Work Text:
It was after 2pm on a Thursday when Emily’s assistant walked into her office. Unlike every other fashion assistant on the planet, Madelyn was not prone to perfectly blown out topknots and thrift store Balenciaga. She wore her hair in a pixie (pre-Michelle Williams) and loved Commes des Garcons, though she had taken to breaking up her black Yohji Yamamoto with silver Proenza sandals. Emily migh be Dior to the core (and thank heavens they finally found a head designer. She had been so grateful she splurged on a Jason Wu “Jourdan” bag) but she knew the value of a different kind of assistant.
“There is this person who keeps calling you. I’ve never heard of her before but she insists she knows you.”
“Madelyn, is one of your jobs not to know everyone I know?” Emily said.
“She says she worked with you at Vogue. Name is 'Andy'. I wanted to check with you before I blocked her number.”
“Andy?”, Emily said. “Put her through the next time she calls.”
Two days later, Emily found herself on the phone with Andy.
“I’m going on Ellen,” was the first thing that Andy said.
“In the audience, I assume,” Emily said. “Not sure what that has to do with me.”
“Hilarious,” Andy said. “They picked my book for some kind of bookclub. I’m doing a television interview with her and a magazine shoot for somebody.”
“Congratulations,” Emily said. “I assume you will fit in with their poorly dressed masses of followers.”
“I want you as my stylist,” Andy said. “Ellen’s people are willing to pay your going rate. I know there are other people but no one is as good as you.”
“That is true,” Emily said. “Can you be in London this weekend? I can have my assistant add you to my schedule. The Les Miserables London premiere is next week and I can’t fly to America. Fly out and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Don’t you think I might have things to do this weekend?” Andy asked.
“Please, you work in your pajamas. I’m sure your most pressing social engagement is a Lord of the Rings marathon.”
“I’ll be there Friday afternoon,” Andy said. She sounded amused but Emily had never trusted Andy to have a sense of humor.
“I’ll transfer you to my assistant and she’ll schedule you,” Emily said.
Two days later, Madelyn walked into Emily’s office, the heels of her Proenza heels clicking.
“There is a woman in the waiting room wearing Gap jeans. Are you trying to ruin my reputation? What if someone saw her come in?”
“That’s Andy,” Emily said. “Show her in, and bring some coffee.”
Emily didn’t bother to stand as Andy walked in wearing jeans that were clearly too big for her and a hoodie. Emily was seriously starting to reconsider the effect of Andy on her business reputation when Andy started speaking, interrupting her thoughts.
“I know, I know,” Andy said. “You are horrified. Can we skip to the place where you make me look like a serious but not too serious author? This is my biggest chance and I don’t want to blow it.”
“Are you a size 6?” Emily said. “How do you expect me to pull clothes for you as a size 6? No reputable label wants to ruin their reputation by loaning clothes to a size 6, even if she is nominated for an Oscar.”
“Madelyn,” Emily called. “Can I cancel my afternoon?”
Madelyn rushed into the office. “You have Dakota at 4 and Jessica at 8.”
“That’s a no,” Emily said. “Can you extend your stay? This is going to take longer than I thought.”
“I only booked a room for one night,” Andy said.
“Of course you did,” said Emily. “Madelyn, give Andy your key. She’ll stay in the guest room.”
Emily turned to Andy, “Get some real clothes before you go near my building. Primrose Hill has a dress code.”
“I don’t-“. Andy said.
“Find something better to wear. Don’t eat anything but salad the rest of the day. We’ll shop Sunday.”
“Okay,” Andy said, seeming subdued. Emily had a brief thought that she was being too harsh and then thought of her reputation if Andy was seen in Gap jeans near her house. She would never get a job again.
Emily pulled a dozen dresses and more shoes than an ordinary person could keep track of, she didn’t get back until after midnight and Andy was already asleep.
The next morning, Emily woke at 5:30 and went out to the kitchen. Andy was in the kitchen wearing a men’s sized t-shirt, clearly a holdover from some long ago ex-boyfriend. She had made coffee. Emily poured herself a cup and let the scent waft over her. Then she put the cup down. Andy put a hand on her arm to stop her.
“Where are you going?” Andy said as she moved to stand between Emily and the door to the kitchen. Emily couldn’t help but notice that Andy was looking intently at her with her big eyes, “anime eyes” she used to say behind Andy’s back.
“If you think I am going to stain my teeth with that witches brew, you are completely crazy.”
“C’mon. One little sip,” Andy said, as she raised the cup to Emily’s mouth.
“I absolutely do not want-“, Emily said,
“Smell how fragrant it is. Doesn’t it smell wonderful?” Andy said.
“Wonderful?” Emily said. “Aren’t you a writer? Is that the best you can do?”
“The classics are the best for a reason,” Andy said as she tipped the cup just slightly. Emily put her hands over Andy’s and allowed herself a tiny sip. Then another one.
“Just one more,” Emily said. She took another sip and let go of Andy’s hands. Andy stood there holding the cup.
“I have a few friends in London who, while they don’t have anything to loan you, will as a favor to me and therefore a favor to you, let us buy at a steep discount. Try and look presentable.”
The shopping went well. All the well dressed salesgirls ignored Andy until they realized Emily was with her. Emily remembered when she used to underestimate Andy, too.
Andy had said authorial and Emily was tempted to steer her in the direction of Victoria Beckham but she felt that would be too aggressive. She had the salesgirls pull it anyway along with Valentino trousers, several Proenza dresses, an Altuzarra cardigan, some Marni and several Sophie Theallet dresses. She had them pull some McQueen and Saunders for herself because, while she usually didn’t co-shop with clients, she also didn’t usually let clients crash at her flat.
It wasn’t until Andy tried on a green Emilia Wickstead piece that Emily knew they had found what they were looking for. Emily picked up a totally street style photographable Proenza dress for herself, a pair of gold metallic sandals and a simple cocktail ring and Andy’s outfit was complete.
“There’s just one more thing I have to get,” Andy said.
Emily raised an eyebrow at Andy.
Andy went over and talked to the salesgirl, her face fully animated while Emily checked her iPhone for messages and her twitter feed for gossip.
“What was that about?,” Emily said.
“You’ll see,” said Andy.
Emily had some work to do and Andy wanted to play tourist so they agreed to meet for dinner.
Emily made it to the restaurant first and was yelling at her assistant via iPhone message when Andy came in wearing a a pair of Valentino trousers with a two button blazer. Emily suddenly felt underdressed in her Rochas pencil skirt and ribbed cardigan. The next thing she noticed was the high bun and deep red lipstick that Andy was wearing. It changed the tone of her outfit somehow.
Andy sat down at their table,
“Where did this come from,” Emily asked as she gestured in the general direction of Andy. “You certainly didn’t own that when you came to visit though I do remember that you could never resist a Valentino.”
“I was easily persuaded by the salesgirl,” Andy said “I convinced them to fit it this afternoon.”
“Convinced,” said Emily. “You mean paid.”
“I’m a writer,” Andy said. “Metaphor is good for me.”
“I’m just glad you aren’t wearing those Valentino studded heels. I think Valentino sent out a pair of those to every street style model and editor in Europe,” Emily said.
Andy looked a little guilty.
“You didn’t,” Emily said.
“Oh, you're jealous that you weren’t on their list,” Andy said.
“What makes you think I wasn’t?” Emily said. “I’m not a sheep.”
“You never were,” Andy said.
They took a cab back to Emily’s after dinner, both of them a little tipsy from too much wine. Emily sat down on the sofa and Andy joined her.
“I have a confession,” Andy said.
“Is this the part where you tell me you didn’t really need my help and this was an elaborate excuse?”
Andy looked away, fiddling with the buttons of her blazer.
“I missed you,” Andy said. “I got the job in Washington so fast and I wanted to keep in touch but there was no time. I thought I would make time.”
“You never needed an excuse,” Emily said. She laid her hands on Andy’s, stilling them.
Andy undid the buttons of her blazer and stood up, walking to the guest room. She came back with her hair down, wearing just her blouse and her trousers.
She stood above Emily. “I didn’t want to wrinkle the blazer.” Carefully she lifted her foot, resting her knee next to Emily’s thigh. She briefly lost her balance as she moved her right knee next to Emily’s thigh, straddling her lap.
“Smooth,” Emily said putting a hand on Andy’s neck. Andy rested her forehead on the crook of Emily’s neck. Emily could feel her breath through the fabric. They held in that position until Andy moved her head and softly kissed her collarbone.
“If you get lipstick on my sweater,” Emily said. “I will care much less than I should.” Emily moved her hand over Andy’s neck and, as Andy sat back, Emily ran her hands down the buttons of Emily’s blouse as Emily sat back, resting her weight on Emily’s legs.
“We really shouldn’t ruin these clothes,” Andy said. “What would Miranda say?”
“She would say you are ruining the mood,” Emily said as she carefully worked the buttons of Andy’s blouse.
“You know this isn’t fair,” Andy said. “You don’t have any buttons.”
“We can keep score later,” Emily said.
Andy leaned forward so close that as she breathed out, Emily breathed in.