Chapter Seven #2
Philippa peered out of the window. ‘I’m sure the chickens will be your natural alarm clock.
’ Her eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘They live at the back of the annexe. We never run out of eggs. Please don’t be tempted to feed them, the gardener will take care of that.
That’s about everything. I’ll leave you to get yourself sorted, lunch will be available in the kitchen from one p.m. – it’s in the basement beneath the lounge – and see you at the two o’clock meeting. ’
I’d effectively been handed the keys to a gilded life.
That afternoon, we all gathered in the drawing room of the main house.
There was a flurry of comments about how beautiful our surroundings were, as we each took in the generous proportions of the room and marvelled at the embroidered lampshades atop polished side tables and traditional parquet flooring with soft rugs layered on top.
The atmosphere was full of excitement, with everyone talking over one another.
All of us eager to please, to be heard, to feel valued by the superstar who had chosen us to be here.
As I looked around me, I felt an uncomfortable stab of imposter syndrome; that there must have been some mistake in Mandy’s hiring of me – perhaps she had got the impression I was better than I really was?
I focused on my breath to ground myself.
You’ve got this, Amber Green. You can do it.
Wearing a loose-fitting cream linen shirt, cream track pants which looked like pure cashmere and her feet encased in cream Uggs, Mandy took control of the proceedings.
‘To break the ice, I’d like to invite you all to take part in a little group ceremony,’ she said.
‘To commit to each other, so we set ourselves up for success as a group. Whilst we live in this house together, we are a family.’ I looked around the room at my new ‘family’, and noticed that Jimi was now wearing the Prada baseball cap which had been on the bust in the hallway.
‘We’ll do our ceremony first, and then Jose will do some strength work. ’
Jimi gave a little cough, thinking strength work was surely the personal trainer’s area.
‘Oh,’ said Mandy with a chuckle, ‘don’t worry, Jimi – no weights needed, we’re talking personality strengths. It’s a fun way to get to know each other.’
Jimi was sitting on the floor, close to the fire, his legs were outstretched and when he leant back on his propped hands the bicep muscles twitched on his brown arms. It was hard not to acknowledge how good-looking he was every time he appeared.
I didn’t turn my head, but I was always aware of him in my peripheral vision. When he lifted his baseball cap to scratch his curly hair beneath it, when he twisted the lid off a bottle of water and brought it to his lips, when he laughed at something someone said.
Philippa spoke from the corner of the room closest to the door. I hadn’t immediately noticed her join us. ‘This “ceremony”,’ she uttered, using her fingers to illustrate the inverted commas – she looked antsy, as though she would rather be anywhere but here – ‘is that an invitation or—’
Jose interrupted her. ‘It’s not an invite you can turn down, if that’s what you mean, it’s mandatory for Mandy’s team, and we consider you a part of it, Philippa.’
That told her. I got the impression Philippa was the kind of person who was comfortable with minimal conversation. The polar opposite of Mandy, who, by nature, was a fan of her own voice.
‘It’s painless,’ Mandy added abruptly. ‘We’ll go around the room, and everyone has to say what they expect from the others.
We will all say “I will” afterwards, and that’s our binding contract to one another.
It’s a really beautiful thing.’ At which point she and Jose exchanged an affectionate smile.
Jose added, ‘Mandy and I expect commitment from everyone involved in our world. Would you like to go first, Philippa?’
Philippa pursed her lips. It was as though she’d been rudely ejected from her comfort zone with no way back. I’d bet internally she was cursing this LA-type who had invaded her British historic home with her crazy celebrity ceremonies.
‘Right-o,’ Philippa spoke reluctantly. ‘I expect everyone to keep their quarters clean and tidy. And please try to keep noise to a minimum after ten p.m. That’s it.’
‘Fantastic!’ Mandy replied warmly, before staring right into Philippa’s steely, pale blue eyes, and stating firmly, ‘I will.’
After a moment of silence, Blair then repeated ‘I will’, and one by one, we followed suit.
‘Thank you, Philippa. Now, Coco?’
‘I would like to request that we collectively agree to make healthy choices in this house, to remove temptation and commit to following my menus, which I will send around at the start of each week. Please let me know privately if you have any allergies, intolerances, or anything else I need to be aware of that might affect your ability to partake in my healthy-eating regimen. I can assure you it will be well-balanced and satisfying.’
‘Easier said than done, when the nutritionist’s name makes you think of chocolate!’ guffawed Jimi. This time I turned to look at him, stifling a grin myself.
‘Good point, well made,’ Coco responded quickly, suggesting she had dealt with this comment before.
‘Actually, cocoa itself isn’t the bad guy.
Unprocessed cocoa is rich in polyphenols, which have significant health benefits, including an ability to reduce inflammation and improve cholesterol levels.
It can also be helpful for blood sugar and weight control.
It’s the processed stuff you have to watch, so, in my recipes, I always use a non-alkalised cocoa powder – I make a mean vegan chocolate mousse as it happens.
And I do make an allowance for chocolate at times – it will be dark and a minimum seventy per cent cocoa.
As with everything, it’s all about balance and moderation.
Does that answer your question?’ Jimi gave her a thumbs-up and a wry smile.
Mandy looked impressed as Coco continued, ‘I want you all to feel amazing from the inside-out, so whether or not you like my suggestions, I will keep your nutritional needs in check. So, can we all contract to eating healthily and removing temptation?’
‘I will,’ said Mandy and we all chorused after her. ‘I will.’
Jimi went next, asking for our commitment to partaking in social media shoots with enthusiasm as required, and imbedding a solid fitness routine as part of our daily life, followed by some motivational words on enjoying exercise because it takes very little willpower to do something you enjoy.
Then it was my turn. I felt nervous as all eyes fell on me expectantly.
‘Your clothes tell your story,’ I began, ‘they represent a powerful way to let the world know who you are and what you have to contribute. Fashion helps you to grow, to fall in love, to get through challenging times and, most importantly, find joy.’ I paused, scanning the room to take in their reactions.
Philippa looked confused, but, if I wasn’t mistaken, Blair’s eyes had moistened, and Mandy looked as if she was concentrating on what I was saying.
‘All I ask for,’ I continued, ‘is your complete authenticity in working with me as the stylist. Fabulous clothes only do half the job you see – it’s what’s underneath that enables you to own them. ’
This was directed at Mandy who, as far as I was aware, was my only client within the house.
‘But what about glamour and grabbing attention – I thought that was the point of fashion?’ asked Mandy.
I nodded gravely. ‘That’s valid,’ I said, buying myself a small window to think.
‘Fashion can be about fantasy, of course, but you and I need to work closely to decide how much of yourself you are ready to reveal. I don’t mean literally, of course, I mean on a deeper level.
The tide has turned, audiences connect when someone is truly themselves.
Fashion is not just about wearing an amazing dress – it’s about making the dress come alive because you are embodying it.
So, the question is, are you ready to be the real you, Mandy? ’
‘Oh, I’m real, all right. Well, except for my boobs and filler, all the rest is a hundred per cent Mandy y’all,’ she drawled. Sometimes she seemed to play up her southern Florida accent. ‘I’m ready!’ she squealed. ‘And we can filter the shit out of anything afterwards, anyway!’
Philippa flashed me a crooked smile.
Mandy’s last comment frustrated me – it also belittled my skills as a stylist. She seemed to read my mind. ‘You okay, doll?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not a fan of filters or manipulation,’ I said, surprising myself by how forthright I was.
‘I mean, there’s influencing, and then there’s being a bad influence.
For what it’s worth, I don’t think you need any manipulation.
You should be proud of the real you. And I think you have so much more to give, Mandy. ’
Jimi made a slow clapping sound.
‘Amber’s nailed it,’ he said, ‘that’s what the Brits want, Mands. Truth, authenticity, and realness all the way.’ He put his hand on his heart as if swearing an allegiance to my proposal.
Is he ridiculing me or being supportive?
‘So can we all commit to supporting Mandy in this process?’ I asked.
‘I will,’ they each replied. All except for Mandy.
‘Jury’s out on this one,’ she muttered, perhaps regretting her own ceremony. ‘I thought I’d hired a stylist, not a therapist.’
I bowed my head. Me and my big mouth. Maybe I should have kept quiet.