styled ・Harry Styles

03.

4:15 am.

It's 4:15 am and I'm making a portfolio for a job I'm not applying for.

4:15 am and all I can hear is him saying my name.

4:15 am and I'm recklessly digging through my old lookbooks in search of outfits that now seem like they were made for him.

4:15 am and– Ouch.

4:15 am and I've given myself a paper cut.

I jump up from my hunched-over position at the table and run to my bathroom in search of a band-aid. I quickly locate one, throw it over the paper cut, and get back to work. I make sure to be as quiet as possible so I don't disturb Mel, who is sleeping like I should be right now.

Ever since my interest in fashion began, which was around age 16, I've randomly woken up in the middle of the night to breakthrough ideas when I seem to need them most. I've always taken this as a sign that I chose the right path, that some intrinsic part of my DNA was made for fashion. As I return to the prints and various looks sprawled across the room, I cannot stop myself from smiling. I can see exactly how the patterns would look against Harry's skin, which colors would make his eyes pop, and I pray that our brief meeting on the plane has given me a good enough idea about what he would feel good in.

I'll admit, I threw in a few safe options (you know, the infamous Gucci printed suits that he seems to love, but one's that I've styled), but I really wanted to push myself to think outside of the box for Harry. The one thing that struck me about meeting him, was how different he was than any other celebrity I've met. From the get go, Harry seemed truly genuine– somehow very self-aware of his fame yet completely unphased by it. He talked to me the way I'd expect any other kind stranger to talk to me on a plane, and I'm still taken aback by how natural conversation felt with him. This energy that I picked up on caused me to focus in on softer silhouettes, while still displaying some of his most defining features (yes, I am talking about the tattoos).

At about 5:45am, I find myself content with the portfolio I created. I start compiling everything in a digital folder to email over to his team, when I hear Mel's footsteps approaching.

"What on earth are you doing awa–" I start.

"I fucking knew you'd do it." Mel says in a tired voice, and walks right back to their room.

If Mel were any other person, I'd be extremely weirded out by that interaction, but ever since I met Mel, they have been so incredibly in tune with me that their sixth-sense doesn't even phase me anymore. Instead, I just smile at Mel's "blessing" and get back to work. Once the portfolio is all ready to send, along with my resume, CV, and cover letter, I take a shaky breath and question one last time if this is really something I want to do or not.

I find myself starting to make a mental pros and cons list for the hundreth time in my head when something possesses me to just hit send. It takes me a few seconds to process what I just did, how the email went from drafts to sent mail. I close my laptop and literally jump to my feet. For a moment, time feels frozen.

I'm standing in the middle of the living room, afraid to move because I haven't yet decided if I want the reality of what I just did to sink in.

Did I just apply for a job? A job in which I would be working for Harry? Styles?? Apply for a job that I swore I woudln't apply for?

I truly am not sure how long I stay standing there for, but once it feels right, I make my way back to my bedroom. Snuggling under the covers, I realize that I'm smiling to myself. It's not like me to be so rash, to go out on a limb like that, and I'm proud of myself. After I come down from the adrenaline rush that was the last two hours, I completely crash, grateful that my first meeting today isn't until 1pm.