Coco Chanel Saved My Life (25 page)

Sometimes life could be marvellous.

*

Days were passing by much faster than I wished: only five days left before my return to Milan and only one day before the fashion show.

My time in Paris was coming to an end, and I really didn't want to go back to Milan. I had recovered my ability to smile again. I felt comfortable with myself and people, and I was working far away from the horrible Valentina, that tiger!

In fact, I began to think of Paris as my ideal city.

True, I missed my friends Emma and Claudio, but I was sure that I would miss Elodie too, once I got back to Italy.

Since I'd received the last gift from my mystery man, I hadn't lost my positive attitude for a single minute. I was always feeling cheerful. I really liked this secret admirer, his elegant and gentle courtship. It made me feel like a special person.

As soon as I left the office, I ran to the salon for a blow-dry; I also had an appointment for a facial at a spa. Tomorrow I would be in one of the most exclusive and chic environments in the world, and couldn't show up looking shabby. I took the splendid Chanel sheath dress out of my closet. I was looking forward to wearing it.

I had asked Etienne for an afternoon off and he granted it without any questions. I was counting the minutes until the event, like a child eagerly waiting for the morning to open Christmas gifts.

That evening I called Emma. We hadn't talked much in the past week, so I hadn't updated her yet about my news and my crazy life.

“How are you, Emma?”

“Great! I have news!”

“What's going on?” I always was a little afraid when Emma said the word,
news
.

“Elena has come to live with me!”

Emma sharing her precious, sacred apartment with someone, this was sensational!

“Congratulations! I'm very happy for you both. Now you'll have to make some room in your closet for her…”

“In fact,” she interrupted me, “finding room for her piles of clothes has been a challenge. But we've overcome the hardest step – to find room for all of my shoes.”

“Great! Well done, Emma. I adore you!” I said with sincere enthusiasm.

She laughed, obviously happy. “And you? Are you ready to leave Paris?”

“Right now I don't want to think about it. In my mind I'm pretending that I will be here forever. Although believe me, I miss you and Claudio very much.”

“I can imagine how difficult that could be. I have a feeling that Paris is a city that steals your soul.”

I sighed. It was true.

“Any other news? she asked.

“Yes! My secret admirer reappeared with yet another gift. An invitation to…” a dramatic pause to build suspense, “the Chanel fashion show!”

“No way! Seriously? Are you kidding me? I mean, I can't believe this!” Emma was clapping her hands. “This has always been one of your greatest dreams…”

“And tomorrow this dream will come true, my dear friend!”

“You must be over the moon!”

“I know! I can't wait. Thank god I have something suitable to wear, otherwise instead of a dream this would be a nightmare!”

“Will you wear your Chanel dress?”

“Yes! God bless my mysterious admirer… whoever he may be.”

“Let's hope that he keeps coming through with his extraordinary gifts. Lucky girl!”

“Yes, I'm lucky. And see? I'm not spending any more of my days whining and repeating that I'm a loser.”

Luck comes when you are ready to accept it. This was an important truth.

“Finally! Otherwise I was ready to buy ear plugs not to have to listen to your complaints!”

“Ha, ha, Emma! But it's late. I should get to bed…”

“Ok, I'll let you rest. You don't want to get to the Chanel show with your usual dark circles…” She blew me a kiss.

“No, I would prefer to leave those at home! Good night sweetie.”

I turned off the webcam, but before going to bed, I applied a miraculous hydrating mask!

*

On the morning of the fashion show I brought warm croissants for everybody at the office. I wanted to share my happiness and celebrate.

At lunch time I went home to get ready. The show was at three, and actually I wanted to get there early enough to take some pictures of the location and the guests.

Just as I planned I wore my black Chanel dress, I added a pin with a white camellia and put on a small black hat with veil. I chose the two-tone – satin and beads – dressy heels, and for the special occasion, the 2.55 handbag that my aunt had given me. I was so glad I had brought it with me to Paris! Then I put on my faithful six strings of pearls, took my black coat, and literally showered myself with No 5. I was
so
Chanel that if Karl Lagerfeld, the
maison
artistic director, saw me, he would immediately hire me as his spokesperson!

I hailed a taxi and arrived in front of the prestigious location just in time. I showed my invitation at the entrance and they led me to a seat in the third row. The front row was filled with VIPs, who wore elegant clothes and had perfect hair. But for once I didn't feel out of place.

In a few minutes the show was going to begin and the lights were lowered. Someone took the seat next to me. A very good, somehow familiar, scent enveloped me. When I turned to look at the person who just sat down, I almost shouted with surprise!

“Etienne! What are you doing here?”

“Shh… I've come to see the show.”

“Sure, I understand… I mean… next to me?”

I couldn't believe the coincidence… was it possible that he…?

“Shh, Coco! The show is starting. Enjoy it. Have fun and dream.”

Have fun and dream
. These were the same words that my secret admirer wrote on the Paris guide book… Could it be? Was my blue-eyed boss my mystery man?

While I was trying to find something intelligent to say to recover from the shock, the music started and gorgeous models began to come down the catwalk. The dresses were fantastic! I was dazzled by the elegant lines, by the rich wool and perfection of suits, by the silk and chiffon, and by the evening dresses. It was hugely exciting. At times, when a sensational outfit appeared, an applause burst out and everybody in the audience seemed ecstatic.

It was an extraordinary event. I spent years adoring Coco Chanel, and at this moment I almost felt her spirit was there, with me.

At the end of the show and after lots more applause, the lights went back on, and I realized I had tears in my eyes.

“Did you like it, Coco?” Etienne said, gently brushing my cheek.

“I'm totally thrilled! I have no words to explain how much I loved it.” I was also trying to find the right words to thank him for this gift. “So… it was you?”

His eyes sparkled and he smiled at me. “Let's go take a walk. Do you want to?”

We walked for a few minutes in silence, then Etienne sat down on a bench and I did the same. A timid sun was shining over the city.

“Yes, it
was
me. You didn't get it?”

“No… I don't know what to say. I'm embarrassed, pleased, confused. I don't understand, Etienne. I don't understand what all this means. It scares me.”

“Are you sorry to find out? Are you disappointed?”

I looked him in the eyes. I wasn't sorry. I wasn't disappointed. On the contrary, I felt an unexpected and deep sense of happiness and fulfilment. As if, at this precise moment, all the scattered pieces of my life had found their place. As if a certain destiny had been fulfilled.

“Ever since the first time I saw you, when you stumbled and fell into my arms, I knew there was something. I could tell you were different from all the rest. Your eyes sad, but hungry. Your way of moving, your innocent gaze, and the honesty and freedom of your thinking… you are open – you let others still surprise you. You're a strange creature, Coco, and splendid.”

I was breathless. Nobody before had used these words to describe me, yet I felt there was some truth in it… those words that only waited to be spoken. Words that I, myself, had never found. He had read my soul.

“Every time I met you, you seemed so strong, and so fragile at the same time. I've observed you for long time, do you know? I know exactly the way you stir sugar in your coffee, your face when they assign you a project you don't like, your way of touching your hair when you feel embarrassed, the scent of your skin…”

He took my hand and I felt my heart exploding. I closed my eyes and he brushed his warm lips on mine. Then he kissed me. It was a long and passionate kiss. A kiss that was telling a story we were unable to tell.

Everything was so surreal. His confession, the kiss, this feeling that exploded without warning…

While he kept holding my hand, suddenly the figure of Juliette came to my mind: her bored expression when I saw her at the theatre, her love letter full of passion, and abruptly I took my hand away. I remembered now why I'd decided to resist this powerful attraction to him.

“I can't, Etienne. I'm sorry, I can't do it…” I said, trying to recover from that overwhelming emotion.

“Why? What's happening?”

“It's complicated, hard, and cruel.” My voice was shaking. “I don't want to be your next adventure. I don't want to be part of your collection of lovers. I don't need another man to share with another woman. People have to choose. And you have a fiancée.”

His face turned pale. Staring at me, he said, “I… It's not the way you think…”

I didn't allow him to continue.

“It's always the same old story. Every time there is another woman who can give something to my man that I can't give him. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of being the number two. I want to be the number one.”

I stood up and moved away from him. After a few moments he came up from behind and hugged me. We stayed like this for a little while, under the trees of that deserted boulevard. When I tried to free myself from his embrace, he whispered in my ear, “don't go away.”

I couldn't stay. I had to go.

I felt empty, again. Hurt, again.

I began to walk, without turning back. If I'd looked at his sad blue eyes, even only for a second, I wouldn't have found the strength to leave.

I still couldn't believe what had just happened to me: the Chanel show, Etienne's confession, the kiss. I needed some time to think, to understand. I didn't want to have an affair with a man who had a fiancée. I couldn't always be the second choice. I had to forget that day, the gifts, the smiles, and his words. Thank god I would be returning to Italy soon and the distance would help me to forget.

As I got undressed, I couldn't stop thinking of our intimate gazes, holding hands, his lips caressing mine, as if they were made for this moment. I wanted to obliterate those images from my mind, but every time I tried to think of something else, his imposing blue eyes would appear. I needed to clear my mind and breathe some fresh air, so I decided to go out for a walk. That afternoon I wanted to lose myself in the crowded streets of Paris.

Ten minutes later I found myself in a mall. It was full of kids and tourists, shopping or eating in fast food places. Strangely all that confusion made me feel better. It distracted me from my thoughts.

Before going home, I treated myself to a huge chocolate crepe that I devoured in a few bites. Here I was again, desperate, single and with a broken heart. Moreover, I was going to be leaving in a few days one of the most exciting cities in the world.

During the next few days, I tried to avoid Etienne. It wasn't very difficult, since – thank god – he had a lot of meetings outside the city. I wasn't sure I would have been able to resist him again, if he had embraced me like he had the day before. But I knew very well that if I had let myself give in to him, he would have destroyed me – as soon as he decided it was time to go back to his beautiful fiancée.

The morning of my last day at the French agency, my colleagues had organized a little farewell party for me. They brought cupcakes and champagne, and at lunch break we made a toast all together. They had invited Etienne too, but he didn't show up that day. What a relief… I would leave without even having to say goodbye to him.

After the toast, Elodie came up to me with a gift. I unwrapped the little pink package and opened a tiny box. There was a thin silver chain with a little pendant shaped like the Eiffel Tower.

“So, you'll bring a piece of Paris back with you!”

“Thank you! It's beautiful…”

“I'll miss you, Coco.”

“I'll miss you too.”

I hugged her tightly, trying to hold my tears back. I hate farewells.

Later in the afternoon I cleared up my desk and headed home. I had to finish packing. While going through the other departments to say goodbye to everybody, I passed in front of Etienne's office. The door was open and the room empty. I felt deeply sad. I'd had a beautiful dream, but now it was all over.

Once at home I closed my suitcases and decided to get something to eat at the kosher restaurant nearby. I sat at a small table, ordered a glass of red wine, and tried to enjoy my last night in Paris. In only twenty-four hours I would be back in my apartment in Milan, unpacking and eating cookies, trying to forget.

I spent the evening looking at the couples around me. They all seemed beautiful and in love. I couldn't help but imagine myself with Etienne, having dinner in a cozy bistro. He would have ordered Bordeaux wine, looking in my eyes, and I would have caressed his hand on the table.

After the dessert that I'd ordered without any useless sense of guilt. I wanted to give my last goodbye to the city. It wasn't cold. The piercing chill of my first weeks seemed just a memory. I walked up to Notre Dame and sat on a bench to observe the passersby. I had a curious feeling that it was too soon for me to leave Paris, as if I still had to accomplish something here.