office。　My　four　glorious　hours　that　were　supposed　to
  constitute　a　full　night’s　sleep　had　been　rudely　interrupted　by
  a　frantic　call　from　one　of　Karl　Lagerfeld’s　assistants　at　sixA
  。M。；　which　is　precisely　when　I’d　discovered　that　all　of
  Miranda’s　phone　calls　were　being　routed　directly　tomy　room　for
  answering。　It　appeared　the　entire　city　and　surrounding　area
  knew　Miranda　stayed　here　during　the　shows；　and　so　my　phone　had
  been　ringing　incessantly　since　the　moment　I　stepped　inside。
  Never　mind　the　two　dozen　messages　that　had　already　been　left
  on　the　voice　mail。
  “Hi；　it’s　me。　How’s　Miranda　doing？　Is　everything　OK？　Did
  anything　go　wrong　yet？　Where　is　she　and　why　aren’t　you　with
  her？”
  “Hey；　Em！　Thanks　for　caring。　How　are　you　feeling；　by　the　way？”
  “What？　Oh；　I’m　fine。　A　little　weak；　but　getting　better。
  Whatever。　How　isshe　？”
  “Yes；　well；　I’m　fine；　too；　thanks　for　asking。　Yes；　it　was　a
  long　flight　to　get　here　and　I　haven’t　slept　for　more　than
  twenty　minutes　at　a　time　since　the　phone　keeps　ringing　and　I’m
  pretty　sure　it’s　never　going　to　stop；　and；　oh！　I　gave　a
  pletely　impromptu　speech—after　writing　an　impromptu
  speech—to　a　group　of　people　who　wanted　Miranda’s　pany　but
  apparently　weren’t　interesting　enough　to　warrant　it。　Looked
  like　a　giant　fucking　idiot；　actually；　and　nearly　gave　myself　a
  heart　attack　in　the　process；　but　hey；　other　than　that；　things
  are　just　great。”
  “Andrea！　Be　serious！　I’ve　been　really　worried　about
  everything。　There　wasn’t　a　lot　of　time　to　prepare　for　this；
  and　you　know　that　if　anything　goes　wrong　over　there　she’s
  going　to　blame　me　anyway。”
  “Emily。　Please　don’t　take　this　personally；　but　I　can’t　talk　to
  you　right　now。　I　just　can’t　do　it。”
  “Why？　Is　something　wrong？　How　did　her　meeting　go　yesterday？
  Did　she　get　there　on　time？　Do　you　have　everything　you　need？
  Are　you　making　sure　to　wear　appropriate　clothes？　Remember；
  you’re　representingRunway　over　there；　so　you　always　have　to
  look　the　part。”
  “Emily。　I　need　to　hang　up　now。”
  “Andrea！　I’m　concerned。　Tell　me　what　you’ve　been　doing。”
  “Well；　let’s　see。　In　all　the　free　time　I’ve　had；　I’ve　gotten　a
  half…dozen　or　so　massages；　two　facials；　and　a　few　manicures。
  Miranda　and　I　have　really　bonded　over　doing　the　whole　spa
  thing　together。　It’s　great　fun。　She’s　really　trying　hard　not
  to　be　too　demanding；　says　she　really　wants　me　to　enjoy　Paris
  since　it’s　such　a　wonderful　city　and　I’m　lucky　to　be　here。　So
  basically　we　just　hang　out　and　have　fun。　Drink　great　wine。
  Shop。　You　know；　the　usual。”
  “Andrea！　This　is　really　not　funny；　OK？　Now　tell　me　what　the
  hell　is　going　on。”　With　every　degree　more　annoyed　she　sounded；
  my　mood　improved　a　notch。
  “Emily；　I’m　not　sure　what　to　tell　you。　What　do　you　want　to
  hear？　How　it’s　been　so　far？　Let’s　see；　I’ve　spent　most　of　my
  time　trying　to　figure　out　how　best　to　sleep　through　a　phone
  that　won’t　stop　ringing　while　simultaneously　shoving　enough
  food　down　my　throat　between　the　hours　of　two　and　sixA　。M。　to
  sustain　me　for　the　remaining　twenty　hours。　It’s　like　fucking
  Ramadan　here；　Em—no　eating　during　daylight　hours。　Yeah；　you
  should　be　really　sorry　you’re　missing　this　one。”
  The　other　line　began　blinking　and　I　put　Emily　on　hold。　Every
  time　it　rang　my　mind　went　quickly；　uncontrollably；　to　Alex；
  wondering　if　he　just　might　call　and　say　that　everything　was
  going　to　be　just　fine。　I’d　called　twice　on　my　international
  cell　since　I’d　arrived　and　he’d　answered　both　times；　but　like
  the　expert　prank　caller　I’d　been　in　junior　high；　I’d　hung　up
  the　moment　I’d　heard　his　voice。　It’d　been　the　longest　we’d
  ever　gone　without　talking　and　I　wanted　to　hear　what　was　going
  on；　but　I　also　couldn’t　help　feeling　like　life　had　gotten
  significantly　simpler　since　we’d　taken　a　break　from　the
  bickering　and　the　guilt…mongering。　Still；　I　held　my　breath
  until　I　heard　Miranda’s　voice　screeching　from　across　the
  wires。
  “Ahn…dre…ah；　when　is　Lucia　due　to　arrive？”
  “Oh；　hello；　Miranda。　Let　me　just　check　the　itinerary　I　have
  for　her。　Here　it　is。　Let’s　see；　it　says　here　that　she　was
  flying　in　directly　from　the　shoot　in　Stockholm　today。　She
  should　be　at　the　hotel。”
  “Connect　me。”
  “Yes；　Miranda；　just　a　moment；　please。”
  I　put　her　on　hold　and　switched　her　back　to　Emily。　“That’s　her；
  hold　on。”
  “Miranda？　I　just　found　Lucia’s　number。　I’ll　connect　you　now。”
  “Wait；　Ahn…dre…ah。　I’ll　be　leaving　the　hotel　in　twenty　minutes
  for　the　rest　of　the　day。　I’ll　need　some　scarves　before　I
  return；　and　a　new　chef。　He　should　have　a　minimum　of　ten　years’
  experience　in　mostly　French　restaurants　and　be　available　for
  family　dinners　four　nights　a　week　and　dinner　parties　twice　a
  month。Now　connect　me　to　Lucia。”
  I　knew　I　should’ve　gotten　hung　up　on　the　fact　that　Miranda
  wanted　me　to　hire　her　a　New　York　chef　from　Paris；　but　all　I
  could　focus　on　was　that　she　was　leaving　the　hotel—without　me；
  and　for　the　entire　day。　I　clicked　back　to　Emily　and　told　her
  that　Miranda　needed　a　new　chef。
  “I’ll　work　on　it；　Andy；”　she　announced　while　coughing。　“I’ll
  do　some　preliminary　screening　and　then　you　can　talk　to　a　few
  of　the　finalists。　Just　find　out　if　Miranda　would　like　to　wait
  until　she　gets　Home　to　meet　them　or　if　she’d　prefer　if　you
  arranged　for　a　couple　to　fly　there　and　meet　with　her　now；　OK？”
  “You　can’t　be　serious。”
  “Well；　of　course　I’m　serious。　Miranda　hired　Cara　when　she　was
  in　Marbella　last　year。　Their　last　nanny　had　just　quit　and　she
  had　me　fly　three　finalists　to　her　so　she　could　find　someone
  right　away。　Just　find　out；　OK？”
  “Sure；”　I　muttered。　“And　thanks。”
  Just　talking　about　those　massages　had　sounded　so　good；　I
  decided　to　book　one　for　myself。　There　wasn’t　an　appointment
  available　until　early　evening；　so　I　called　room　service　in　the
  meantime　and　ordered　a　full　breakfast。　When　the　butler
  delivered　it　to　me；　I’d　already　crawled　back　into　one　of　the
  plush　robes；　donned　a　pair　of　the　matching　slippers；　and
  prepared　myself　to　feast　on　the　omelet；　croissants；　Danishes；
  muffins；　potatoes；　cereal；　and　crepes　that　arrived　smelling　so
  good。　After　devouring　all　the　food　and　two　cups　of　tea；　I
  waddled　back　to　the　bed　I　hadn’t　really　slept　in　the　night
  before　and　fell　asleep　so　quickly　that　I　wondered　if　someone
  had　slipped　something　in　my　orange　juice。
  The　massage　was　the　perfect　way　to　top　off　what　had　been　a
  blessedly　relaxed　day。　Everyone　else　was　doing　my　work　for　me；
  and　Miranda　had　only　called　and　woken　me　once—once！—to　request
  that　I　make　her　a　lunch　reservation　the　following　day。This
  isn’t　so　bad；　I　thought；　as　the　woman’s　strong　hands　kneaded
  my　twisted　neck　muscles。　Not　a　bad　perk　at　all。　But　just　as　I
  started　to　drift　off　once　again；　the　Cell　Phone　that　I’d
  grudgingly　brought　along　began　its　persistent　ring。
  “Hello？”　I　said　brightly；　as　if　I　weren’t　lying　naked　on　a
  table　covered　in　oil；　half…asleep。
  “Ahn…dre…ah。　Move　my　hair　and　makeup　earlier　and　tell　the
  Ungaro　people　I　can’t　make　it　tonight。　I’ll　be　attending　a
  small　cocktail　party　instead；　and　I　expect　you　to　e　with
  me。　Be　ready　to　leave　in　an　hour。”
  “Um；　sure；　uh；　sure；”　I　stammered；　trying　to　process　the　fact
  that　I　was　actually　going　somewhere　with　her。　A　flashback　from
  yesterday—the　last　time　I　was　told　at　the　very　last　minute
  that　I　was　to　go　somewhere　with　her—flooded　my　brain；　and　I
  felt　as　though　I　would　hyperventilate。　I　thanked　the　woman　and
  charged　the　massage　to　the　room　even　though　I’d　made　it
  through　only　the　first　ten　minutes；　and　I　ran　upstairs　to
  figure　out　how　to　best　maneuver　around　this　newest　obstacle。
  This　was　getting　old。　Quickly。
  It　took　just　a　few　minutes　to　page　Miranda’s　hair　and　makeup
  people　（who；　incidentally；　were　different　from　my　own—I　was
  pieced　together　by　an　angry…looking　woman　whose　look　of
  despair　on　seeing　me　for　the　first　time　haunted　me　still；
  while　Miranda　had　a　pair　of　gay　guys　who　looked　like　they
  stepped　directly　out　of　the　pages　ofMaxim　）　and　change　her
  appointment。
  “No　problem；”　Julien　squealed　in　a　thick　French　accent。　“We
  will　be　there；　how　you　say？　Wearing　bells！　We　clear　our
  schedules　this　week　just　in　the　case　that　Madame　Priestly　need
  us　at　different　times！”
  I　paged　Briget　yet　again　and　asked　her　to　deal　with　the　Ungaro
  people。　Time　to　hit　the　wardrobe。　The　sketchbook　with　all　my
  different　“looks”　was　displayed　prominently　on　the　bedside
  table；　just　waiting　for　a　lost　fashion　victim　like