Becoming Elle

It was Elaine's first day at university. And not even her first proper day. It was the first day of Orientation Week, which, for some reason, began on a Tuesday. The chap (who she would later discover was Max) was sitting on the low stone wall, carefully watching the new arrivals. He appeared to be waiting for someone. And then, suddenly, he was on his feet and approaching Elaine, a hand stretched out in front of him, holding a small card.

'Hello,' he said. 'Are you a model?'

'A model?' Elaine laughed. 'I don't think so.'

'You should be,' he said. 'I'm Max, by the way. I'm a photographer. Fashion. Well... mainly fashion. Here's my card.'

Elaine looked at it. Max Milsom. Photographer. And there was a telephone number and an email address.

'Here. Take it,' he said. 'Are you sure you're not a model?'

Elaine shook her head. 'Not me.'

Max was a pleasant-looking fellow. Probably still in his late 20s. And he had a definite twinkle in his eye. 'Well, as I say, you should be,' he said.

Elaine laughed again. 'I need to get to this... thingy,' she said. 'I'm late as it is.'

Max smiled. 'OK. But call me. You have my number. We'll sort out a time. Do some test shots.'

Elaine smiled and continued on her way.

'Oh. Your name?' Max called out. 'I didn't catch your name.'

For a moment of two, Elaine said nothing. And then she said: 'Elaine.'

'Elaine. Nice. OK, Elaine. I shall await your call.'

When Elaine reached the entrance to the lecture theatre, Thea, an old classmate from St Hilda's, was waiting for her. 'I thought that you must have decided to run away and join the circus,' Thea said.

'No. You know. Trains. Buses. I'm still finding my way around. And then I got stopped by a photographer,' Elaine told her. 'He said that I should be a model.'

Thea laughed. 'Blokes, eh? Anything to get a girl's phone number.'

'Actually, he gave me his number,' Elaine said. 'He wants me to call him.' And she showed Thea Max's business card.

'What did you say?'

'I didn't. But he wants to make a time to do some test shots.'

'Are you going to? Phone him, I mean.'

'I don't know,' Elaine said. 'He didn't seem like a weirdo or anything. In fact he was quite cute. I don't know. I guess we'll see.'

Thea laughed again. 'He just wants you to get your kit off. Anyway, we'd better get a seat,' she said. 'I think this thing is about to kick off.'

* * *

Max's studio was in a non-descript building just north of the Tottenham Court Road Tube Station.

'It's very quiet here, Elaine said. 'Is this building empty? I mean apart from here. Obviously.'

'Pretty much,' Max said. 'There's a publisher on the floor above. Technical books mainly. But that's it. There used to be an electronics repair place on the ground floor, but they've moved. The building was due to be pulled down and redeveloped. But, so far, nothing. Not that I'm complaining. It almost costs me more to rent a car parking space across the road than it does to rent the studio. Now... let's see... what are we going to do?'

What were they going to do? Max had rigged a canvas backdrop that looked a bit like a stormy sky. And he had a rackful of fashionable clothes. 'What takes your fancy?' he asked. Elaine was just about to choose a navy and red dress when Jenny arrived. 'Ah. Jenny,' Max said. 'You're here. Good.'

'Yeah. Sorry. Chaos on the Northern Line,' Jenny said. 'It's the same every Saturday. I should know better by now, shouldn't I?'

Max made the introductions. 'Jenny looks after hair and makeup,' Max told Elaine. 'Now... we're just trying to decide what Elaine should wear.'

Jenny looked Elaine up and down and then rifled through the garments. 'This navy number might work,' she said, choosing the same dress that Elaine had been about to choose. 'And maybe this apple green shift dress. You have a hint of red in your hair,' she said to Elaine. 'The green will bring that out. Green, red. Always works well. Usually anyway.'

'Yeah. Good thought,' Max said.

* * *

'How was it?' Thea asked when she and Elaine met up later for a coffee.

'Umm... surprisingly hard work.'

'Did he get you to take your kit off?'

'Take my kit off?'

'Yeah. Did you get your boobs out? Did he photograph you in the buff?'

'No. He does fashion stuff,' Elaine said. 'Clothing. For magazines. Vogue. Harper's. Prima. You know. And also for a couple of the designers. Suzy Trondo. Peter Phipps. I think there might be another one too.'

'No nudes then. Maybe he's keeping that until next time.'

'Don't think so,' Elaine said. 'But he thinks that I should change my name. Just for the modelling.'

'Oh?'

'He thinks I should be Elle.'

'What? Just the letter L? That's a bit weird, isn't it? Like Q in James Bond.'

'No. Not just L. E double-L E. Like the French word. Like the magazine Elle. He thinks it'll sound more fashiony.'

Thea frowned but nodded.

* * *

It was the middle of the following week when Max phoned. 'We have a bite,' he said. 'Micky Martin. He's Suzy Trondo's art director. Wants to book us for a shoot next Monday afternoon.'

'Monday?'

'Monday. Three o'clock.'

'I have a class on Monday,' Elaine said.

'What time?'

'Three o'clock.'

'You might have to skip it,' Max said. 'Once Micky has fallen in love with you, we can probably negotiate a bit. But at this stage.... We need to get him on the hook. Oh, and he'll probably want to go for a drink afterwards. But it's OK; we'll bill him for our time.' And Max laughed.

'It'll be my first lecture,' Elaine said.

'Get someone to take notes for you,' Max said. 'It's just one lecture. Hardly the end of the world. And a shoot for Suzy Trondo....'

'I might need you to take notes for me on Monday afternoon,' Elaine told Thea. 'I have a shoot.'

'A real one?'

'Seems like it. Suzy Trondo. Well... one of her people anyway.'

'Well done, that girl,' Thea said.

* * *

The moment that Elaine saw Micky, she just knew that he had to be gay. He was wearing a pair of jeans that had to be a thousand years old. And a single-breasted blazer that would have taken a team of top tailors a week to make. But it was his boots that really gave him away. Yellowy tan leather. Elegant yet casual. If either she or Max was going to be a candidate for Micky's casting couch, it was going to be Max. Elaine was going to be safe from any #MeToo complications.

'How tall are you?' Micky asked.

'Umm ....' The hard questions first. 'How tall did we decide?' Elaine asked Max.

Max glanced down at something on small table just to the left of where he was setting up one of the lights. 'Umm... one metre seventy-five. And a smidge' he said.

Micky nodded. 'And do you do catwalk? Runway?'

'Not yet,' Max said, answering on Elaine's behalf. 'But that will be Elle's next move.'

Elle? Was Elaine Elle already? Oh, well.

Micky nodded again. 'OK. Anyway... we can talk about that later. Let's get these snaps out of the way first, shall we?'

On her first visit to the studio, Elaine had found working with Max reasonably easy. Well... after the first twenty minutes or so. Once they had got into the swing of things. But now, with Micky added to the mix, it was all a bit more stressful.

Elaine (or was she now Elle?) tried to focus on Max. But she found it impossible to block out Micky, who was perched, like a bird of prey -- a marsh harrier perhaps? -- on a high stool just a little behind and to one side of Max. With each flash of the Balcar strobes, Micky seemed to blink. Slowly. Yes. Definitely some sort of bird of prey.

'OK. Let's have a look at how we are going, shall we?' Max said after about ten minutes. And he put down his camera and went and adjusted the rake on the monitor. For what seemed (to Elaine) like forever, Max and Micky stared at the screen, watching the passing parade of images. And then Micky said: 'I think that Elle is looking too... polite. Too... well-behaved.'

Max nodded. 'What's the naughtiest thing you have ever done?' he asked Elaine.

For a moment or two, Elaine said nothing. And then she laughed. 'I don't think that you really want to know,' she said.

'Oh, but I do,' Max told her. 'Maybe later. But, in the meantime, that's what I want you to think about. OK? The naughtiest thing you have even done. Now let's go again, shall we?' And, once again, the Balcar strobes began flashing.

'Yes!' Micky said. 'Yes. Much better.' And he cackled. (He was definitely gay. There was no way that he could not be.)

* * *

When they had photographed all three garments, Max led the little band -- Elaine/Elle, Micky, and Jenny -- around to a small bar at the lower end of Charlotte Street. Max seemed to be 'on terms' with the non-smiling patron. Max pointed to a table. Le patron nodded. And then Max made a circular gesture with his forefinger that included the gang of four. Le patron nodded again, went away for a moment or two, returned with a bottle of chilled white wine and four glasses, and began to pour.

'Thanks, Dave,' Max said.

'Welcome,' le patron replied.

Le patron returned for a second time with a glass of chilled water which he placed next to Elaine's wine glass.

'Cheers, Dave,' Max said.

'So...,' Micky said. 'Catwalk?'

Max nodded. 'Yes. Soon. Elle doesn't want to be just another catwalk model,' he said. 'She wants to be up there with the best of the best. Lianne Mallory is going to be giving her some coaching.'

'Lianne Mallory,' Micky said with a look of surprise. 'Good. Very good. How did you pull that?'

'Lianne owed me one,' Max said with a smile.

It was the first that Elaine had heard about it.

Micky cackled and raised his glass in a silent toast.

* * *

'So.... Tell me all about it,' Thea said. 'What did you have to do?'

'Umm....'

'What was the bloke like?'

'Micky? He was like a well-dressed bird of prey. A marsh harrier, perhaps. And he was gay. Or at least I assume that he was. Yes. A gay marsh harrier.'

Thea nodded. 'And what did you have to do?'

'Umm... just....' And then Elaine remembered. 'Just wear the clothes and think of the naughtiest thing I had ever done.'

'The naughtiest thing you've ever done?'

Elaine smiled and nodded.

'And what was that?'

'You don't want to know,' Elaine said.

'Oh, but I do,' Thea told her. 'I want all the details.'

'You and Max both,' Elaine said.

'I told you that he would want you to get your kit off.'

Elaine laughed. 'And I've told you: he does fashion. Clothes. Oh, and he's going to get someone -- Lianne someone-or-other -- to coach me so that I can do catwalk jobs as well. Another chance to make a few bob, Max says.'

'You're going to be famous and rich.'

'We'll see,' Elaine said. 'We'll see.'

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Elaine finally got to attend a lecture. Unfortunately it was the second part of Monday's lecture. There were a few chunks of it that didn't really make much sense. Perhaps once she had read the notes that Thea had copied off for her. Perhaps.

* * *

When Elaine turned her phone back on, there was a message from Max. 'Suzy Trondo wants to meet you. Give me a call,' the message said.

'Wants to meet me?' Elaine said when she called him back. 'Is that good?'

'Fuck, yeah.'

'When?'

'This afternoon. Four o'clock.'

'OK. Where?'

'Their place. It's just off Kensington High Street.'

'This afternoon?'

'This afternoon. Come to the studio. We'll get a cab.'

'What should I wear?'

'Good question. Maybe you could wear the navy and blue Parkvale dress that we used for the test shots. That looked pretty good on you. Come to the studio about three. We'll get Jenny to give you a light make-over.'

'You make me sound like an old house,' Elaine said.

Max just laughed.

* * *

'What's she like?' Elaine asked, as the cab made its way along Bayswater Road.

'Suzy Trondo? I don't really know,' Max said. 'I've only met her once. And that was only for a couple of minutes. From what Micky says, I think she's a bit hands on. Likes to get involved.'

Elaine nodded. 'Oh well... it's her name on the label, isn't it?'

'I guess so,' Max said.

* * *

If Max's experience of Suzy Trondo was limited, Elaine's was pretty much non-existent. She had seen photographs. Society pages. Gossip columns. But that was about it.

In real life, Suzy looked a bit like the well turned-out woman-next-door. She was probably about forty. And she had one of those casual haircuts that you just knew cost a couple of hundred quid to achieve.

Elaine had expected someone whose name was synonymous with fashion to be dressed in the best. And perhaps she was. But Suzy Trondo's best was by no means flashy. Again, it was more like the well turned-out woman-next-door.

'Thank you for coming,' she said. 'I suppose that I could have come to you, but things are a bit busy at this time of the year.' And then she looked Elaine/Elle up and down before turning to Micky and nodding. 'Yes,' she said. 'Yes.' Then she turned to the tall woman who had followed her into the room. 'Mandy, can you get one of the Amalfi dresses for Elle, please. I think the shorter one.

'What do you do when you are not modelling?' Suzy asked Elaine.

'I'm studying urban geography,' Elaine said.

'Urban geography?' Suzy frowned slightly. 'I didn't even realise that there was such a thing. But I suppose there must be. If you're studying it.'

Elaine was just about to go into her potted descriptor when Mandy returned with the dress.

'Here, slip this on,' Suzy said, handing the dress on to Elaine and nodding in the direction of a screened off area.

Elaine changed into the dress. It felt nice. And it was a perfect fit.

When Elaine emerged from behind the screen, Suzy looked her up and down again. 'Yes,' she said. 'Although not with those shoes.' And she shook her head. 'Mandy... go and find Elle some more appropriate shoes, will you? The shoes you are wearing look like farm boots,' she told Elaine. 'Not that there is anything wrong with farm boots, but there is a time and a place for everything.' Suzy somehow managed to say all of this without any hint of malice.

'So... how does that dress feel?' Suzy asked.

'It feels very nice,' Elaine said. 'Yes.'

'Good. And it suits you too. Or perhaps you suit it. Either way.... My objective is to design clothes that help a woman feel good about the life she lives. Whatever that life may be. I want women to look great but also feel comfortable.' And she nodded again. 'Do you have an agent?' Suzy asked.

'That'll be me,' Max said, hastily.

Suzy seemed surprised. 'Oh? I thought that you were a photographer.'

'That too,' Max said.

'Right. Well... we should talk,' Suzy said. 'Mandy, why don't you see if you can rustle up a pot of coffee?'

* * *

'Well... you certainly made an impression,' Max said, as they made the cab-journey back to the studio.

'I didn't realise that you were my agent,' Elaine said. 'I didn't even realise that I had an agent. Or that I needed to have an agent.'

'No,' Max said. 'We really should have had a chat beforehand. I didn't realise that things would be moving along quite as quickly as they did. Still... we can talk about it when we get back to the studio. I have some champagne in the fridge.'

* * *

'I might have to drop out,' Elaine told Thea. 'Start again next semester.'

'But you've only just started.'

'The thing with Suzy Trondo will be pretty much full time. For the next six months or so, anyway.'

'You can't just give up.'

'I think I'm going to have to,' Elaine said. 'I may never get another chance. Not to be a fulltime model. And the money's very good.'

'Yeah?'

Elaine nodded. 'They want me to be exclusive for the next six months.'

'Exclusive? Ooh! Get you!'

* * *

The following morning, Max and Elaine held their first 'strategy meeting'. Well... second, if you include the previous night's gathering around the champagne bottle.

Max cleaned off the whiteboard that was attached to the wall on one side of the studio, and then he wrote up a new heading: OPERATION ELLE. And he underlined it. Twice.

'Right. We'll need to get someone to help with your diet,' he said.

'Diet? Oh? You think that I need to lose weight?'

'No, no. Not that kind of diet. But we need to make sure that you eat to stay healthy. We need to work on your stamina. Maintain that inner glow. It's hard work, modelling. I'll have word to Mary Watson.' Max wrote DIET on the board and, next to it, he wrote Mary Watson's name.

Elaine had never heard of Mary Watson.

'Now... fitness. What do you currently do to keep fit?' Max asked.

'I don't,' Elaine said. 'Not really. I used to play netball. But that was when I was at school.'

'We might need to get you a gym membership.'

'There's a gym at the uni,' Elaine said.

Max wasn't convinced. 'That might be a bit extreme,' he said. 'A bit competitive. We don't want you suddenly developing muscles. Maybe swimming. Do you like swimming?'

'Sort of,' Elaine said. 'Splashing about.'

Max nodded and added Swimming to the list. 'Now... let me see... what's next? Oh, yes. Publicity.'

And so they continued.

* * *

When Elaine told them at the university that she was going to have to drop out for a while, she suddenly discovered that there was a whole team whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to persuade her not to.

'Many students find the first few weeks a little confusing,' a mumsy woman told her. 'But don't fret. We'll find you a mentor. Someone to hold your hand. Walk you through the tricky bits.'

And then there was the grandfatherly Arthur who told her, almost confidentially, that the cost of living in London did sometimes come as a bit of surprise to many from beyond the home counties. 'But I'm sure that we can find you a little extra support,' he said. 'There are grants and things to help smooth the way. It's really just a matter of knowing where to look.'

Elaine was on the verge of telling Arthur that money was almost the least of her worries. But she didn't. Arthur appeared to be programmed to speak rather than to listen.

And then she had a visit from Douglas. Douglas arrived armed with (among other things) copies of situations vacant ads for suitably qualified urban geographers. 'The discipline is having its day,' he told Elaine. 'Even with a three-year degree and a bit of a tail wind you could expect to start on as much as fifty-five k a year. And with a four-year degree... well....' Again, she might have told Douglas that 55k was what Suzy Trondo was paying her for just six months' work. But, again, she didn't.

* * *

Max had been right that modelling was hard work. Behind the relaxed poses and easy smiles of the glossy magazines and websites, there were long hours and there was hard physical slog. But Elaine took to it all like the proverbial fish to water. And even before her initial contract with Suzy Trondo was up, a new and even more lucrative contract was awaiting Elaine's signature.

* * *

Elaine's success did not go unnoticed by other models. During a break in rehearsal for one catwalk show, Elaine was approached by a girl who introduced herself as Tilly. 'Well... Matilda-Jane Randall actually. But everyone calls me Tilly.'

Elaine smiled.

'I've noticed that you seem to get a lot of good gigs,' Tilly said. 'Do you mind me asking who your agency is?'

'Umm... Max Milsom,' Elaine said. 'Except Max is really a photographer. He just does a bit of repping on the side... I guess.'

'Do you think that he would take me on?' Tilly asked. 'My guys aren't very....' And she made a little pushing gesture with her hand.

'Not sure,' Elaine said. 'You could ask him.'

Tilly did ask. And Max did say yes. Shelly Shaw also asked. And Max said yes to her too. And then Max hired his cousin, Christina, to look after the day-to-day management of his growing 'stable' of models. Christina was a qualified accountant. It made sense.