every summer with Gigi because there were always acting intensives and shows I wanted to do. Our long summers were condensed to holidays, where we would travel to see Gigi. It was never the other way around. Now she’s decided to finally leave at the worst time possible.
And what is it about Candice’s gala that’s so appealing to her? It’s all the way in Brooklyn. It’s hard to believe that Gigi would go that far when she doesn’t even walk around the corner to the grocery store.
I need space. I need to be alone. Completely.
Brooklyn does, indeed, put a lot of space between us.
I take a step back from her desk and scan the room, pausing at the entrance to her walk-in closet, where she stores her vintage dresses and all the outfit pieces she’s kept from movie sets.
Her closet is almost half the size of her bedroom, and when I step inside, I’m suddenly eleven again. It’s my birthday, and Gigi’s gift to me is a special photo shoot she’s set up with Candice Tevin. She’s helping me try on outfits.
“You should wear this, Evie Marie,” she says, handing me a brown leather high-waisted miniskirt. It’s the same skirt that Diane Tyler wears in Every Time We Meet.
I slip my skinny body into the skirt, and it falls down to my ankles.
Gigi laughs and pins the skirt so it stays in place. “You’ll get the hips for it in a few years.”
She lets me try on her designer stilettos, and I walk across the floor on wobbly legs. I stop and stand in front of the mirror and pose, pretending I’m on a red carpet. I smile serenely like I’ve seen Gigi do hundreds of times.
“Chin up,” she says, coming to stand behind me. “When you hold up your chin, it elongates your neck. Remember that, all right? It’s time to go.”
She leads me downstairs to her living room, where Candice is waiting. A white backdrop and lights are already set up. Chaka Khan’s “Sweet Thing” is playing on Gigi’s record player.
Candice smiles at me. “You ready?”
I nod, starting to feel a little nervous. Gigi gives me an encouraging push, and Candice instructs me to stand in the middle of the backdrop.
“Okay, let’s start with a few poses,” Candice says. “Do whatever you want.”
I stand there awkwardly, placing my hand on my hip like I’ve seen other girls my age do in magazines. It feels forced. Candice snaps a few photos and lowers her camera.
“Act a little more natural,” she says. “Have some fun with it.”
I shoot an anxious look at Gigi, and she saunters over to stand beside me. “Let’s take a few together—how’s that sound?”
“Okay,” I say, relieved.
She puts her arm around me and smiles confidently at the camera, and when she starts swaying her hips along to the music, I copy her. Suddenly, we’re dancing together and smiling at each other.
“Great!” Candice says. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”
After the song ends, Gigi wraps her arms around me and holds me close. She smells like Chanel No. 5.
“Happy birthday, Evie Marie,” she says.
I look up at my grandmother, who is so regal and wise and beautiful.
“I want to be just like you when I grow up, Gigi,” I say.
She’s silent for a long moment, and I can’t place her expression. Finally, she says, “You’ll be better than me, surely.”
“I’m heading out!” Milo shouts from the hallway.
I jump, coming back to reality. “Bye,” I call over my shoulder.
I wait until I hear him jog down the steps and shut the door before I walk deeper into Gigi’s closet. I find what I’m looking for all the way in the back. The brown leather high-waisted miniskirt and mustard-yellow turtleneck that Diane Tyler wore in Every Time We Meet. Part of me wants to try on the skirt now to see if it fits, but it doesn’t feel the same without Gigi here, and I can’t show her whether or not my hips actually grew into it.
But I do need to choose something to wear to the gala. Gigi never minded when I played dress-up in her clothes when I was younger, but I wonder how she’ll feel when she sees me tonight, wearing one of her dresses without permission.
I run my fingers over the fabric of a short gold lamé dress. I love it, but it’s definitely not right for tonight. Neither is the deep green strapless Alaïa. But I pause on a long black sleeveless silk Valentino gown