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Story of the Aging Beauty Queen

    In the last chapter, Angelica gave up her modeling career because she did not want to be a fake. Her boyfriend/agent took off with their daughter and went to Europe. In a deep depression, Angel went into seclusion on her estate, living off the money she made as a supermodel. It is now 1980, and Angel is running out of money. She burned bridges in the fashion world, it will be hard to mend them. She takes what little she has left and makes the trip from her estate in Louisiana to New York.   

Starting New

     Angelica looked out her hotel window at the New York spring shower. It was rather cool out, unlike the fresh spring air she left behind on her estate. She walked back to the desk and stared at the money she got at the pawn shop for her engagement ring. She put the last picture of her daughter, Christi, on the desk, along with a list of appointments for the next morning. She combed out her long, graying hair and braided it. She looked down, remembering how her long locks had such a rich black color, only to fade to gray at such an early age. She glanced at the reflection of her too short skirt, bearing the once famous legs under all the early 70's miniskirts. "Here I am, 30, and still dress like I was 18. I'm pathetic.", she said to her reflection. "This is a longshot.", she continued. But modeling was all Angel knew. If this trip failed, she was resigned to moving back with her family in the delta and making a living some other way. "I've been poor before, I can be poor again. I just want my Christi back!", she yelled. She knew she would not make loads of money, she just wanted another chance. She went to bed early, but did not sleep well.

     The next morning came. Angel put her hair up to hide as much of the gray as possible. The last foot or so of her hair was still darker colored, so she let this part hang free down past her shoulders from a top knot above. This was the last chance for her graying hair. If the interviews went poorly, she was willing to cut off and color her hair, now approaching her knees. She didn't include any shots in her portfolio with her long hair down at all, just in case she decided to cut it. The rain had stopped overnight, but colder weather set in. Angel stopped on the way to the first appointment and bought a set of mid priced boots to match her out of date short, tight dress. They were by a designer,  Z.Michael, one she never heard of.

     The first interview was with Rob, a creative consultant for a sports apparel label. He looked over her portfolio, and decided she didn't have the right look for sporting apparel. The second interview went a little better. It was with Tony, a VP for a designer label. He wanted a look that was more mature for a new line of dresses for the "over thirty crowd".

     "Honey, how about we lose some of this hair and talk?" he said. "Such a drastic image change can't be made that quickly. Let me think about it.", she returned. "I mean it. We have hairdressers on staff. Let's take it off up to the jawbone, as our target customers usually have bobbed haircuts. Long hair went out with the peace sign. If you haven't noticed, that short dress you have went out with the long hair.", he laughed. "By the way, how long is your hair?", he asked. "About three inches shy of my knees. Are you offering me a job if I cut off my hair and take off this dress and wear yours?"", she answered in a Louisiana tone. "Not exactly. Not until I can see what you look like in the new line of dresses and a short haircut.", he answered. "Not every woman cuts off her hair and stops wearing flattering dress when she reaches thirty." she said. Silence followed.

    He looked at more of her portfolio. Noticing some of her work with Keystone, he asked, "Why did you give up on modeling before?". "I had a disagreement with Keystone and I needed some time away, anyway. I didn't give it up, I just took a short time off.", she exclaimed. "You have a point. I've seen many a woman look good after 30, but we're trying to sell to the baby boomer masses, not the very few who remain as attractive as they were at say, 20, honey. Let's do a few shots and see what happens. OK?", he asked. They did a few shots of Angel and the new dress line. This line of dresses made Angel look older. They seemed more meant for her mother than for her. "Don't you have anything with lower necklines or anything strapless in this new line? Maybe something a little more snug around the legs?", she asked. "Remember, honey, not all women look as good as you do when they get older. This line is meant for them, not you. I'll contact your agent if we use any of this material. If you ever cut your hair, come back and we'll talk more. Where do I find your agent?", he asked. "You're looking at her." she replied as she tuned to leave. "You can reach me at my estate.", she continued as she reached the door. "Those look like Z. Michael boots." he told her as she was walking out. "Yes, must be new, I never heard of this label until today.", she added. Tony said, "The guy has a great eye for design, but can't sell heat in the arctic if his life depended on it. He has zero marketing expertise. He won't last long. Have a nice day." The third interview went much like the first, and number four showed little hope.

     It was now four o'clock, and Angel went back to hotel with only the one prospect. She let down her long hair, letting it fall almost to her knees. She looked at herself in the mirror with her long flowing hair and short, tight dress with the boots. She thought about when her hair was rich in color and how it drew so much attention. She thought of how her miniskirts showed off her legs so well in her prime. She still loved her long hair and tight miniskirts, but she realized the time was here to give up and change. She started to cry at the thought of cutting her long hair. She found a phone book and found the closest salon to her hotel. She called and found they would accept walk-ins. It seemed so unfair, so many years of growing her hair, and it will be gone in a matter of minutes. Leaving her hair down, she started for the salon. Upon reaching the salon, she noticed a quaint bar & grill across the street. She decided to have a few drinks before destroying her long graying hair. "Maybe, it will be a little easier to accept this if I'm drunk!", she thought. She sat at the bar and ordered a bottle of red wine. She was halfway through the bottle when a guy walked in the bar, looking worried and depressed, and sat three stools down from Angel. He ordered a beer and a shot of whiskey. The bartender seemed to know him, he called him Zane. "Give me another!" shouted Zane. "Rough day, huh, Zane?" the bartender asked. "Yeah, it's about over. My line is just not selling and the bank is ready to eat me alive. I just can't get seem to get an edge on the market. Somewhere, there HAS to be an untapped market for what I design!" said Zane. The bartender tended to other customers as Zane and Angel drank in their own depressing worlds, only three stools apart.

     Zane and Angel looked at each other about the same time, neither feeling any pain about now. Angel was teary eyed, about ready to go across the street and cut off her hair. She finished the whole bottle of wine and got up from the barstool and headed for the door. "Hey, great hair!" said Zane in a louder tone than he would normally use sober. Angel looked back, "Look now, because I'm going across the street to get it chopped off.", she said in her southern accent. Immediately, he jumped up. "Why on earth would you do that?", he inquired. "No one will give me work with my hair long like this. With a short cut and new color, maybe I'll have a better chance. These fashion consultants, they just don't understand. Just because I'm thirty, I have to cut my hair and wear my mother's style of dresses. We can be beautiful at thirty, and they don't understand. What's wrong with something flattering in size 12? You're only twenty for a small portion of your life!", she cried. Zane stood with his mouth open. "There it is! something for the woman who still has her great looks, but only a little more mature!", he thought. Noticing his Z. Michael boots she was wearing with her short dress and assessing her knee length hair, he felt she might be the key to saving the company. "Wait. Give me a moment of your time before you go and chop off that great hair.", he pleaded. "Why? Why save something that cant be saved? Unless you know of someone who wants an older model with long graying hair that still thinks it's OK to show some leg in this world, then let it rest. If you will excuse me, I have a date with a hairdresser.", she scowled. Zane needed a pitch. This woman must have had a reason she bought his design. "Those boots! Why did you buy that particular pair?", he asked. "Because it was cold this morning and I brought open toe sandals. My toes were freezing. I live in the south and don't like the cold. I liked the front zipper and the extra lining. They were functional, yet had some style and went well with my dress that all of these experts say is out of style! You're the second to notice these boots. Why?", she asked. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Zane Michael Pleasant, maker and designer of your boots.", he said, picking up his briefcase. "I am interested in your ideas of what women of your age group want to feel good about yourselves! Here's my card. Meet me at one o'clock tomorrow, with your long hair down and free and your idea of what a sexy older woman wants in clothing. I would like to discuss a consulting job with you. If you give in to peer pressure and cut your hair, don't bother showing up. The choice is yours." He stumbled out of the bar, never asking her name. Angel walked back to her hotel, her hair having a reprieve from the shears.

     Angel kept the appointment. Zane's secretary announced her, but, being drunk at the time, he did not know her name. "Does she have long hair to her knees and have a short, tight dress or skirt?", he asked his secretary. She affirmed that and let her in. They discussed some new items to add to his collection that would be flattering to her. Things went well. He warned her of the peril his business was in and that it may not last long. He offered her a small pay with huge bonuses if this new line sold well. He was willing to let her work from her estate, if it would help with creativity. He wanted her to return at least once a month to New York. Angel's trip was a success, as long as Z. Michael stayed out of trouble.

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