Chapter 31
31
Belle by Bella Marie launches on the first day of spring. It’s an instant hit.
I’m not surprised. For the past few weeks, buzz about the brand has reached a crescendo. Keeping the fashion show low-key created mystique and encouraged speculation, which was especially effective since most influencers force their brands in everyone’s faces. Her strategy convinced audiences she didn’t want to sell the products, but that the brand was truly a project of love, of art.
The only press release she did was an interview for Vogue —a double spread of her in her brand’s figure-hugging lilac dress, which was borderline angelic. In it, she spilled key details about the brand: everything is ethically sourced, female-run, climate-friendly, plastic-free, organic, sustainable, made with net-zero carbon emissions, and is inclusive of every body size: XXXS to XXXXL. Ten percent of all profits will go to endometriosis research.
Once the gates open to the public, everyone clamors, desperate for a peek inside the prestigious club led by the internet’s favorite it-girl. Followers are so desperate to buy and support Bella Marie, the website crashes an hour after launch, which only adds to the hype.
Her clothes aren’t cheap: $100 for a heavyweight cotton T-shirt made in Italy; $780 for a Belgian wool sweater. Don’t even get me started about the dresses made of hand-spun silk.
Before I was Chloe, I could only dream of slipping on these clothes. Now I have the entire collection, since I’m one of the select influencers with early access.
I take pictures for my Instagram feed and make a series of short-form videos unboxing and styling different outfits, tagging the brand and Bella Marie herself.
In a swell of gratitude and admiration, I end up scrolling on Bella Marie’s account. Her content is so picturesque, I don’t realize I’ve scrolled all the way back to December. A certain post catches my attention. The photo is of a sunset, strips of pink and orange sky, dark blue sea. The caption: You’ll think you’re enjoying calm seas, slow waves, open shore, but really, it’s the world pulling back, preparing for a tsunami. I’ve recently been confronted with a tsunami of my own. But it’s important to take it in stride, to be grateful and to look forward. Any adversity thrown your way is simply the world’s method of guiding you in the right direction. Comments are restricted.
I wonder what happened.
I get a notification that the official Belle by Bella Marie account has reposted my TikTok try-on. Within a few minutes, I gain a few hundred followers. I open the clothing site and find that every single piece is now sold out or on preorder.
I’m so inspired by the success of her launch that I daydream of starting my own brand. The Asian skincare market is hot right now. I’ve even seen some Western brands cosplaying as Asian through disingenuous marketing, tricking consumers into thinking they’re buying products from Korea or Japan. If I play my cards right, I might be able to exploit this growing obsession with Asia.
I message Bella Marie about how she got started with her brand, hoping for some sage advice. She doesn’t reply. I guess that’s a given. She must be busy with the launch.
After some research and reaching out to Maya, the beauty guru Belladonna who recently launched her makeup line, One Drop, I’m connected with a company that has helped several influencers start successful projects. I send them a query of my ideas, my dreams, going into detail about what I want to make: green tea serums, face masks marketed to look like spring roll paper, cherry blossom lip balms. The ideas flow out of me. Anything is feasible now that I’m Chloe.
They reply after a day, and we set up a meeting a week later, during which I hear nothing but Yes! But then they get into the costs, the investments. My eyes widen at the numbers casually thrown my way. I didn’t know starting a company was so expensive. I’m hopeful it’s still possible.
I consult my accountant.
“Sure, you should have enough funds,” he says.
“Seriously? Oh my god, I have so many ideas—”
“You’ve been diverting twenty grand a month to your savings, so in a few months you should have the necessary capital.”
My heart drops. That was the money I’d put aside for my aunt. “I can’t use that money. Aside from that, I still have enough… right?”
There’s a moment of silence. “It will be tough.” From his tone, I can tell it’s closer to impossible . “You could always look into external investors.”
“I’ll think about it.” I hang up.
The reminder of my aunt drains me. Why is she always there to knock me down?
As if on cue, she sends me a text: I’m going to the bank next week. Then she attaches a fifteen-second clip of me admitting to impersonating Chloe.
I scrub the chat history, throw my phone across the room, shattering a vase, and scream. She’s a daunting reminder of my past life, the only thing that’s holding me back from flourishing, from truly achieving my dreams.
I wish she would leave me alone. I wish I could cut her off somehow.
But I can’t. She has me on a leash.
I email the company to cancel our next meeting.
The next morning, I clean up the broken vase, head to the bank, and send my aunt her monthly installment.