Born to Be Brad (29 page)

Before we hung up the phone, she asked me to send her a few inspiration images. She was wrapping up the fourth
Spy Kids
movie down in Austin, Texas, and we’d set up a face-to-face meeting for when she returned to L.A. The next day, I sent her three stories that inspired me. There was a big nineties Calvin Klein minimalism resurgence happening in fashion, which I loved. Prada, meanwhile, was doing a very ladylike collection at the time. I gave Jessica a cross-section of ideas that fit into different elements of her personality. And somehow, she was on board. I had no regular clients. And yet now I had a chance to land an A-list actress. This business is nothing if not fickle.

To say I had a lot riding on this fitting with Jessica Alba is the understatement of the year. Her previous stylist had tipped me off, telling me what to expect. Jessica is a mom first and foremost, he said, and she’s busy. She likes clothing but only to a point. Don’t show up with ten racks of clothing. Show up with one tightly edited rack. I thought, This cannot be another Anne Hathaway/Jake Gyllenhaal situation. I heard Annabet in my head saying, “Babe, you need to learn how to edit.” I had to know what I wanted her to wear. She is the rare actress who doesn’t like a fitting, who doesn’t care about the attention. She doesn’t want to spend five hours trying on dresses. When she says she’d rather be with her family, she’s telling the truth.

“How will I know when the fitting is over?” I asked.

“When she sits down,” he said. “That’s your cue to leave.” Gulp.

“But these fears made me realize this was what I was supposed to be doing. I was supposed to be taking risks.”

I pulled up to Jessica’s house and her assistant let me in. I set up in the guest room, up a flight of stairs. And I was happy that I’d edited the racks—because it was like Barry’s Bootcamp carrying these garment bags up that curved staircase. It was like an obstacle course. I was scared that I was going to scratch the walls with the garment bags. This was not a good way to start a fitting. Meanwhile, I set up the rack and hung up a strapless couture Valentino, white with tiers of feathers. The premiere would be held shortly before Christmas, and there was a Winter Wonderland theme happening. I had everything from Narcisco Rodriguez to Prada, from Prabal Gurung to Opening Ceremony. It was a mix of fresh designers and legendary glamour. Jessica, I was finding out, doesn’t care if everybody is going to love what she wears. She’s not afraid of risks, and she likes what she feels comfortable in. For a meeting she had scheduled with Revlon, we paired a bodysuit with a floral skirt for a great nineties moment. The premiere was the real challenge. She tried on the feathered Valentino but was concerned the feathers would be too cutesy. I surprised myself and pushed her, gently but firmly. You can’t be a yes man, I knew. I was being paid for my point of view. I believed this dress was the strongest option, and I conveyed that. She took a second look and came around.

When word leaked out that I was working with Jessica Alba, more jobs followed. An editor at
InStyle
magazine called. They were shooting the lovely Ethiopian model Liya Kebede in a six-page story on Jil Sander’s new collection and wanted me to style it. I was beside myself: This was a major national fashion magazine taking a chance on me with a big model and a huge photographer. But before I accepted the job, I asked myself, What if I get to the set and people ask me questions that I can’t answer? The shoot will be entirely Jil Sander looks. How can I make it look different from photographs from the runway? There were deeper questions brewing that went to the core of this transition: Could I really be an editorial stylist? But these fears made me realize this was what I was supposed to be doing. I was supposed to be taking risks.

Every year a fashion house sponsors an event at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles. In December 2010 I wore a Louis Vuitton jacket, Band of Outsiders pants, and Lanvin shoes. The jacket is gold, with this black sheared fabric. It’s an updated version of men’s evening wear. And it made me look very tall.

Photograph by Jordan Strauss/Getty Images

“Had I leaped too soon? Was this going to work out? Also: Did I have what it takes to be the boss?”

And so I accepted the job. When I arrived on set it was more crowded than the rave clubs I used to go to in Toronto. There were two assistants, a slew of people from
InStyle,
a makeup artist and hairdresser, my agent, the photographer, his assistants, and of course a very stunning Liya Kebede. The day did not go smoothly. We needed eight looks. Unfortunately, half the clothing was held up at customs and wouldn’t be arriving. Eight looks were all we had. And there was no margin for error. It was like one big puzzle. How to make it work? I was staring at the rack. What to do?
Babe, you need to learn how to edit.

In the end, I went back to the collection. I was telling the story of this clothing, which was the reintroduction of color-blocking. Raf Simons’s vision at Jil Sander was so strong, I didn’t need a high concept. The clothes would speak for themselves. I needed to add the right accessories and put my touch on it. The fabrics were stiff and the cut of the clothing didn’t always lend itself to movement. I thanked God we were working with a fashion model that day and not an actress. Never forget that modeling is a skill! With each look that passed, I felt a sense of relief. The shoot lasted eight hours, but it felt like an eternity. Still, I must have done something right, because the magazine later offered me a three-story contract. To have someone bet on you—and for you to deliver—is a remarkable feeling.

The phone was ringing—not steadily, but it was ringing. And my voice was developing. I’d been to a shoot in Alaska where we were calling in boots from New York—boots I was pretty sure we’d never use. Now that I was the boss, I was forcing myself to have a real reason for every item I brought. To have a strong idea as opposed to having everything there and waiting for inspiration to strike.

I was in London styling the British singer Adele for
InStyle
right after Christmas. It was a beauty shoot, which focused on the hair and makeup. For accents, I pulled jewelry from Van Cleef and Cartier and Bulgari. I pulled a sequined Dries Van Noten collared shirt dress, and some items from Michael Kors and from Mary-Kate and Ashley’s line Elizabeth and James. When I arrived at the shoot, the photographer said, “Oh, I was hoping the clothing would be a little softer, a little more feminine.” I’m sorry, but I wanted to say, Have you
listened
to Adele’s album? The girl who sings “Rolling in the Deep” doesn’t want to be wrapped in chiffon.

On my way home, I took a detour through New York and nearly missed an interview at Kate Spade thanks to a brutal snowstorm. Suddenly it was January, six months since I gave my notice. I took the temperature of my struggling business. I was busy but not busy enough. For the first time, true regret seeped in. Had I leaped too soon? Was this going to work out? Did I have what it takes to be the boss?

D
emi Moore had nothing to wear. This would be a test of my skills as a stylist but also as a manager.

It was January 2011, and an e-mail from Demi Moore’s manager landed in my in-box. I’d worked with Demi on and off before. She was going to Brazil and then traveling to the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah, for the premiere of her film
Another Happy Day,
in which she starred opposite Ellen Barkin. A big trip, a big film, and nothing to wear.

Hey, Four Eyes!

HOW TO BUY THE RIGHT GLASSES—FOR YOU

When you’re standing at the counter looking at two hundred frames, it’s important to know: What is the look you’re going for? Do you want something meek? Do you want a big Sally Jessy Raphael moment? (I’d die to get an actual pair of her glasses.) Do you want a big, thick nerd moment? Do you want to look like a lesbian interior designer with a rectangular clear frame?

As with anything in fashion, you’re playing dress-up. You should be excited about the way you look in your glasses. Because they’re going to be on your face. You should love them. Don’t rush. I love Oliver Peoples—a company that has been making eyeglasses for almost thirty years. That’s their business. I love Gucci and Chanel. But you don’t have to spend a fortune, either. Warby Parker makes cute fashion glasses for $99 and you can buy them online.

Glasses can be a disguise. They’re a barrier between you and the world. I look different in every pair I own. They give you the instant ability to take on a different look. They’re an extension of who you are. The thick black nerd glasses I wore the first season of
The Rachel Zoe Project
? I chose them because I felt like a character in them. They inadvertently became part of my look. Glasses can do the same for you. So put the effort into finding the right pair.

I did a pull for Demi, spending three days shopping for Lanvin, Donna Karan, Valentino, Victoria Beckham—you name it, I had it. Plus, lots of chic high-heeled winter boots. We did a fitting in the morning, and I’d brought in a part-time assistant, Thomas Carter Phillips, to help. It was just a few hours before Demi was due at LAX, and the tailor was pinning four dresses. Everyone knew it was an extreme rush job. We arranged a pickup time for a few hours later. Double kiss, mission accomplished.

“Suddenly it was like
The Fast and the Furious
meets
Project Runway.
”

Except that the tailor was running late and there was a miscommunication about the drop-off location. Now Demi was at the airport wondering where her dresses were. No one should be in Brazil without her best clothing. Least of all a fashion icon whom designers love and someone I was beyond desperate to land as a client.

Thomas called to break the news. He was in the car with Demi’s dresses; that was the good news. But the bad news? “I have fifteen minutes to get to LAX before Demi takes off,” he said.

For the first time, here I was on the other side of the coin. I was the boss. My assistant was in a rough spot. But it was my reputation on the line.

Suddenly it was like
The Fast and the Furious
meets
Project Runway.
Thomas was off and running. And I was texting him directions, telling him the best way to avoid the freeways. “Turn right on La Tijera!” I texted.

And then … nothing. Thomas stopped responding entirely. Has he driven off the road? I wondered. It could have happened. I mean, there were no-texting laws for a reason. Or had Thomas missed Demi’s flight entirely, and now he was afraid to tell me? I couldn’t decide what was worse: disappointing Demi or having Thomas die in a fiery crash.

I had two choices here. I could needle this kid and continue to call him and text him and risk alienating him. Or I could trust that he was doing everything he could to get the job done. I sympathized with him. I’d been in that position before. And I decided to leave him be. He wasn’t some silly kid who thought it would be fun to work in fashion. I’d seen his work ethic on shoots. I left him alone.

But when my phone rang, I leaped for it.

“Did you get there?”

“I got the dresses to her!” Thomas said.

Fittingly, Katy Perry’s “Firework” was playing in the background of the car, and it felt right. This was a cause for celebration. It was also bittersweet. I’d found a fashion assistant I respected, and I could see potential in him. But I lost him to another job, because I couldn’t afford to pay him full-time.

10

Leap and the net will appear. Or you better own a pair of parachute pants.

WHEN THE
HOLLYWOOD REPORTER
released a list of the twenty-five most powerful stylists in March 2011, I was shocked to find that I was on the list. Granted, I was holding on at number twenty-two by little more than a fraying vintage thread, but there I was. The venerable trade publication wrote: “Rachel Zoe’s former assistant is a rising star in the stylist world. Goreski not only landed Jessica Alba as his client (she parted ways with longtime stylist Daniel Caudill) but also got the job styling designer Kate Spade’s Fall 2011 collection.”