Violetta really hated Adam, she decided.
‘So shall we start?’ asked Lesley.
‘No way are you shooting me like this,’ said Violetta forcefully. ‘Fifteen minutes. OK?’
And she pushed them into the kitchen while she ran around showering and getting dressed.
‘Ready,’ she exclaimed.
And the crew came out, the cameras rolling.
Violetta picked up her black Mulberry bag and her keys, knowing she looked good. Wearing dark denim skinny jeans with a blue and white striped T-shirt and a red Chanel jacket trimmed in blue with a gold button that she had taken years ago from Birdie’s closet. Her plain black, Chanel suede flats completed the look. Her hair was up in a high ponytail and she wore a little more makeup than usual – for the cameras, she told herself.
‘To work?’ asked Lesley, noting it was after ten in the morning. Her day had started at seven, but she tried not to be envious of the perfectly put together girl with the amazing apartment.
‘I have to stop at Prada first,’ said Violetta with a smile.
Of course you do, thought Lesley ‘No problem,’ she said, and they filed out behind the glamorous Violetta.
At Prada, the camera caught the head salesperson greeting Violetta like his grandmother had just rallied from her deathbed. ‘Miss de Santoval,’ he cried, noticing the cameras but ignoring them.
Violetta smiled her greeting. ‘I need to buy some shirts.’
Lesley watched how composed Violetta was in the impressive store, not a trace of self-consciousness or guilt.
‘Of course,’ said the salesperson. ‘We have some wonderful new women’s shirts in silk and soft, soft cotton.’
‘No, I need men’s shirts.’
‘Of course, for your father,’ fawned the man. The de Santovals were some of their best customers.
At the mention of her father, Violetta stopped. ‘No, I will not be buying anything for my father,’ she said fiercely before she caught herself, remembering the camera.
Lesley watched her reaction curiously. Sure, what girl didn’t have father issues, but wasn’t this a bit much?
‘I mean, my father buys his own clothes,’ she said. ‘I need plain business shirts, well cut, maybe a 32 neck, slim fit.’ She reeled the requirements off like an expert and Lesley raised her eyebrows at the sound recordist.
They had shot the other girls earlier in the week and while they were classic Park Avenue princesses, Violetta was slightly different, Lesley thought. She couldn’t put her finger on it but there was a confidence and edginess that the other participants lacked.
Violetta and the salesperson looked at the shirts together. She touched the fabric and looked closely at the buttons.
‘Does he require a silk and cotton blend?’
‘No, his job can be kind of messy,’ Violetta said. ‘I think plain cotton is best.’
‘Of course.’
‘I will take ten of these,’ she said, holding up a plain but beautifully cut shirt.
‘Wonderful!’ exclaimed the man.
‘And I want ties to go with each one. Different ties. Nothing with motifs or gaudy.’
The salesman looked at Violetta, appalled that she would even presume that Prada had gaudy ties.
‘Not that you have anything like that… but more natural, you know?’ she said, mollifying her attendant.
‘Is he dark or fair?’ he asked as he walked over to a wooden rack and started to pull down different colours.
