Glamour (3 page)

As we enter the studio, it’s reassuring to see our camera guys already there and set up. As is the
Malibu Beach
crew. Unfortunately, there are a few other members of the
Malibu Beach
cast there as well. They’re keeping a low profile around the sidelines, but even so, it’s starting to feel a little like high noon at the O.K. Corral.

“Ready for this?” I quietly ask Paige.

She nods with a perfect smile. “I am a professional.”

“And don’t forget it,” Fran tells her as she finds a chair and sits.

Leah does some last-minute touches to Paige’s hair and then we’re mic’d up. We’re told to head onto the platform that’s arranged with three chairs and some potted palms in
back. I check to make sure I have my note cards in my pocket. I know my role is to be supportive of Paige and to jump in as needed, but I feel nervous as we greet Brogan, making small talk like we’re all old friends.

I try to act natural, but I’m still getting used to my new role in the limelight. I say a silent prayer as we’re seated and final adjustments are made to mic cords, sound, and lights.

“I want to keep this casual,” Paige tells Brogan.

“Great.” Brogan keeps a stiff smile on her face.

Our camera guy, Alistair, does the countdown and Paige speaks directly to the camera in her usual warm, friendly voice. “We’re with Brogan Braxton today. As most of you know, Brogan is one of the stars of the reality TV show
Malibu Beach.
But what you may not know is that Brogan has some other tricks up her sleeves.” She smiles at Brogan. “And those are some good-looking sleeves too.”

“Thank you.” Brogan sits a little straighter.

Paige looks back at the camera, explaining how Brogan is introducing her new line of beachwear. “We’re here to find out more about this exciting new line of clothing.” Paige turns to Brogan. “So, tell me, Brogan, what made you decide to design beachwear?”

“For starters, I’ve always loved fashion,” Brogan begins, “but I’ve been disappointed by some of the designs we get to choose from.”

“I know what you mean,” Paige agrees. “When you’re on the beach, or by the pool, you want to be stylish, but you also want to be comfortable. I remember a swimsuit I had that looked fantastic—unless I decided to move in it. Then the bottom would ride up, the top would slip down, and I’d end up looking like a case of indecent exposure.” She laughs.

“Yes. My line, The BBB, isn’t like that.”

There’s a brief pause, so I jump in. “Another thing about swimwear is that it’s nice if you can actually
swim
in it.”

Brogan looks surprised. “Well, yes, that is the point.”

“So would you say your pieces hold up well in the water?” I persist. “Have they been pool tested? What about salt water? That can really mess up some suits.”

Brogan looks stumped.

“That’s an interesting question,” Paige says to me. “I wonder how many swimwear designers actually do test their garments in the water. For instance, some fabrics hold their shape, but some get all loose and weird.” She turns back to Brogan. “Did you take that into consideration with your line?”

“Well, I am working with some other designers.”

“So the BBB line isn’t exclusively your original designs?”

“Of course they’re mine. It’s my name on the label and nothing is made without my approval.”

“Where did you train as a designer?” Paige frowns at her notes. “Actually, I see here that you haven’t been to college yet. So I guess that means you don’t have any official training.”

“Well, no, I’m only nineteen.”

“So, would you say you’re naturally gifted at design?” Paige’s smile looks a bit stiff.

“How about you?” Brogan tosses back at her. “You’re the self-proclaimed fashion
expert,
right?”

Paige laughs uncomfortably. “I guess you could say that.”

“You’re not much older than I am.” Brogan’s eyes narrow. “And if you came here thinking you were going to humiliate me today — ”

“Hey,” Paige waves her hands toward the cameras. “We might as well cut if this is going to turn into a debate. That’s not our purpose.”

Naturally, the cameras are still rolling. After all, both crews know how reality shows operate. Fran steps in and invites us to take a break.

“Let’s regroup,” she suggests, her eyes tired.

Now I feel bad. Perhaps there was something I could’ve done to keep this on track. As we retreat to opposite sides of the studio, I ask myself what I need to do to help smooth this over.

After about fifteen minutes, we all decide to
try again. Paige makes some self-deprecating jokes about how she really has no formal training either, and how it’s no big deal. “I guess we’re both just naturally gifted,” she tells Brogan. “We’re just a couple of fashion freaks.”

I know that’s true for Paige, but I think it’s an overstatement in regard to Brogan. I play along anyway. “I can attest to the fact that Paige has been studying fashion since she was little,” I tell Brogan. “I remember the time she threw a spoiled-princess hissy fit because her shoes were the wrong shade of pink to go with her dress.”

Brogan gives us a tolerant smile. “Yes, well, I suppose I’m a bit like that too.” She sits straighter in her chair. “You see, I’ve always had a knack for fashion. My friends like to come to me for advice. And, like I said, I work with some good designers.”

“So, I’m curious,” Paige continues. “When it comes time to actually put the designs together, what kind of a role
do
you take?”

Brogan’s eyes dart over to where her friends are watching. “I take a very active role. I’m very involved. I work closely with my designers. And I think when you see my show on Saturday, you’ll understand why I’m so passionate about this.”

I want to point out that we’ve already seen photos—unimpressive ones. But I know better.

“I think the design steps are so fascinating,” Paige says with enthusiasm. “I just love every aspect of it. Don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Brogan nods eagerly. “It’s exciting to see how ideas become clothes.”

“Perhaps we could visit you in your studio,” I suggest to Brogan. “It would be fun to see you at work.”

“Yes,” Paige agrees. “In fact, that’s how we usually interview designers.”

“We might be able to arrange that.” Brogan is getting cool again.

“I’m sure our viewers, and yours too, would love to see Brogan Braxton in her design mode.”

Brogan nods but looks uncomfortable. And there’s one of those pauses again.

“So do you draw the designs yourself?” I ask.

“Yes, of course.”

“That’s impressive,” Paige tells her. “You must be something of an artist then.”

Some of Brogan’s friends giggle and Brogan frowns. “I mostly just do some initial pencil sketches.”

“Do you actually sew some of the designs?” Paige asks.

Now there are more giggles, and Brogan scowls like that was a dumb question. “No. I have people who do that for me.”

“It’s just that I know a lot of designers who start out in a very hands-on sort of way,” Paige explains. “Are you saying
you’re not involved in the initial construction of your garments? Not at all?”

“Like I said, Paige,
I have people who do that for me. I’m more of an idea person.”

“So you don’t do any of the actual work?” I ask, trying to grasp what she’s really saying—what exactly is it that makes Brogan Braxton a designer?

“My job is to
direct
my designers,” Brogan explains. “I’m kind of like the queen bee with my worker bees buzzing about.” She chuckles like she’s enjoying her metaphor.

“I’m curious,” I say. “How do you do that, exactly?”

“We meet regularly and discuss ideas and styles and lines,” she says. “And, of course, I suggest colors.”

“And you probably choose fabrics too?” Paige inserts.

“Yes. Absolutely.” She nods. “I’m very hands-on when it comes to fabrics.”

“Do you have a preference,” Paige asks, “of, say, synthetic over natural fiber?”

“Oh, we use all kinds of fabrics.” Brogan looks uncomfortable again. There’s another pause, and I hope Paige uses our polka-dot bikini cue soon, as this is about the most boring interview my sister has ever conducted. It’s not entirely Paige’s fault; Brogan is about as interesting as a stump.

I decide to jump in again. “How concerned are you about how your clothing line impacts the environment?”

“Very concerned.” She nods with big eyes.

“So what are you doing to keep your carbon footprint minimal? And do you use overseas laborers, and if so, do you practice fair — ”

“I—uh—I have a guy who handles all that for me.”

“So back to the design process,” Paige says. “How do you
start thinking up a new line of swimwear? What inspires you, Brogan?”

As Brogan continues to ramble, it becomes increasingly clear that she knows very little about clothing and design. My guess is she’s a puppet and it’s her name, combined with her daddy’s money, that drives The BBB.

Finally, the interview is over. The good news is that while there were some uncomfortable moments, there were no serious catfights. The bad news is that it was probably a total waste of time.

“Do we still have to cover the fashion show on Saturday?” I ask Paige as she and I are on our way home. “I mean, what’s the point?”

“I plan to ask Helen about it,” Paige tells me. “I have a bad feeling about the whole thing. And Helen cannot expect me to act like Brogan is some great designer. Seriously, she’s clueless about design and she knows it.”

“And your fans are going to know it,” I tell Paige. “Even I can tell and I’m kind of clueless too.”

Paige laughs. “I’d put your fashion sense up against Brogan’s any day.”

“Thanks … I think.”

All day Friday, Paige and I are obsessed with putting together the final details of Mom’s bridal shower. More accurately, Paige is obsessed; I’m just trying to cooperate. And I’m trying to keep myself from saying, “Hey, it’s just a shower.” Paige seems determined to turn this event into the shower of the century. Or, more likely, she’s just indoctrinating me for what she expects I’ll do when her turn comes around. Although
she and Dylan seem in no hurry to set a wedding date (thank goodness!), I can tell she’s making plans and I’ve seen a stack of wedding magazines and notebooks in her room.

Anyway, we’re having Mom’s shower at her friend Jackie’s, who has this really amazing house in Malibu. Jackie seems content to let Paige call the shots, which is smart since it’s one of the things Paige does best. Well, that and bossing me around. It’s like she thinks I’m her personal gopher. I go for this, I go for that. Eventually I go and pick up Mollie and hope that Paige’s perfect evening is on track.

By the time my mom’s friends are all gathered around and it’s party time, I feel somewhat frazzled and worn out. Fortunately, Mom’s friends are full of energy. I’m not sure if it’s thanks to Jackie’s margaritas, which she is handing out to those who are of age, or just something in the air, but this place is hopping. Paige, playing the role of happy hostess, is in her element, flitting around as the women visit loudly between the goofy games that Paige insists must be played. Even Mollie seems caught up in the merriment and she actually wins the last game, securing the prize of Godiva chocolates.

Eventually, with my ears still ringing from the noise, I retreat to the kitchen on the pretense of making sure that everything is going okay with the caterer. But just as I’m sneaking a delicious mini lobster cake, I hear what sounds like my cell phone ringing. When I track down my purse, which Paige must’ve shoved into the pantry along with hers, I see that it’s Blake calling. I know, out of respect for my mom, that I should turn off my phone. But since I seriously doubt she will miss me, I answer.

“Hey, Blake,” I say cheerfully as I head down a back hallway. “What’s up?”

“I’m returning your call,” he says in a voice that sounds strangely businesslike. “You left me a message.”

“Yeah, like a week ago.”

“I believe it was on Monday.”

“Right.” Now I’m feeling uncomfortable, almost as if I’d called him and caught him at a bad moment, but then I remember he’s the one who called me.

“So did you have something to tell me?” he asks.

“No, not really … I mean, I think I only called to say hi and to make sure you’re doing okay. You are, aren’t you? Okay, I mean?”

“Sure. I’m great. I just finished finals week.” Now this sounds a bit more like the Blake I know—or thought I knew.

“I’ll bet that feels good to be done with.”

“Uh-huh.”

I tell him about how we’re having Mom’s shower tonight and that I was just taking a little break from all the craziness.

“Which reminds me of something,” he says in a formal voice.

“What’s that?”

“Well, I kind of assumed we’d be together at your mom’s wedding and all that …”

“Yeah?” I’m getting a funny feeling.

“As you must know, that’s not going to happen now and I didn’t want to just leave it hanging. I know the wedding’s next weekend and there’s that dinner the night before and whatever. So I just figured I should talk to you, Erin. Just so we’re on the
same page.”

As soon as he says “same page,” I remember how I said those exact words to him last week. Somehow it feels like he’s on a different page than I am now.

“You’re not coming to my mom’s wedding?”

“Oh, I’ll still come if you want me to. I mean, I do have an invitation. Unless you’d like to uninvite me.”

“No, of course not.”

“And your mom is my friend too.”

“Yes. Absolutely.” I feel confused and slightly irritated.

“So I guess I’ll still come then.”

“Good.” Now
my
voice sounds stiff and formal.

“Anyway, have a good shower. See you around.”

“Thanks. See ya.” As I hang up I shake my head. What’s up with Blake? Why is he acting so weird? And was that what I thought it was—is he trying to dump me? Or did this actually happen last week? Maybe I dumped him and we’re both just figuring it out now. And if that’s what’s going on, why does it feel so lousy?