Chapter 120
“Apologies for the wait.” Melvin quickly descended the staircase, wearing a polite smile. He immediately spotted Andy, who was beaming, and the young man seated beside him.
The young man wore a cream-coloured T-shirt, iron-grey jeans, and black Vans skate shoes. He looked clean and straightforward—no tattoos, bracelets, or rings. His style was simple and neat. His golden-brown curls were slightly tousled, revealing a handsome face with a calm and poised demeanour, exuding a touch of youthful boldness. On the coffee table nearby sat a glass of milk and some crumbled cookies, the warm scent of milk lingering in the air, seemingly out of place in the atmosphere around them.
Melvin quickly assessed him. There were countless young men like him across Europe—handsome, with a naturally upright posture, often discovered by chance and transformed into the latest sensation on the fashion runway for top brands. These Nordic or Central European youths were often high school dropouts with little depth beyond their youthful allure, quickly rising only to be just as quickly replaced. If this was typical in the modelling industry, then the acting world was even more unforgiving.
At least in modelling, good looks and physique could secure you a brief moment in the spotlight, even if only as fleeting as a shooting star. But in acting, even those with “vase” potential often go unnoticed, blending into the crowd with little chance of standing out.
An Emmy? That’s just television—an industry never short of newcomers and fading stars, crowded to the point of suffocation.
Melvin decided to wrap things up quickly since this newcomer didn’t merit much attention. After a brief introduction, he went straight to the point, “Alright, let’s get started. This young man needs a suit, correct?” He snapped his fingers, and two blonde assistants rolled out a garment rack to the centre of the hall, brimming with outfits that dazzled the eye.
Renly scanned the collection, noting patterns like leopard prints, floral designs, and tie-dye, which made him slightly uncomfortable with their eccentric style. But the range of styles was extensive; just the pants alone came in styles with no darts, single dart, and double dart, while waistcoats, shirts, and jackets were also in plentiful supply. Renly understood that a suit’s true fit could only be judged by wearing it—every slight variation feels different.
This is why the elite often prefer bespoke tailoring—not because of style or innovation, as Savile Row custom suits, for instance, had fallen somewhat behind the pace of fashion trends. But every bespoke suit fits perfectly, crafted to one’s exact measurements and even unique to the wearer, ideal for any occasion or setting.
“Alright, young man, come over here and stand in the centre. I’ll give you a full assessment.” Melvin noticed Renly sitting still, guessing he was probably a bit intimidated, as such an elaborate setup isn’t common. Melvin couldn’t help but smile, recalling his own confusion and awe when he first started in this industry.