"Happy cooperation."
Melvin stared at Anson's right hand, placed in front of him, slightly stunned.
He thought he was still hesitating, he thought he didn't care. But in fact, when it finally came to this moment, he was so excited that he didn't know what to do.
Did this really just happen?
In the brief moment of astonishment, a voice exploded from the side, "I don't accept this. I need an explanation."
It was Sam.
Sam's cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes full of disbelief and burning anger as he boldly stared directly into Anson's eyes.
Edgar frowned and didn't wait for Anson to respond, "We don't need to explain anything to you."
Sam was taken aback.
Edgar didn't give him an ounce of face. "You have the right to protest, you have the right to imagine all sorts of things, but we are not obligated to explain our decisions to you."
"If you want to break convention, bring in some rebellious, sophisticated style. A scarf is better than snakeskin."
Hesitant, Anson still managed to control himself. "The belt you chose..."
As soon as he spoke, all eyes turned toward him, including Sam's.
Sorry, Melvin truly didn't mean to, but despite holding back for so long, he finally couldn't help it.
But Melvin quickly realized his blunder, immediately forcing himself to calm down and return to a neutral expression.
Anson seriously considered whether he should step back a bit to avoid getting blood on himself. Bloodstains are hard to get out of clothes.
Anson was quite the character. His insults were so advanced, not even needing to use curse words. He kept smiling the whole time, maintaining the appearance of objective, professional critique, yet his words were ruthless, viciously stabbing straight into Sam's heart. He was a master of metaphorical murder, one that left no visible blood.
Anson didn't stop. "It's absolutely terrible."
Originally, Edgar had wanted to say that there was really no need to respond. Given Anson's current status, he didn't need to care about a character like this. Even if Sam spread some gossip behind his back, it wouldn't matter. After all, when you're famous, controversy follows. No matter how well-behaved and quiet Anson remained, trouble would always come.
"Sorry, but being stylish doesn't mean being cheap. If you're trying to mock me for being a pretty face, please aim accurately. Don't make others mistake me for a gigolo."
And that wasn't the end of it.
Just look at Sam. One second his face was flushed, the next it turned pale as a sheet of paper.
Sam looked like a boiled shrimp, his face bright red, as if he was going to explode at any moment.
However, Edgar still couldn't keep up with Anson's rhythm.
Anson suddenly stepped forward, casually grabbed a Hermes scarf from the rack, walked over to Sam's styled outfit, pulled off the gigolo-style snakeskin belt, folded the scarf into a triangle, and tied it on as a replacement belt.
Edgar looked at Anson with a bit of helplessness.
"If Eddie Slimane saw this snakeskin belt, he'd probably set this whole outfit on fire."
After speaking, Anson lightly shrugged and modestly added, "At least, that's my aesthetic."
Melvin: Pfft.
"At the very least, that's my taste."
Those words, sharp and decisive, without any profanity, were just shy of saying, "Who do you think you are?"
Melvin's eyes lit up. Just changing one accessory transformed the entire outfit, making it bold and fun, yet understated.
It was clear now why Anson could lead fashion trends—it wasn't without reason.
Anyone trying to fool Anson or manipulate him could easily end up backfiring and hurting themselves.
Now Melvin finally understood Eddie's point: If you truly thought Anson was just a pretty face with no substance, you'd be the one to suffer.
Meanwhile, Edgar looked at Sam, who was now ghostly pale and looked like he could barely stand, and suddenly felt the urge to stop Anson.
Bullying someone so defenseless didn't feel right.
Edgar glanced at Anson, who looked completely innocent: How was I supposed to know he was so fragile?
Anson, looking serious, said, "Don't take it to heart. Not everyone is suited for this job."
Sam stared wide-eyed at Anson, unable to hold it together, and finally broke down.
When Melvin and the others left together, Sam, looking utterly defeated, could barely stand. It seemed he might collapse at any moment.
Standing at the doorway, Melvin tried to show some concern for Sam, not as a victor but because Sam truly looked alarming.
However, Sam didn't need it. He didn't even stay for a second. Hastily turning around, he left, but his knees buckled and his body failed to keep up with his brain's pace. He tripped on flat ground and went flying forward in an embarrassing fall.
Melvin and the gentleman next to him were completely dumbfounded.
As they hesitated over whether they should call an ambulance, Sam quickly jumped up, got into his car, and drove off at lightning speed. Before they could even blink, the car had disappeared into the bustling Los Angeles traffic that afternoon.
This...
Melvin and the gentleman exchanged glances.
It was the gentleman who first recovered and extended his right hand to Melvin. "Today's styling was excellent. I've learned a lot, and I admit defeat wholeheartedly. I look forward to your future work."
The gentleman's gracious attitude left Melvin feeling a bit bashful. He nervously shook his hand, "I look forward to working together again in the future."
The gentleman didn't linger, turning around and heading to the parking lot.
Melvin stood there, his thoughts churning, still finding it hard to believe that things had turned out this way.
As he looked ahead, it seemed as if he could see Anson playing rugby again, his smile blossoming under the sunlight.
It felt as though he had just opened the door to a whole new world. Being a personal stylist might not be as simple as he once thought.
The first step: the premiere of Catch Me If You Can.
...
Melvin had always been confident. He believed in his abilities and talent and knew that he would eventually carve out a path for himself.
So, when it came to the Catch Me If You Can premiere, Melvin was full of confidence. He believed that the look he designed for Anson would shine, even under immense pressure—
After all, Anson had shone brilliantly at the premieres of The Princess Diaries and Spider-Man, solidifying his fashion image; and both times, he wore Dior.
Naturally, when Anson broke this mold and appeared at the Catch Me If You Can premiere with a fresh look, the pressure was unimaginable.
But Melvin was confident. In himself and in Anson.
However!
Even with all his confidence, when he saw Anson step onto the premiere's red carpet in front of the Chinese Theatre, Melvin was still shocked.
More precisely, it was the reactions of the media and fans on the scene. The overwhelming wave of excitement and adoration, like the heat of summer breaking through the winter chill, erupted in an instant, sending the entire Hollywood Boulevard into a frenzy. The crowd was overwhelmed by the shock, awe, and screams, almost to the point of chaos.
Melvin couldn't believe his eyes, nearly choking on his own saliva. He suddenly felt like a clueless newbie.
Of course, he was a newbie.
It was December 24, 2002, Christmas Eve, when the Catch Me If You Can premiere was held at the Chinese Theatre in Los Angeles, and Anson's moment in the spotlight officially began.