Chapter 121
Melvin was on the verge of exploding. The person in front of him, an unknown actor, had already tried on twenty-four suits, taking almost three hours, yet each suit had something he found fault with, requiring them to start over again. Even Anne Hathaway hadn’t been this troublesome.
Of course, it was common for an actress to try on fifty dresses for the Oscars, but this guy was only attending the Emmys. Why all the fuss? It seemed that with a little bit of success, he was already starting to show off. Melvin couldn’t help but roll his eyes, openly displaying his dissatisfaction. His time was incredibly precious; he had no interest in playing dress-up games with some nobody.
If it weren’t for Andy Rogers’ influence, he wouldn’t have bothered dealing with such an unsophisticated rube. Thinking of the Creative Artists Agency that backed Andy, Melvin exhaled a long breath and reminded himself to endure a bit longer for the sake of future opportunities.
“I think this suit is great—it’s youthful and full of energy, with very tailored cuts that fit your style well. Just slick your hair back with some gel, and you can’t go wrong,” Melvin said, his patience stretched thin, with a hint of indifference in his tone.
In the full-length mirror, the suit’s Scottish tartan pattern—bright red, deep blue, and black—felt dizzying, almost too much so. If they swapped the pants for a solid colour, it would improve the look considerably. This outfit might work for a fashion gala or an afterparty, but for the Emmys, it screamed desperation, radiating a “please notice me” vibe.
Hearing Melvin’s words, Renly frowned slightly. He could feel the stylist’s impatience, but the issue was that he was the one trying on the suits—he was more exhausted and impatient than Melvin. Plus, they were paying Melvin to style him, so he should be doing his job responsibly. After trying on more than twenty suits, LRenly was seriously beginning to doubt if Andy had been duped. Melvin’s professionalism was, frankly, questionable.
Renly maintained basic politeness and said, “Personally, I think this suit is too flashy and unsuitable for the Emmys.”
Melvin raised an eyebrow, a hint of sarcasm tugging at his lips—what did this small-town rube know, questioning his expertise? “Then which one do you think is appropriate?” Melvin stepped aside, gesturing toward the garment rack behind him. “Why don’t you try on that Vivienne Westwood? It’s a British brand; I think it’ll suit you well.”
Renly frowned and replied with a less-than-friendly tone, “Are you joking? I just said this one was too flashy, and now you’re suggesting Vivienne Westwood? I don’t see how that’s a wise choice. As a stylist, is this garment rack all you’ve got? Is this your entire selection—a stash of leftovers from fashion magazine storage?” Renly was typically reserved, but that didn’t mean he shied away from conflict or lacked temper. Politeness wasn’t the same as weakness.