Chapter Fourteen
A darts player in the 1980s
The snacks on offer in First Class are rather disappointing. I have always imagined it as an opulent, exclusive place, like theOrient Expressor similar – a Dowager Duchess at the bar and waiters with white cloths on their arms serving Sidecars. What even is a Sidecar? Cassia would probably know. I’m about to google it, but get distracted by a video (Kendall Jenner Shares Her Acne Journey). I’m only watching videos that feature young beauty tips these days.Then the steward appears out of nowhere – he looks me up and down, asks me what I’d like (a packet of Tyrrells, thanks), where I’m heading (Paddington) and if I’m enjoying First Class (Yuvana Labs paid for it. I don’t share that information, although you can tell he’s wondering why I’m in the expensive seats at my ‘age’).
This is all very strange and is going to take a lot of getting used to: going from being the invisible woman to theveryvisible woman, almost overnight. I’d forgotten how much people notice you when you’re young and female. You’re fair game, public property, up for grabs… Constant stares, smiles, and of course, unwanted approaches. I seriously hope the tube isn’t like it was when I worked in London twenty years ago, when a penis against your back or an ‘ooops!’ hand on your tit was just part of a normal morning’s commute. Things have improved though, right, since the whole#metoothing?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. Being invisible was rubbish. And it wasn’t just about looks, but being overlooked (see what I did there?). If you weren’t part of a couple, you weren’t invited, or asked or considered. And in public spaces,well, forget it. Middle-aged women are background noise. Unless you’re in a ‘role’, like being a mother, or doing your job, or you’re famous or something. I suppose that’s why middle-aged women go for statement jewellery and those massive glasses like Val fromGlow Up. No thanks. Youth is currency and my balance (for once) is in the black. I’m not going to lie, I do feel a bit exposed though. I’ll get used to it.
There are two other young people in the carriage – both women, both wearing long woollen coats like Phoebe Buffay inFriends, but with less make-up than I wore in the Nineties, or indeed two weeks ago. Thank god I don’t have to bother with all that contour faff anymore. The women have given me a discreet nod of approval. It’s like a secret club these days, being young – exchanged glances, knowing looks – and so many compliments on your ‘fit’ (outfit, I have learnt since the Brew & Beam incident – just as I have discovered that ‘drip’, in contrast to what it previously meant to me, is a good thing.) Were we ever this nice to each other?
The fashion part of this is as complicated as the language. For example, I’ve noticed a trench coat and baseball cap combo is popular, a fact I recently shared with my mother on the way to Carol’s funeral, just making small talk – but she thought I said ‘trench foot and baseball bat’ so I didn’t pursue the conversation after that. However, that look doesn’t feel very ‘me’, and as this trip to London is my first time ‘out’ since IT happened, and I’ve decided to dress slightly differently – to match my face to my clothes and look more like other twenty-somethings I’ve seen – I did a bit of research on YouTube and TikTok.
I discovered that young people don’t have ‘looks’ or ‘styles’ like we used to, they have ‘aesthetics’. And quite often these have the word ‘Core’ at the end. For example, the look… sorry, aesthetic… I’m trying today is called Picnic Core, which I chose mainly because I haven’t been shopping yet and had a ginghamblouse at the back of the cupboard. The alternatives were also less appealing: Fisherman Core, which I feel Simon/Semen has got covered for both of us; Y3K, which feels faintly terrifying as Y2K is still fairly recent to me, or Castle Core, which is all floaty dresses and weirdly, in one video I watched, stick-on pointy ears.
My Picnic Core aesthetic also involves carrying a giant, ideally wicker, basket (which I found in a cupboard too, I think it might be Alannah’s) to give the impression I could set up a picnic spontaneously at any moment (unlikely, as it’s still winter) and liberal use of blusher to suggest either sunburn and/or enthusiastic consumption of strawberries. It’s a ‘whole thing’ apparently. And genuinely confusing considering I grew up in a time when you were either square, or a goth, or a Sloane, or a raver, and that was that. To complete the look, I’ve also cut my hair into a blunt fringe using Ikea kitchen scissors and a YouTube tutorial for guidance, which makes me look even more unrecognisable, if that were possible. In general though, the Gen Z fashion rule seems to be: if it’s far too big, doesn’t match and might have previously been worn by a darts player in the Eighties, wear it – and a random person will tell you that you have ‘main character energy’. What a time to be alive.
An hour or so later, I am standing in the foyer of theLusciousoffices in Soho. The receptionist, Liz, (who I’ve definitely met before) thinks I’m some straight-out-of-college wannabe fashion editor trying to barge my way in and demand an internship. This is the kind of thing that would normally bring me out in a hot flush, but I feel at an unusually normal temperature. I message Merlyn.
In reception but Liz won’t let me come up. E
I’ll be down in 5 my dear. Excited to see the new you! I’ve a table booked for lunch. M
I tell Liz that Merlyn is coming down to meet me, which she clearly doesn’t believe, but at least she lets me have a seat in the reception area on one of the really uncomfortable brown leather swivel chairs with a back so low, what is even the point? I watch people coming and going, several of whom I recognise – but nobody recognises me. It’s bizarre, as though I’m in one of those films where people shapeshift, like… I can’t think of the names of any but there’s definitely one with Brie Larson, I watched it at Simon’s house with Oli a while back.
Merlyn sits opposite me in Brasserie Zédel in Piccadilly. I have walked past this place many times and always wondered what’s behind the grand Art Deco façade that promises ‘Bar & Cabaret’. Quite a lot, I thought, as I wandered about looking for the brasserie itself in amongst doors to the Bar Américain and Le Crazy Coqs, whatever that is or indeed, who they, are.
Merlyn can’t take her eyes off me. ‘I’m mesmerised, my dear… It’s extraordinary.’ I look at her turban and can’t help thinking the same.
‘I was pretty hot when I was young, wasn’t I? I mean – aren’t I?’ I say, and order the steak haché. I am hoping fortrois piècesfrom theChariot de Fromagesafterwards too.
‘I certainly prefer it to your omelette look,’ says Merlyn, raising an eyebrow and sucking her cheeks in, but with a smile. ‘And Dr Marcus and the team are pleased with the results?’
‘Yup,’ I say, mouth crammed with bread – why is butter in French restaurants like the dairy version of crack? ‘Well, my review is this afternoon, but they seem happy from all the pictures I’ve sent in.’
‘And how are you finding it all?’ Merlyn is peering at my forehead, then my jawline, my neck…
‘Well, I’ve had to pretend to my postman that I’m my own niece, and I haven’t told any of my friends and family yet…’
Merlyn stops her scrutiny and looks at me directly. ‘What about Nandy?’
‘I’m seeing her this evening. She’s going to explode when she sees me.’
‘Explode…?’
‘She won’t be able to believe it. She’ll be so happy for me.’
Merlyn nods but doesn’t say anything. I continue. ‘So… I’m avoiding my family, men look at me all the time, I’m constantly thinking about sex and…’
Merlyn interrupts. ‘And you love it?’
‘Yeah. I love it, Merlyn.’
We burst out laughing, and Merlyn tops up our glasses with Pouilly-Fuissé.
‘Also, I can drink at lunchtime and not have to go to bed at six p.m. Being young is brilliant.’ I laugh again, then compose myself. ‘Do you know when the social media stuff is starting? I’m waiting to hear from someone…’
‘Ah yes. Channing. Don’t worry, he’s been on holiday. The plan is that theLusciousadvertorial – which, by the way, we will need to shoot very soon – will have the new Instagram handle@wokeuplikethisat the end, instead of a by-line, and readers will rush to follow “WULT® Woman”.Lusciousis also doing asocial media advertising campaign at the same time, just to drive followers.’
I have never heard Merlyn talk about things like ‘handles’ and ‘driving followers’ before.
Our food arrives: my steak haché, which is basically a posh burger, and her steak tartare, which to me looks more like the ingredients for a meal than an actual meal: mince with an egg yolk on top and a lettuce leaf next to it.
‘Can we have cheese after this?’ I ask.
‘You can have what you like, it’s on Yuvana. Remember…’ She reaches over the table and holds my hand, not without taking a second to scrutinise the condition of it. ‘Make the most of all this, my dear. You might as well.’
