Lulu is briefly stunned into silence. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “You poor thing. You’ve been having a full menty b up there, haven’t you? Probably all the country air, I bet it’s addled your brain.”
My Picturegram feed finally loads. I’m expecting the last photo to be my apology post, but there’s a new one. I tap on it, frowning.
The photograph is a still from the video of me crying in the bathroom. It’s been artfully edited to make me look prettier; there’s a black-and-white filter on it, and my expression has been smoothed so my dripping mascara looks dramatic and soulful. In my sheath dress and sparkly Louboutins, broken lipstick held aloft, I look almost chic.
Confused, I read the caption.
Anyone else having a sad girl Summer? *Lipstick kiss emoji* #SadGirlGlam
The photo was posted three days ago, and it has almost ten million likes.
“What do you think?” Lulu demands.
I don’t understand. “You…posted on my account without asking?”
“Um, I did ask, babe. You just didn’t answer because you’re‘off the grid.’Time was of the essence. I couldn’t wait for you to reemerge.”
“But…I thought we were going to bury the video?” This is, like, the exact opposite of that.
She sighs. “Burying it wasn’t working, it was just making everyone take you way too seriously. Like, hello, you drunk cried, you didn’t burn down an orphanage. So we’re reclaiming it. I should have thought of it sooner, to be honest. Everyone’smiserable right now, watching the news feels like you’re getting repeatedly punched in the face. Of course we’re crying, but we’re crying instyle. People are eating it up, look.”
My finger is shaking as I scroll down to the comments.
She’s so real for this tbh
Ok hear me out — having a breakdown in Chanel is actually iconic
I aspire to look this hot the next time I cry in public
INSPIRED. GORGEOUS. PUT IT IN THE LOUVRE
Is being a dramatic bitch cool now? Finally, my time to shine
The words swim in front of my eyes. I think I may be hallucinating. “How?” I croak.
“I pulled some strings and had a bunch of other influencers post pictures of themselves in designer gear and smeared makeup. ‘Summer Faye cried so I could sob,’ ‘it’s okay to cry,’ that sort of thing. The hashtag blew up.”
“#SadGirlGlam,” I repeat faintly, tapping on it. A slew of videos pops up on my screen, and I scroll through them.
The first is of a girl applying false eyelashes in her car. “Get ready with me to break down in the Taco Bell parking lot,” she tells the camera.“Because we may be sad, but at least we can look hot.”
Swipe.
A teenager in a school uniform, crying. “I swear, I have a full Summer Faye moment every single math class.”She sniffles, pulling out a mascara wand to touch up.
Swipe.
A beauty influencer I’ve been to drinks with a few times beams at the camera with an eerily white smile. “Want to hop on the new sad girl glam trend? Here’s how you do the perfect smudged-and-sultry eye look.”
“I think you’ve singlehandedly brought non-waterproof mascara back in,”Lulu natters. “Your DMs are blowing up. Ooh, and a cosmetics brand reached out, they want to do a limited-edition shade with you called Meltdown.” She pauses.“Which is…a choice. I’ll negotiate the name if you do it. How soon can you get back to London?”
Those words finally snap me out of my haze. “What?”
“We need you here ASAP. Everything is happening, and we have to take advantage.” I hear her nails clacking on her keyboard. “Ugh, it says all of tonight’s flights have been cancelled because of a weather warning. There’s a plane leaving from Inverness tomorrow morning. I’ll send you your ticket.”
“But I can’t come back to London,” I say. “I’m on break for another week.”
There’s a pause.“Babe, I don’t think you realise how big of a deal this is. It’s massive. It’s career defining. Most people never get a chance like this. Everyone’s talking about you right now, and you’ll only get a short window to capitalise on it. I scheduled your five million follower party for Sunday. We’ll get as many people as possible, really make it splashy.”
