Даниэла Стил - The Affair

They were having an early planning session for the massive September issue they published every year. All the major fashion magazines did, but Mode ’s September issue was the most coveted by all. It became a collector’s item every time and was as iconic as Rose herself. She was a fashion legend and everyone wanted to see what Mode was telling them about the styles for the coming winter season. Women redesigned their whole look and wardrobe according to what Mode told them about their makeup, their health, their hair, and what they should wear. Mode didn’t impose anything on them. Their readers begged for what Mode had to offer.

They normally got an early start and began working on each issue three months in advance. But they began working on the September issue even earlier. There was so much to think about, and discuss, starting with who they put on the cover. And beyond that, the theme, the editorials, the articles, and the placement of the ads of their advertisers, who paid a fortune to be highlighted in the September book.

They already had three options for the cover, but none of them excited Rose. They seemed tired and obvious to her. She wanted someone on the cover who would grab their readers’ imaginations and make a big splash. One of the senior editors had suggested a female rock star of major importance. They’d done her several times before, and there was nothing new or different about her, although she was a fabulous-looking woman. They had also considered an Oscar-winning actress, but Rose wanted someone younger. The beauty editor wanted to see the First Lady on the cover. She had won America’s hearts with her good deeds and sharp mind. She was an attorney, and had championed women’s causes since her husband had come to the White House. It was a noble thought, but she had a ladylike, somewhat prim, conservative style, and with the First Lady on the cover, it would be hard to make it about fashion.

“She’s my age,” Rose said with a dissatisfied look. “We can’t do that for September. We can use her later.”

Their most hard-edged senior stylist, Charity Bennett, had another suggestion, and made herself heard shortly after the meeting started. Rose frequently had run-ins with her, but respected her style and quick mind, and Charity often took them the extra mile to something truly avant-garde. She was young and daring. Rose always kept a leash on her so she didn’t take them too far. Charity had jet-black hair, a sharp ivory-white face, and was never afraid of going toe-to-toe with the editor-in-chief. Rose admired her for it, and listened to what she had to say. Even if Rose wasn’t crazy about her personally, the pepper and spice she contributed to their editorials were a good wake-up call to help them stay ahead of current trends.

“What about Pascale Solon?” Charity suggested. “She’s twenty-two years old, spectacular looking, and she just won every prize there was at the Cannes Film Festival for her new film. She’s having a white-hot affair with Nicolas Bateau, who wrote the book the movie was based on. He’s forty-two, nearly twice her age, and they were the big item in Cannes. He made it very obvious that he’s having an affair with her. He’s married of course, and the biggest bestselling author in France. Everyone says she’s going to win an Oscar for the film, and for sure a Golden Globe,” the award given by the foreign press, which often presaged how the Academy would vote for the Oscars. “She’s young, she’s new, and one of the most sensational-looking girls I’ve ever seen. She’s so sexy, she has an almost innocent pornographic quality to her. She makes Lolita look like Minnie Mouse. What do you think?” She looked straight at Rose, who sat quietly, expressionless, thinking and not reacting for a minute. At times, Rose was inscrutable, until she wished to share her thoughts.

“She’s a possibility,” was all Rose would concede. When there was something about an idea she didn’t like, she became Sphinx-like. To those who knew her well, she was obviously not sold on the idea. And if they couldn’t get Rose on board, they all knew it wasn’t going to happen. Rose had to believe in the decisions she made.

“If we don’t get her, Vogue will,” Charity said, knowing that that might make Rose want to grab Pascale before someone else did. Charity knew that Rose never let Mode stoop to tabloid journalism, but they were not above touching lightly on some tantalizing detail of a subject’s personal life, without taking it too far. Rose had rules and set boundaries she expected her editors to respect. She would only agree to what they wrote if it was confirmed as fact, and would not tolerate editorials in the magazine that were handled in a sleazy way. She hated filth and idle gossip. The magazine was about fashion, not peeping into their subjects’ occasionally unsavory lives. If they were famous, they usually had secrets. Charity Bennett always tried to push Rose beyond that line, and when sufficiently annoyed by it, Rose didn’t hesitate to push back. This time, she didn’t comment, she just pursed her lips, which everyone in the room knew was a warning sign to back off.

“We can’t base our interest in her on an affair with a famous writer,” Rose finally commented. “By the time the September book comes out, it could be over anyway. The film just came out. Four months from now she may be sleeping with someone else, and we’ll be old news and look foolish.” She hated publishing gossip, as they all knew, and steered clear of it whenever possible. They did serious articles and interviews about the direction of their subjects’ careers and lifestyles, and an affair with a married man, even a famous one, was not enough to convince Rose to put Pascale on the cover. But there was no question, Pascale Solon had become a major star overnight, in a tough role that she had handled brilliantly. And Nicolas Bateau had been the co-producer and director, and had apparently been coaching her in his spare time. He had gotten a fabulous performance out of her. Rose hadn’t heard about the affair until Charity brought it up. It was just the kind of salacious information and innuendo that Charity thrived on. Rose wanted a fashion story on the cover, not a tell-all piece.

“The affair may not be over as fast as you think,” Charity persisted. “There’s a rumor that she’s pregnant, so we may be right on target with the story in September.” She was smug, as another editor rolled her eyes.

“Oh please, don’t give me another cover of a naked star with a big round belly on the cover. I’d rather see the First Lady in one of her navy blue suits and a white blouse with a bow. We can’t do another pregnant star,” Rose said, starting to seem annoyed.

“It won’t show if we shoot her now.” Charity gave her a quelling look, as Rose went down a list of someone else’s suggestions, none of which grabbed her either.

“What about Michaela Lim?” Rose said, distracted. She was another new young star, and had just delivered a brilliant performance in a recent movie.

“Next year,” Charity countered. “No one’s heard of her yet. She’s not nearly as glamorous as Pascale. And she really is too young. She just turned nineteen. She needs to be more seasoned before we put her on September.” Rose nodded agreement. She had a valid point. “Let’s face it, Nicolas Bateau is a hunk, and if he leaves his wife for Pascale Solon, it’s going to be news around the world, and our September issue is going to be the hottest issue on the stands. I want to grab that,” Charity said with dogged determination. Pascale was heartbreakingly beautiful, and there was no denying that she would look fabulous in anything they put her in. It was a no-brainer, but Rose didn’t like it.