Read Online A Crime of Fashion by Carina Axelsson - Free Book Online Page A

a…”
    I waited for him to finish his thought, but he didn’t. His lips were firmly shut.
    â€œA what?” I asked.
    â€œNo, I’m sorry, ma chérie , I won’t say it. It’s only an old rumour – and, anyway, this isn’t the moment for such a dark matter,” he continued. “Right now we must concentrate on getting you ready for Chanel.”
    Then he asked me to tilt my head back into the wash basin and began washing the colour-gloss out with the most amazing-smelling lemon-lavender shampoo (from his own brand). I shut my eyes and let all kinds of questions float through my mind: What was he talking about? What old rumour? And why was it such a secret? Somebody else must know. Who?
    â€œ Voilà! ” announced Victor, waking me from my reverie as he stepped in front of me. “Now we cut and dry your hair, then we must start make-up… Hmmm…although, first we must tackle those eyebrows of yours,” he said holding my chin in his hand and turning my face this way and that. Then he held out his hand like a surgeon at the operating table, and his assistant Maxi handed him a pair of tweezers.
    â€œOuch! Hey, that hurts!”
    â€œ Ma chérie , stop complaining. This thick monobrow isn’t doing you any favours – unless you like caterpillars. Today an eyebrow should be thick but tamed. Ah…like this!” he proclaimed finally, handing me a mirror. But I hardly had a chance to look before Victor began to apply the make-up and Chrystelle started trimming my hair.
    I couldn’t wait to tell Jenny how little was painted on me. “As a model, there is no point in wearing much make-up – if any,” explained Victor. “Remember, the photographers, editors, and clients you will be meeting are all experts in beauty. They will be looking at your profile, bone structure, skin condition, teeth and smile – not your make-up. Hair is important too, of course.”
    He was dabbing everything on by hand in light feathery movements. Apparently I didn’t need concealer or foundation. Instead, a light dusting of loose powder was brushed onto my face with a large, thick, pillow-soft brush. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply as the sable hairs flickered gently over my skin. Next, Victor dabbed a bit of Nars blush over my cheekbones. “The creamy texture of this blush looks soooo natural,” he cooed.
    Suddenly a gust of spring wind burst through the opened door, blowing the sound of familiar voices over the top of the privacy screen.
    â€œJust wait till you see what we’ve picked up for you!” It was Ellie. She and Aunt V had returned from their shopping trip. “You’re going to look amazing,” she gushed.
    â€œI have to admit,” Aunt V added, “we were lucky. Now let’s try some of the stuff on. I think we should start with the Karl Lagerfeld jeans and the H&M jacket and top.”
    But before my aunt and Ellie had any hope of getting into our screened-off corner, Victor took the situation in hand: “I’ll take the clothes,” he said as he sprang out to stop them from looking. “No one is to see my latest creation until I say she is ready!”
    He returned with what seemed like half of the Paris shop windows in bags. Bags from Chloé, A.P.C., H&M, and Isabel Marant left barely enough space for us behind the screen.
    â€œThis is just like Christmas!” Victor said excitedly as he looked through the bags, pulling out a jacket and a pair of trousers.
    I was just unpacking a navy pea coat when I realized Victor was trying to undress me!
    â€œHey, what are you doing?” I asked as he tried to pull my trousers down.
    â€œ Ma chérie , we must get you dressed and out of here. You are expected at Chanel in twenty minutes.”
    â€œThat may be, but I can undress myself, thank you!”
    â€œFrom now on you are a model. And models, while on the job rarely dress