She laughed.
“Oh, you are delightful - a real breath of fresh air. Now, I have a really old friend of mine over from the States. She is called Natasha Kysinski, her grandfather was Polish, or something like that. Anyway, she is a fashion designer, and has the most gorgeous Autumn range due to come out. She came over to see if I had anyone who would show them better than anyone else, and I immediately thought of you.”
“Me?”
“Darling, your lovely colouring, the fresh complexion and the glorious golden hair. Look at yourself. You are the colour of Autumn – golden!” she said.
I looked at my clothes and smiled. I loved the russets and browns as they seemed to go with my hair, my long tanned legs were indeed a golden colour, and my blue eyes were in marked contrast.
“Anyway, she'll be here at eleven, so I thought we would see if we could do something about your make up.”
“What is wrong with it?” I asked, rather hurt, as I had spent quite a lot of time on it.
“Dear girl, it’s fine for a pretty seventeen-year old girl, who’s fresh up from the coast. But I want you to express the excitement that is within you, that seems to be reflected in your life. You have a freshness about you that goes beyond your age and natural beauty. You have the most wonderful eyes, and if we can get them to give some hint of this excitement, and your smile is so hypnotising, then you will take the world by storm.”
I flushed slightly, and just smiled.
She took me into her office, which had a superb view over London. The huge window ran the entire width of the room, and she had white leather furniture everywhere. Her black mahogany desk was clear of clutter, except a very new PC and flat screen monitor.
“Now, coffee?”
“Thanks, white, no sugar,” I said.
She poured from the cafetiere, and added a dash of milk. Then she handed me the white mug. I sat on the white leather armchair, terrified that I would spill coffee all over it. We sat and chatted for a while, so Jemima asked me all about my father. I was as honest as I could, clearly distancing myself from his life and activities as much as I could. I did stress that although a rough diamond, he did actually assist the police and was intent on doing just that in America.
She pressed a button on her phone, and spoke a few words into the intercom.
A few moments later, a petite woman, about thirty or so, came in. She was wearing a black dress, and had quite short dark brown hair. Her glasses reminded me of Brains from the Thunderbirds puppets. She was actually quite attractive and had a friendly smile.
“Ah, Hazel, this is Alexandra, she is new to the agency, and I thought we’d see if we could make the most of her superb cheekbones and those wonderful eyes,” said Jemima, holding my cheeks and showed Hazel what she wanted. “Sandi, this is Hazel, she is my make up guru, and a super girl.”
“Okay, Sandi, is it?
“Yup, Alexandra is such a mouthful,” I said
“Shall we go and see what we can do?” Hazel asked, with a smile.
I followed her to her studio, and was amazed at all the wonderful photographs of really well known models and media stars.
She sat me down and using a cleanser, removed all my carefully applied make up. She chatted away as she worked, explaining what she was doing and why. There was a large mirror in front of me, so I watched carefully as she applied a little foundation, and then built up my new face. She used tones and colours that I had never considered particularly reds and browns. But then I was hardly an expert, just an enthusiastic amateur.
She managed to highlight my cheekbones, emphasising my eyes so much that it looked as if my eyes were three times the size. I smiled, as she showed me how to really make my lips look much fuller and even how to accentuate the pout.
“You have to remember that girls’ lips and cheeks redden when sexually aroused, and when achieving orgasm. So, the effect it has on men is pretty bloody basic.” she said, and I laughed.
In a relatively short time, she had completely transformed me, and I looked a good five years older. I loved the look, and thought that I could duplicate it with the right make up and practice.
“Shall we do something with your hair?”
“I guess so. I have to confess, it has yet to be professionally done. I just love it long and sort of wild,” I admitted.
“It's really beautiful, but I can tell you've never had a decent cut. You've natural highlights that are almost coppery gold amongst the white blonde mass. Do you bleach in the sun?”
“Yeah, a little. My hair is always paler at the end of the summer.”
“Well, I know Jemima likes the wild look too, and it's your freshness that she loves. She showed me the photos of your little show that she judged, and she was raving about you for days.”
“Really? Why?”
“I’m not sure. She was a model in the seventies, and is trying constantly to find looks that stand out and buck the trend. Fashion is a fickle business, so the success or failure of a range can rest on the right model with the right look at the right time. There are lots of very pretty models, but there are very few that immediately strike you as being different and special. You are that much different.”
“How, I seem pretty ordinary to me?”
“It's a combination of your eyes and your smile. Your eyes are much older and wiser than one expects for a girl of your age. They seem to be all knowing and rather piercing. Your face is just another pretty face, until you smile, and then you just transform yourself into being a striking beauty.”
I was very quiet, practising smiling into the mirror, but got the giggles instead. It was contagious, and Hazel giggled too.
“That’s silly. I’m just me.”
“Maybe, but Jemima is rarely mistaken, and I have to agree with her. You do have a certain something.”
She combed my hair and cut a quarter inch off the ends.
“Split ends,” she explained.
She then damped it off, as it had been washed in the shower in the morning, and spent a little while styling it slightly. She kept the length, but by a little carefully thinning and cutting, she altered the shape so it framed my face and head more effectively. With a little mousse, she gave it a shape and feel to it that was totally different to anything I had managed to achieve. It was fantastic.
I stared at myself in the mirror. The young woman who stared back at me was someone totally different. She was older, sexier and devastatingly beautiful. I felt my heart beat faster as I so wanted Dave to see me like this.
“Wow. You’re brilliant Hazel.”
She smiled.
“Ah, high praise indeed.”
“Seriously, you are really brilliant. That doesn’t look like me at all.”
“Oh, yes it does, it's just you’ve never seen her before. Do you like the look?”
“I do, very much. I hope I can remember what you did.”
“Don’t try, otherwise I’ll be out of a job.”
I laughed, but had to admit she was probably right, it would take me a long time to get halfway as good as she was.
“Okay, let's take you to see Cruella Deville,” she said.
“I love the nickname. Does she know?” I asked.
“She probably started it. Actually, she is lovely, but she’s a very tough business lady. I’d never want to cross her.”
We returned to Jemima’s office, I was amazed that it was almost noon. I had really enjoyed the time with Hazel, and felt I had found a friend already. I had to stop off at the loo on the way. I had to change my thingies. It was rather unpleasant and mucky, but it was a wonderful reminder of the miracle that had happened to me. I still couldn’t really believe it, and almost expected to wake up as Alex.
But I didn’t and went with Hazel to Jemima’s office.
Jemima was on her sofa talking to a very large blonde lady who was next to her. The latter was in a lovely looking gold and black dress, with fur trimmings. It looked rather garish, but still very elegant. Her accent was New York to a Tee. She could have been any age from forty to sixty, and I would have hated to have to guess more exactly than that. I would say she would have been stunning in her youth. Even still, she was an attractive woman, and quite a lot of one at that.