Chapter Sixteen

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Harry Styles

Halle and I are being fitted for outfits today. The awards are tomorrow and it's all a very exciting, nerve-racking process. Halle and I were told to visit Thea Porter's L.A. workshop as it was decided we'd become ambassadors of her art, wear her designs on tours and to events. It's a big deal, Thea Porter is a great artist so to be an ambassador really is special, especially for someone like Halle who has been in the industry for such little time.

One thing I have noticed since this deal is that Halle and I seem to be a pair. The label are really pushing this whole PR move and that's the reason for Thea sponsoring the both of us apparently. It was negotiated by the label before we were even told about it.

Halle brought her sister Ellen and her father along with her today, to the workshop where we're fitted for outfits, which is really sweet. They get along really well and it's so obvious how much her family means to her. He's also a great man. I've spoke to her dad a couple of times since he arrived and he's a very likable person, a lot like Halle.

My mum won't make it to L.A. for the awards, but she'll be watching on her television and I promised to call her the second it's finished. She wishes she could come and it really does fill her with so much guilt that she can't, but I don't mind. I'd have loved to see her but she will make the next award show, she just can't make this on due to work.

I forget that people work real jobs and don't just write shit music for a living.

"I like that, but maybe with red heels instead of black." One of the ladies at the warehouse said, looking at Halle and I as we both stood in the third outfit of the day.

"Red will clash, the black looks better." The older lady says in rebuttal, tucking a pen into the front pocket of her denim dungarees stained with paint as the pair stare at Halle. "I like this one, it's flattering."

The lady, Isabella I think her name was, wandered to Halle inspecting the dress much closer up. Halle looked nervous, but I suppose we all are. In the room, it's just Sam, Mick, Halles dad, Halle's sister, and the people who work here and are in charge of making the decisions on what we wear. It's a chatty environment, Halles dad gets on really well with Sam and Mick but the people that work here always ask for silence when they're noting down different things about different outfits.

"We'll need to take it in at the waist." Isabella says, taking out a pin from her pocket as she adjusts the waist of the dress Halle is wearing. "You like this one Halle? You're wearing it afterall."

"I think it's beautiful." Halle spoke back politely with a smile, causing the lady messing around with the back of her dress to smile proudly.

Someone started touching the suit I was wearing and putting pins in different places, saying they'd change certain things about it until four outfit changes later we finally decided on one look for the red carpet, and one look for the after party. The whole three hours was spent with people just putting their hands all over me and pinning different items of clothing in certain ways.

I'd have been happy to turn up in a pair of jeans and a shirt, but apparently that's not on. I also thought I had a stylist, but apparently he moved to New York and decided to start working on runway looks instead which is great. I'm glad he got his paycheck.

I suppose this experience was much worse for Halle, who had three outfits to find and absolutely no privacy to get changed at all. I turned my back whilst she changed, of course I did. It's not great that they didn't really give us anywhere to change, but apparently we'll never have to do this again as they have our measurements and they'll just send us clothes from now on.

The women at the workshop were French, but conveniently, only spoke french when they shared a glance that would make anybody feel self conscious. The more I rolled my eyes, the quicker they worked so I just made an effort to display how bored and fed up I was so it could be over.

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