Most of them aren’t sure what’s going on but there are a few who recognize me which makes their expressions even more amusing. I can imagine the gossip headlines already.
Is Fashion Designer Andre Lavin cracking under the pressure?
Considering that I’ve made a name for myself by designing couture suits from only the best materials in the world, I can understood why the bystanders are shocked to see me wearing ripped denim and a casual T-shirt. If my mother could see me now she’d be worried about my mental health.
I ride the elevator up to the top floor of the hotel where I’ve reserved the Presidential Suite for the next month. As soon as I open the door, Philippe looks up from where he’s making a drink at the minibar. It’s not even noon but I don’t say anything. As much as we’ve both been through over the past few months, I’m not going to fault him for needing a drink to get through the day. Hell, I might even join him.
“Ciao, Andre.” When he gets a good look at my clothes, his forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Stai bene?”
“I’m fine. I’m cool.” I answer in English. We’re going to be in the States for a few months at least, so I’m determined to catch up on my American slang. “I took your advice.”
He still looks confused. “And my advice was to go outside looking like a less-fortunate child?”
“No. This is how all the Americans dress on TV. You told me that if I was tired of the gold diggers chasing me that I should go out into the world as a regular man. So I did.”
My stomach clenches again thinking of the clumsy American girl I’d met outside the cafe. It’s difficult to find good cappuccino anywhere other than Italy in my opinion but the small shop is the closest thing I’ve found in the city so far. Now it might be my new favorite place.
“You went outside dressed like that?” Philippe looks horrified. “I meant try wearing a suit that isn’t one of your custom designs. A less expensive watch. Not to go outside looking like a… what’s the word?” He snaps his fingers as he thinks. “A slob! That’s it.”
I look down at my shirt. My assistant assured me this was a completely normal type of outfit for a man to wear in a casual setting. The T-shirt is a cotton blend that feels stiff against my skin so I’m not sure why anyone finds this comfortable but I’m trying to blend in.
That’s when I realize he’s talking about the huge, brown coffee stain on the front of my shirt.
“I assure you, the coffee stain wasn’t intentional. But still, it was incredibly liberating to spend an afternoon with no one asking me for anything.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts. Soon you’ll have even more people asking you for things. You’re poised to become a household name, brother.”
I grunt in reply as I head to the kitchen. He’s right and it has been a huge part of why I was all too happy to relocate to the States while undergoing a brand relaunch. My advertising agency designed a great campaign for the launch of Lavin Fashions new bridal line and now they’re going to rebrand the core Lavin Fashions business.
Me. Essentially they’re going to rebrand me.
Since I learned to sew as a young boy under the direction of my nanny I’ve been in love with the idea of creating the clothes people live their lives in. Men go to some of the most important events in their lives wearing my designs– graduations, business meetings, weddings, even funerals.
This is a big deal.
It’s a strange thing to think of a company redesigning my image. But I long ago relinquished any personal rights to my name and likeness. Andre Lavin is more than just who I am, it’s my company, my legacy and I know how incredibly lucky I am to do what I love each day.
If I have to sacrifice some of my sanity, then so be it.
5
The weekend passes quickly and Monday morning I’m back in another suit, my usual uniform. After a particularly unproductive morning, I manage to escape the office. But after wandering aimlessly for almost an hour, I have to admit that my attempt at relaxation is a failure. Disgusted with myself, I finally just hail a cab back to my hotel.
Only to find my mother waiting for me.
“Mamma. What are you doing here?” I bend down to kiss her cheek, noting her floor length evening gown.
An optimist would assume that she just left a function and was merely stopping by to say hello on her way home. But I’m not sure anyone could grow up with my mother and remain an optimist. She must want something.
A buzzing starts behind my left eye that is surely going to develop into a hell of a headache later.
“Did you forget the Heritage Charity Dinner is tonight?” Mamma’s lips purse into a small frown as she takes in my appearance. While walking I slipped off my suit jacket and removed my tie. “Are you unwell?”
I resist the urge to grin. “Not yet. But the night is young.”
She sniffs. “Don’t be impertinent. I was merely asking because it’s not like you to look so unkempt. Not that I should be surprised the Americans are rubbing off on you.”
This time I do laugh. “My best friend is American, or have you forgotten? I thought you liked Jason.”