Catwalk. Part 2

"And then the following Thursday it's off to New York-for the real real Fashion Week," Fran announces happily. "Leah's already got it all booked." Fashion Week," Fran announces happily. "Leah's already got it all booked."

"That's right," Leah confirms. Leah just graduated from film school, something I barely started, and yet Leah's job is pretty much to keep Paige and me comfortable and happy and successful. Fran's made it clear numerous times that if we need anything, we call Leah and she will deliver. If I think about it too hard, it almost hurts my head. "I'll email you the itinerary in a day or two," Leah promises. "I'm still working on the hotel, which is a challenge to say the least. I'm hoping you won't have to switch hotels midstream, but Fashion Week really ties that town into knots."

"But Fashion Week doesn't start until the following week," Helen points out. "What's the big rush?"

"I want the girls there early to interview the New York designers," Fran explains.

Helen looks skeptical. "Do you seriously think the New York designers will give you the time of day during the week before their big event?"

"I've already talked to a couple of designers who are interested." Fran looks down at her notebook. "I think we've got the Olsen twins on board too, right, Leah?"

Leah nods. "And I've got some good tips on some of the newest and possibly hottest models, and I'm thinking they should be eager for some airtime. We're lining up some of the morning news shows and-"

"Oh, I just remembered something." Helen holds a finger in the air importantly. "My good friend Eva Perez has a daughter, Taylor Mitch.e.l.l, who's modeling in New York. And I want you girls to meet her and have her on the show."

"You mean Eva Perez the singer?" Fran asks.

"That's right."

"So is Eva's daughter any good as a model, or is this just a friendly goodwill gesture on your part?" Fran looks dubious.

"From what I hear, Taylor is considered to be quite good."

"I know who that is," Paige says suddenly. "Taylor Mitch.e.l.l originally modeled exclusively for Dylan Marceau, not long after his debut. She was eighteen and just out of high school. But she quickly became such a hot commodity that she can work for anyone now. And, trust me, the girl is absolutely gorgeous-she does both print and runway."

Helen smiles at Paige. "It's lovely to know that someone is doing her homework."

Paige beams at the compliment.

"So, here's what I'm thinking, girls. What if you actually stayed in the apartment with Taylor and her roommate for a night or two? I mean stay there with with cameras running, like a reality show-a day or two in the life of a supermodel. I ran this idea by Eva the other night at dinner, and she said that thanks to Taylor's roommate's healthy budget, the apartment is quite large and luxurious. At least according to Manhattan standards. So you should be comfortable." cameras running, like a reality show-a day or two in the life of a supermodel. I ran this idea by Eva the other night at dinner, and she said that thanks to Taylor's roommate's healthy budget, the apartment is quite large and luxurious. At least according to Manhattan standards. So you should be comfortable."

"Well, aside from the cameras running," I say. "I a.s.sume they won't be running twenty-four seven."

"No, I'm sure they'll let you use the bathroom in private." Helen winks at me.

"Do you really think Taylor and her roommate would agree to this?"

"Eva confided to me that the roommate, the one whose parents actually own the apartment, really wants to make it in fashion. And that she'd probably be glad to have you girls there...if she can get some good airtime on your show. My guess is that Taylor will be okay since it was her mom who helped hatch this idea."

Paige nods. "This could be awesome."

"Now the plan is to do this after after Fashion Week," Helen explains. "The girls won't be as busy by then, but it will still be a nice little slice of their life. Then we'll run it as our follow-up show after the actual Fashion Week episode. And after that, we'll zip you girls back here to do the red carpet at the Oscars. How does that sound?" Fashion Week," Helen explains. "The girls won't be as busy by then, but it will still be a nice little slice of their life. Then we'll run it as our follow-up show after the actual Fashion Week episode. And after that, we'll zip you girls back here to do the red carpet at the Oscars. How does that sound?"

The truth is I think it all sounds rather exhausting. I can't even wrap my mind around it. But Paige seems to take this, like the rest of this business, in stride, and I guess if she can keep up, I can too. After all, she's the one with the most pressure to perform.

"And I think we can milk two or more episodes out of Fashion Week alone," Fran is telling Helen now. "The first show will focus on the designers in their studios, the models as they prepare and all that. It will be a great buildup for the next show-the actual Fashion Week show."

"Great!" Helen claps her hands. "We'll get at least three shows out of New York then. Brilliant."

Paige and I are kept uber-busy during the following week, literally running all over town to attend the local fashion shows. But the payoff is that these events are actually a lot easier than the previous week when we were interviewing designers. Mostly our crew just films snippets of the shows. (We're not allowed to film too much since it seems most designers suffer from a serious paranoia that someone is going to steal their designs.) Then Paige does some quick interviews behind the scenes. Meanwhile, I mostly hang out with my camera, try to look necessary, and practice filming.

But on Sat.u.r.day morning, we have to make an appearance at Granada's studio for our fitting session. This is to be followed by a dress rehearsal for the show, which is scheduled for Sunday afternoon-just one part of LA's pre-Fashion-Week warm-up. As I park my Jeep with Paige fidgeting next to me, I realize the pressure is on. And everything could easily go wrong.

"I am not looking forward to this," Paige warns me as we stand outside the studio, waiting for Lucinda to come and unlock the door so we can go inside.

"Just be a good sport," I say.

"The hardest part is that I really don't want to offend her."

"Seriously?" I have to laugh at the ludicrousness of this. "Since when has that stopped you before?"

"Well, I like her. And I like the things she stands for too."

Go figure. But it does give me hope. For Paige, that is. I'm not so sure about this fashion show. Soon we are inside where a number of the other models are trying on clothes, not including Sunera, who isn't due to arrive until this evening.

"What? No cameras today?" Lucinda smiles as she hands me several hangers' worth of clothing, wrapped in what I'm guessing is a recycled sheet.

"We'll save that for tomorrow," Paige tells her.

"Granada wants you to meet her in back," Lucinda says to Paige.

The room is buzzing with girls trying on outfits and cooperating with seamstresses and stylists. I learn that I'm only expected to model one ensemble, a huge relief because I doubt that I'd be coordinated enough to perform the quick changes I've seen models make during a fast-paced show. I'm sure Lucinda realizes that I'm slightly fashion-challenged, so she sticks around to help me and make sure I get the pieces on right.

"I love it," I tell Lucinda when I emerge from the dressing room for my final inspection. The A-line skirt is made from recycled men's ties that look like they're from the fifties. It has an asymmetrical hemline that actually seems to make me look taller. And this is topped with a white blouse created with pieces of patchwork lace, again recycled fabric, with a pure organic cotton camisole underneath and a fitted black wool vest on top.

"That vest is made from a recycled sweater that was boiled to shrink the knit tightly like that," Lucinda informs me. "And the b.u.t.tons are from the forties."

"I really love it," I tell her as I look in the mirror. "I might have to buy the whole thing."

She grins. "I'm sure that can be arranged." Then she helps me with a red belt, which is made from a recycled seatbelt and old rodeo buckle. And my shoes are a pair of red Mary-Jane clogs made from hemp and vegetable dyed. I know Paige wouldn't be caught dead in these shoes, but I think they're fantastic. Not to mention comfortable.

"Well, I'm a happy camper," I a.s.sure Lucinda. "If it's okay, I'll look around to see how the other models are doing."

"And I'll check on your sister." Lucinda's anxious expression is probably reflective of mine. "Hopefully it's not going too badly."

I walk around the room and am surprised to see that there's really quite a variety of styles going on. Something for everyone. I even ask the models about how they like the garments and wish I had my camera as I hear, again and again, how comfortable, how breathable, how soft the materials are.

"I'm so used to suffering when I model," a pale redhead tells me. "I just expect to be tortured during the fitting right up until the runway. But Granada's clothes are delightful. I already have a few pieces in my closet and by tomorrow, I expect to have a few more."

And so it goes. I decide that even if Paige hates her outfit, at least she can get some good quotes from the other models tomorrow. Then I hear Granada calling my name, and the next thing I know I'm ushered into the back room where Paige is wearing white linen pants-that fit perfectly-topped with a recycled lace blouse similar to mine, only longer and worn as a jacket, with a pale blue camisole underneath. Her sandals and low-slung belt are both made of natural hemp. I think she looks great.

"I love that outfit," I tell her.

She nods at Granada. "I have to admit it's really comfortable."

"Something you could wear on an island vacation or just out to lunch with the girls," Granada suggests.

"Or on the runway tomorrow." Paige grins.

Granada's brows lift. "So I've managed to convince you then?"

Paige fingers the lace on her blouse. "I won't say I'm a total convert, but I guess green doesn't have to be frumpy."

"And you'll do my show?" Granada looks hopeful.

"For sure." Paige nods.

"And we're pretty sure your fashion show will be on Runway Runway next week," I tell her. next week," I tell her.

"But we can't make promises," Paige reminds me. "That's up to the editors."

"But I pleaded your case," I say.

Granada doesn't seem concerned. "C'est la vie."

I let out a sigh as Granada goes to check on something with one of the models. Catastrophe averted. Paige may never laud Granada Greenwear as haute couture haute couture, but at least she's giving the line a fair shake.

We go through the paces of walking on the catwalk, and although Paige takes to it like a fish to water, it's harder than I expected. Finally Granada tells me to simply be myself. "Just relax, Erin," she urges me. "We'll let the audience know that you're not a pro."

"Maybe she should carry her camera," Paige teases. "That always puts her at ease."

Granada nods. "Great idea. Erin, you will carry your video camera. And I'll comment on that and how that's part of your persona for your show. It'll work just fine."

"And Erin could even pretend to be shooting footage of the audience," Paige suggests.

"Perfect." Granada grins at Paige. "Very fun."

"Only I won't be pretending," I tell them. "I'll really be filming and maybe it'll end up on next week's show." At least that's how I hope it will go. I suppose there's always the possibility I could fall flat on my face. But at least we're not wearing stilettos.

By the time Paige and I head home later in the day, we're both feeling fairly positive about tomorrow's fashion event. "It might even be fun," I admit. "I really like the camera idea. Thanks for suggesting it."

"So what are you doing tonight?" Paige asks as I pull into the condo parking lot and snag a s.p.a.ce.

"Fellowship group," I tell her as I turn off the engine. "Want to come?"

"Not this time."

"But you keep telling me that you're going to come sometime," I remind her. "Why not tonight?"

"Because I have a date tonight."

"A date? With who?"

"Benjamin."

"Really?" For some reason-I honestly don't know why, because I shouldn't be surprised-this floors me. Benjamin Kross might be the hottest thing on reality TV and the star of Malibu Beach Malibu Beach, but I thought Paige had been hurt enough by him. And I had hoped that since he'd kind of faded into the woodwork lately, Paige had told him to take a hike.

"Yes. And don't get all grumpy about it."

"I'm not."

"I promised him the night of the Golden Globes that if he left me alone for two weeks, I'd consider going out with him."

"Even after what he did to you?" I still try to block out that horrible day when Benjamin Kross and Mia Renwick pulled their little stunt on Malibu Beach Malibu Beach, acting like Paige had lied and cheated and attempted to break apart the "happy couple," when in reality Paige had turned out to be their publicity victim.

"I thought Christians were supposed to forgive people." She eyes me curiously as we walk up the stairs to our condo unit. "Are you ever going to forgive Benjamin?"

I shrug. I hate to admit that she's right. "I guess I have to...if you do."

"Well, I have forgiven him. And, if it makes you feel any better, he's apologized so many times that I actually begged him to quit."

"So do you think he really learned his lesson?" I ask as we go inside.

"I seriously doubt that he'll ever do something like that again."

"Something like what?" Mom asks from the kitchen. "Who are we talking about?"

Paige fills her in on Benjamin and her two-week promise. "So tonight is the big night."

"I thought he was getting together with that dark-haired girl, the one on the show. Natalie or-"

"Natasha," Paige offers. "No, Mom, he said that was just Natasha chasing after him and the editors playing it up so that they could use some jealous shots of Mia. You know how it goes."

I study my mom. "You actually watched Malibu Beach Malibu Beach?"

Mom chuckles. "Someone at work had recorded it and it was playing in the break room. I couldn't help myself."

"I recorded it here," Paige says with a smile. "I watched it too...the next day."

I laugh and roll my eyes. "So I'm the only one in the family who didn't?"

"It's probably still in the TiVo," Paige tells me, "if you want to see it."

"No thanks." I wave my hand and head for my room.

"But you will forgive him?" Paige calls after me.

"Yes," I call back. But I'm thinking it will take more than two weeks before I forget what Benjamin did to my sister. And I'll probably be paying close attention to make sure he doesn't do it again. In fact, I might even start watching Malibu Beach. Malibu Beach. Or not. Or not.

Chapter 4.