costumes- timothee chalamet

Chapter One

The shrill, incessant beeping of my alarm clock is what jolts me rather violently from my sleep once again. I rub my eyes and squint through the light coming in my open trailer window. The distant chorus of other alarms going off in the other trailers greets me as I reluctantly sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I walk the three steps it takes to get to my miniature kitchen and fill my teapot with water to boil for my morning cup of tea.

As I wait, I look out the window on the door of my trailer. The little village looks quaint in the icy November morning. There is a light sheet of snow coating the ground: perfect conditions for shooting today. I have lived in the trailer village in Harvard, Massachusetts for about a week now, working as a costume assistant on the set of Greta Gerwig's new adaptation of Little Women. While this hasn't been my first film to work on, it has definitely been my favorite, and we haven't even been on location for a long time. Everyone here is full of vibrant energy, from Greta to the leading actors, like Saoirse and Emma, and my own boss, Jacqueline Durran. I smile knowing how lucky I am to be given this opportunity.

My teapot's screaming brings me back to the task before me. I pour the hot water into my thermos and add my bag of peppermint tea. It's a peppermint kind of day. While the tea steeps, I brush my teeth, run a hand quickly through my short brown hair, and unearth a cozy, oversized green sweater from the heap of laundry I stuffed in a corner of the trailer. I lace up my Docs, grab my precious thermos of tea, and swipe my tote bag from the kitchen counter before hurtling out the door into the cold Massachusetts morning. The trailer door bangs behind me, earning me a glare from my next door neighbor who was leaving at the same time, a grumpy old lady who no one has the heart to fire from the hair department.

I take gulping sips of my tea as I make my way across the frozen ground to the larger trailers and tents set up for production crew and designers. In the distance stands the famous March house. I enter the costume trailer and set down my bag, heading towards the back to find Jacqueline for instructions.

"Morning!" I say as I enter Jacqueline's makeshift office. She turns in her chair (it's one of the fun swivelly kinds) and smiles when she sees me.

"Oh, perfect! Jessica from hair and makeup said she needed to see the costumes for today to match accessories. I believe it's already laid out, but would double check it for me? We're shooting some scenes in the Lawrence house today. I think it's all in the tents."

"Of course," I reply and make my way out to the costume tents, to fetch the wardrobe for today.

I draw my finger down the schedule and find today's scenes and the corresponding costumes on a separate list. I have a little inward gasp when I see that today is Timothee Chalamet's first day on set. I'm not a super dedicated fan, but my best friend Lola is a total fangirl. She has watched every single movie he was in, from Interstellar to Call Me By Your Name, and likes to go into detail about her sex dreams with him. She nearly passed away when I told her I was working on Little Women. Every day I have been here, she has called me to remind me that she must live vicariously through me and therefore, I must find a way to fuck Timothee Chalamet.

Thoughts of Lola and her obsessions follow me as I make my way to the hair and makeup tent, with hangers of today's ensembles weighing down my arms. Entering the tent, I walk over to the clothing racks to set down my baggage, and notice an unfamiliar head of brown curls sitting in the makeup chair about three feet from me.

No fucking way.

Hanging up the costumes, I try to subtly peek at the figure near me to confirm that it is indeed The Timothee Chalamet. There's a pair of beat-up white high top converse, with what appear to be bright blue Cookie Monster socks peeking over the top. It's paired with black sweatpants and a white sweatshirt. As I slowly move away from the clothing rack, I draw my eyes up to the face, anticipating the chiseled features of the Greek god that Lola swoons over, and make direct eye contact in the mirror. Shit. I've been caught staring.

He gives me a small smile and waves, "Are you in makeup too? I just met Jessica a couple minutes ago, but she left to get something," he asks.

Startled, I shake my head. "No, I'm in costumes. Just bringing over today's haul."

"Oh nice," he says. "I'm Timothee, by the way." He extends his hand for a shake.

"I'm Maya, " I reply and shake his hand awkwardly. In the most not creepy way, his hands were so soft. "My friend Lola back home would be losing her mind right now, she's such a big fan."

He flashes a big smile. "Lola, Lola, I like her already. You should call her sometime when I'm around and I'll say hi. I'd love to meet her. Where's 'back home' for you?"

"New York," I say, "I went to the Fashion Institute for two years and dropped out to start a career in costuming, but I stayed in the city. I love it."

"No fucking way," he exclaims, "I've lived in New York all my life! A kindred city spirit. I don't think many people love it the way we do. I'll have to visit you when we're both back in the city."

Taken aback by his immediate warmth and friendliness, I stutter, "Yeah, of course, totally."

I'm saved from further embarrassment by the makeup artist coming back with a handful of hair products and going back to work on Timothee. I start to walk out of the tent, and hear Timothee yell, "Bye for now! It was nice to meet you, Maya!" I turn around and catch his eye once again in the mirror.

He really does have such beautiful eyes.

"Bye, Timothee! See you later," I shout and give him a wave as I walk back out into the chilly morning.