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‘Damn these Louis Vuitton heels’ are the only thoughts running through my scrambled head as I’m observing these glamorous socialites around me. There’s Zendaya, my main focus, and then there’s Harris Dickinson with his chic silver suit, paired with a velvet black tie. His whole attire is tied together with a 1920s-esc slick back and a curl hanging over his forehead.
I’m here because I’m scoping out the celebrity fashion scene. My peer, Angie, managed to get me into this party so I could “study the prestigious.” More like the pretentious. I don’t like actors, per se.
For my apprenticeship as a costume designer on a new movie I was doing, it was all about Prada desert-luxury and bejeweled royals with a dark palette. She had told me the costuming was inspired by ancient God iconography, Star Wars, and insects.
Yeah, insects.
I got lucky after my last apprenticeship on the newly released Elvis movie, directed by the dazzling, slightly eccentric, Baz Luhrmann. My friend of a friend who has an aunt who knows a guy, got me a job after (somehow) sending my fashion school resume to the costume designer. The wonderful Catherine Martin. Oh how I adored that woman.
Anyway, back to observing.
My gaze drags over the usual. Will Poulter, Jonathon Bailey, Colman Domingo, Olivia Dejonge (who I chatted with earlier), Gigi Hadid, Lily-Rose Depp, Ayo Edibiri…and then him. Austin Butler. The handsomest in the room, well, maybe not compared to THE James Marsden who glanced my way for a split second thirty minutes ago.
I did say I hate actors, but they’re easy on the eyes sometimes.
Olivia was my exception, though. She’s grounded, witty, and makes sure you feel included no matter the setting. Then again, she’s one of the only actors I’ve actually interacted a lot with and sort of became acquainted with. I’m just saying a lot of the time actors dismiss you, avoid any conversation and pretend like you’re inferior. Okay, maybe I take it a little too personally, but can you blame me when so many are jaded like that?
I hadn’t interacted much with Austin, but he met me with kind eyes and attitude whenever I did. He thanked me every time he saw me for sewing his costume or just even writing down the changes he wanted to make. He’d shoot me warm smiles whenever he saw me and even memorized my name.
He said hi to me whenever he passed in that gorgeous Elvis 70s attire. Those 70s jumpsuits had me in a chokehold, I swear.
What I’m trying to say is that he was nice on the surface, but I had no clue about what lay beneath. What’s that saying? They lie to one another, they speak with flattering lips and double hearts.
Tonight, he was dressed by YSL so obviously with that black double-breasted suit, combined with a black tie that had two silver strips along the top of it. Baggier fitted pants and sleek, freshly shined dress shoes. Basic, but classy. It suited him.
The ironic thing was that I’d be spending yet again even more time with that man, because he was casted in the same movie I was helping costume design. Dune Part Two.
The movie was still very secret and I remember Denis telling us to not say anything. Oh, but how could I not when I was working on a huge trilogy piece made by that genius Quebecian man? Bladerunner 2046 was a big deal for me and my father, so to speak.
I look Austin up and down from the marble wall I’m leant against, making note of his newly more muscled figure and how the clothes fit. I’d be lying though to say I wasn’t totally checking him out, but I made sure to make it subtle use in case he had to suddenly turn to the side for whatever reason.
Oh, and that’s just my luck because he does. It’s like he has a sixth sense or something because he turns his head right to his left, and I knew averting my eyes suddenly would make me even suspicious of my crime so I just gave him a close-lipped smile. And then he does that thing where he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He just looks at me with an almost…entranced expression, but it’s gone in a second.
Like it’s a trick of the light.
He shoots a brighter smile than I gave my way, and even waves. I wave back, smiling bigger because he’s just that infectious even from across the room. He radiated this type of alluring aura that just pulsated heavily off of him. Maybe it was the eyes, or the way he spoke to you, or maybe he was just a good guy. Maybe.
I’m caught off guard once he starts to word things to me, his mouth accentuating the syllables so I could understand. I didn’t understand, so I just gave him a quizzical look. A quizzical look because why was he talking to me when he was surrounded by such celebrities and also because I hadn’t even seen him in four months.
He words it slower the second time, and I can finally make out what he’s trying to say.
’Are you alone?’
And suddenly, I’m looking around myself at the question. I am, but it would’ve been weirder to observe celebrities with another person, I think.
I nod once I make eye contact with him again, and he lifts a hand up to motion for me to come over. He’s giving me a look that says “that’s bullshit, come over.” He’s got his lips pressed together and his eyebrows furrowed.
I give him a wide eyed look. Why the hell was the biggest rising star in the entire room asking me, the costume designer intern, to come over? I’m surprised he even remembers me at all. All we had were passing conversations and short laughs when his pants ripped from all his dancing.
He waves me over again, this time with a bigger smile that reaches his eyes. The corners of them crinkled from how large it was.
I push my confusion to the side as I begin to walk across through the sea of people to get to him because what was a girl supposed to do? NOT go over when Austin Butler was beckoning you?
I squeeze past these chattering tall figures with small “sorry’s” and “excuse me’s.” They don’t give me any acknowledgment besides slightly moving out of the way by their friend moving them.
Once I reach Austin and the small circle of people he’s with, he pulls me into a warm hug that reminds me of all the reasons why I liked him. Well, why I thought he was a decent guy and not an asshole like most of the actors I’ve worked with recently and even back in the days when I was a coffee runner girl.
I hug Austin back and there’s a light squeeze in it before he pulls away, resting his ringed hands on my upper arms as he begins to speak to me.
”Viv!” He said loud enough over the booming music, some kind of remix of “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record).
I’m triple-shocked by the fact that he even remembers my name! Well, my nickname. Baz started calling me Viv ever since he’d met me. I guess Vivienne was too long and took too much time in a sentence to speak since time was always of the essence on that set.
“It’s so good to see you! You look amazing.” That compliment has the skin of my neck turning pink.
It was unfair, really. To be so good looking, charismatic, charming, kind, and effortlessly making people swoon with a single sentence or even look their way. I have to remind myself to reel it back in since I hadn’t known him that well and I was not one to back down on my opinion for actors. Well…maybe just most actors now.
I almost trip over my words, but I catch myself. “Thank you! It’s so good to see you too! I’ve missed stitching you up, Mr.Butler.” I grasp his arms as well so I could figure out what to do with my clamming hands. Maybe I shouldn’t be touching this beautiful suit with sweaty hands.
“Oh god, don’t do the ‘Mr.Butler’ thing, please.” He winces slightly, his lips still holding a smile though. But he knows it was only a playful name upon the sudden meeting. He gives me a once-over before speaking again, “I heard you’re costuming for Dune, yeah?”
Oh, so he had heard. Catherine probably told him.
“Yeah! I’m super, super excited. I’ve got sketches and wardrobe almost done before you guys start filming. I hope you like the color black.” I give a slightly shy smile. His hands have been lingering on my arms for what already feels like a whole eternity and I fear if they stay there any longer the blush will creep to my cheeks.
”Oh, shoot…black?” He feigns a displeased look, and I laugh at his teasing. “Not really my color…” He jokes again. I had remembered him saying it was his favorite color when we conversed about the color palette for Elvis while I untangled the tassels on his jumpsuit. It made me realize just how often he wore the color.
“No, I’m so pumped to see your gorgeous work, Viv. You’re so incredibly talented.” God, someone catch me when I fall. I try my absolute hardest not to flush in front of him.
But it is so, so hard when he’s towering above you and looking beautiful and attentive—
“Stop, you’re inflating my ego.” I tell him, and he laughs. I made Austin Butler laugh. HA!
I smooth out his suit along his arms because I cannot keep them still anymore. I just can’t. And this makes him look down on my hands, extending his arms out so I can do it properly.
He just lets me do it.
“You’re the one here who deserves all the praise. God, I can’t even…I can’t even over that flawless performance. You are in-credible.” I accentuate my last word so it sticks with him. Then I’m about to pass out again because when I look up I see him looking bashful with a bit of blush tinging his cheeks.
I made him laugh and blush in one minute. Flex for life, in my opinion.
”Thank you, seriously. That means a lot to me.” He makes sure he’s looking in my eyes sincerely when he says that.
He’s still smiling, but his eyes are hypnotizing yet emotional. He said it like God himself was praising him.
We chat for another few short minutes about Elvis, and then Dune before he’s swept away by another man telling him he needed to be somewhere.
He departs from me with an apology and kisses my hand quickly before he makes his exit. It’s too quick to even register before he leaves.
I stand there, absolutely fucking dumbfounded because…
What the fuck just happened?
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