’ll be eating in them at the pool and they get dirty.
Side note: I don’t have a problem with cover-ups when they’re poolside. I do have a problem with people wearing bathing suits and cover-ups when they’re in a restaurant or out shopping. Put on some shorts.
As for packing shoes, I am as guilty as the next guy, if not more so. I used to bring everything I owned on vacation. But everyone needs to calm down. You don’t need eight pairs of shoes for one week. Look at the schedule. Think of how many nights you’ll be going out. You’ll be seen by people who’ve never met you. It’s a good opportunity to let yourself shine. Once you get into the rhythm of your vacation, you’ll wear two or three pairs of shoes. If you laid out four pairs of black shoes, put at least two back in the closet. You need a comfortable pair, a fashion day shoe—a fashion flat, a gladiator, or a day heel—and then for night, a party pump. Throw in a pair of flip-flops or an espadrille.
BOOK: Born to Be Brad
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