章 119: Customized suit
The black Audi sedan came to a slow stop. The driver quickly exited and politely opened the door. Renly stepped out and looked around at the street scene. Red brick walls, tall oak trees, lush ivy—there was a tranquil air here, devoid of Manhattan's hustle and bustle. The street was lined with inconspicuous black, silver, and gray vehicles, but a true connoisseur could tell that these were custom-made cars, distinct from the ordinary models on the market.
With just a glance, Renly knew he was in the Upper East Side.
When people mentioned New York's shopping centers, Fifth Avenue was undoubtedly the renowned luxury destination. Even British aristocrats were willing to fly here during discount seasons to snag deals. However, this was merely the result of luxury brands and Fifth Avenue's advertising efforts.
Undeniably, Fifth Avenue gathered the world's top luxury brands, and many celebrities enjoyed shopping here. But the truly high-end private boutiques were not to be found on Fifth Avenue. Instead, they were hidden in alleyways off Greenwich Village, treasures concealed away. These places were inaccessible to the average person. Special connections, professional business cards, or referrals from insiders were the keys needed to access them—providing high-end services away from the public eye.
Although Renly hadn't visited these high-end private custom shops since arriving in New York, due to the lack of occasions and economic constraints, it didn't mean he was clueless. Information about those top private tailors was passed down by word of mouth in high society. However, Renly wasn't aware that there was one right here in the Upper East Side.
Setting up shop in the Upper East Side was quite high-profile according to normal standards. It was clear they were targeting the upper echelons of this area's society. They were determined to make sure people knew this was a prestigious, tasteful, and reputable private custom shop. For haughty and reserved top tailors, or perhaps for reserved and dignified Britons, this approach was too commercial, too fame-oriented, and too direct.
Even if it was hidden within a private courtyard.
"This time is a bit rushed, and there's not much time for more arrangements. But this designer has been on the rise in the past two years and is trustworthy," Andy briefly explained, his admiration evident in his concise words. Andy looked Renly up and down. Today, he was in a simple outfit of a T-shirt and jeans. "Let's get you suited up!"
Behind a curtain of ivy, one could faintly see an ornate iron gate. Next to it was a bronze doorbell button, clearly imitating the design of upscale British residences. After pressing the doorbell, a voice came through the intercom at the entrance, "May I ask who it is?" "Andy Rogers."
The gate promptly opened, revealing a heavy wooden door beyond. Once inside, a spacious and bright area came into view. In the center was a large open space. On the left near the floor-to-ceiling windows was a deep brown sofa. Directly opposite, across the open space, stood a full-length dressing mirror. Next to it was a changing area, currently unveiled with white curtains, revealing a vanity table stocked with pins, tape measures, scissors, and similar tools.
The space was designed with warm tones and a generous layout, exuding a strong modern ambiance that brightened the mood. However, Renly didn't like it. This design was not consistent with the house's style; it was quite evident that the house had a Victorian vintage style, as seen from the exterior walls and the entrance. But the interior was modern?
A typical American choice.
"Mr. Rogers, Mr. Hall," a tall, slim woman walked up, her long golden hair flowing down her shoulders. She wore a white silk blouse paired with a high-waisted black pencil skirt, and her feet were adorned with pointed-toe high heels in a shade of royal blue. Her attire was both neat and charming, showcasing her shapely figure. Her warm smile wasn't overly flattering, maintaining a friendly yet genuine demeanor.
She was the typical American business model—blond, attractive, yet not overtly revealing. This attire was meant to put customers in a good mood. For upscale British private tailoring, receptionists would never dress like this. In most cases, they would be men or older individuals. Even if they used young women, they would present themselves in formal wear.
With just a brief encounter, Renly already had a grasp of this shop. Being someone who grew up receiving aristocratic education, he understood these details quite well. Turning his head, he saw Andy's face adorned with a faint smile, a relaxed expression that indicated he was quite satisfied.
"Melvin is upstairs on an important call, and he'll be down shortly. Please wait a moment," the blonde woman smiled and asked, "Coffee or tea?"
"Hot milk, no sugar, and then two small biscuits," Renly stood by politely. Though he had plenty of internal criticisms, he had gradually adapted to the American way of doing things. He was already accustomed to this commercial style coupled with refined customs. He believed Andy chose this place because of its reputation.
The blonde woman was somewhat surprised, clearly not expecting Renly's unconventional request. If she wasn't mistaken, the visitor today was merely an unknown figure. This request sounded like something someone who lacked exposure would make—milk? What kind of request was that? It sounded like something a bumpkin from New Jersey would ask for. But the demeanor of the person before her, standing there casually with hands relaxed at his sides, exuding an innate sense of ease and elegance, instead left her a bit at a loss.
"Pretending quite well."
The woman's lips twitched slightly, a trace of disdain flickering in her eyes. She concealed it well, not letting her emotions leak out. "No problem." She then turned to Andy. "Coffee, please bring the sugar container as well." The woman nodded in understanding. "Well then, please wait."
On their way to the second floor, the woman spotted Melvin Blades, who was reading a newspaper with his legs crossed. Evidently, Melvin wasn't on an important call, and there wasn't anything significant going on.
Stylists in Hollywood held a unique position. They weren't designers, nor were they skilled tailors. They had their own special insights into fashion and styling, but their professional abilities were hard to measure. Their job was quite distinct; they were responsible for creating looks for celebrities. Not everyone had a fashion sense. Many celebrities might privately prefer plain tank tops, plaid boxers, and flip-flops—just ordinary people. Moreover, the fashion taste in the American Midwest was often subject to ridicule. This was when a stylist came into play.
In any public appearance, a celebrity's appearance was managed by a stylist. From hairstyle to clothing selection, makeup to jewelry pairing, they provided comprehensive advice, guiding the star under the spotlight, capturing the world's attention. This wasn't limited to red carpets or press conferences—it extended to everyday casual wear as well.
The profession of a stylist had gradually transitioned from behind-the-scenes to the forefront during the rise of street photography. Whenever a celebrity stepped onto the streets or even appeared at the airport, their clothing choices garnered more attention. This also meant that celebrities' wardrobes underwent comprehensive scrutiny from the public, something that was unimaginable two decades ago. This could be said to be a product of the internet era.
Stylists would completely refresh a celebrity's wardrobe about three to four times a year. The star would then choose their outfits before going out, take photos to show the stylist, and only after confirmation would they step out.
For instance, the most renowned examples in the entertainment industry were Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez.
In Taylor's early career, she maintained a princess-like style—sweet and charming, yet lacking distinctiveness. After changing stylists, she embraced a more urban chic style, both crisp and not overly gentle. Her popularity in street photography soared, and she was even hailed as a fashion icon. Selena followed a similar trajectory. As a Disney child star, her early career was characterized by sweet, lively, youthful styles. In her adult years, she faced a transformation bottleneck and enlisted a professional stylist. She adopted an urban mature style that exuded confidence and sophistication, without being overly sensual. Her career skyrocketed, solidifying her position as the queen of internet street fashion.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that a top-notch stylist could transform a celebrity's appearance entirely, to the point where it rivaled even plastic surgery. Conversely, a mediocre stylist could cause a celebrity's fall from grace, fading into obscurity seemingly overnight.
However, fashion trends changed year by year and even day by day. Fashion styles also had to be tailored to fit each person's unique characteristics and style. So, there wasn't an accurate benchmark to measure a stylist's ability. The only judging criterion was: Whose style did they create? How skilled were they? What was the effect?
As a result, celebrities needed to choose their stylists with caution, and the same applied in reverse.
Melvin was thirty-five years old this year. He used to be a fashion buyer, traveling between the four major fashion weeks and various fashion circles. However, the competition in the buying market was too fierce. Two years ago, he transitioned into a stylist role. He had taken on styling assignments for individuals like Emma Roberts and Jesse Eisenberg. Although he achieved some success, his most famous case was selecting a red carpet gown for Anne Hathaway at the 81st Academy Awards, which garnered much acclaim. After that, his career began to take off.
Now, Melvin had long-term collaboration agreements with multiple actors like Megan Fox, Paul Rudd, and Vanessa Hudgens. He had managed to establish a foothold in the stylist industry. Yet, he was still lacking that final push, missing an opportunity to capture public attention and demonstrate his true skills. He truly yearned to ascend to the ranks of top-tier stylists.
Hence, he searched, he waited, he observed, he sought. Accepting Andy's request to style an unknown newcomer was, on one hand, due to the face of the Emmy Awards and, on the other hand, an attempt to discover hidden potential. Otherwise, he wouldn't be willing to take on such a task at this point.
Melvin put down the newspaper, looked at the blonde woman, and saw her shaking her head disappointedly. "Looks like just an unpromising country bumpkin."
クリエイターの想い 
Shallowman
Shallowman And he couldn't be more wrong. Well, he is not a reader who is aware of Mc's plot armor or lack of it thereof. But he still has to prepare himself for the oncoming faceslap, and once more for another faceslap that will haunt him in the future.
The song of the chupster is "Hack The System - Coming Back"
Take the faceslap preludiating chupster along with the pumpfool sonk, you Suckerbergs!
週次パワーステータス
-- 推薦
ランキング 
-- 推薦
チケット