La Ville Lumière was more than a little blinding when Alexandra Saxton stepped out the Charles de Gaulle airport and into rumbling Mercedes idling by the curb. The camera flashes went absolutely berserk, exploding in a barrage of shutter clicks that were almost as deafening as the shouted questions from the horde of reporters.
"Alexandra! What are your plans for your Paris show?"
"Alexandra! What can we expect from you this Fashion Week?"
"Alexandra! Does Paris hold any special meaning to you, since you got your start here?"
"Alexandra! Did you bring your daughter with you in this trip?"
"Alexandra! Where is your assistant? Was she fired?"
"Alexandra! Did you—"
Alexandra, is it true—"
"Alexand—"
"Alex…"
They faded immediately after the car's heavy door closed behind the immaculate brunette as she made herself comfortable in the leather backseat. The security detail posted outside did their best to keep the reporters from completely taking over the black car. Still, muted thumps against the body of the vehicle could be heard as the crowd of paparazzi tried in vain to snap another picture of the designer from behind tinted windows. Luckily, none of the reporters seemed to have a death wish, and they scattered like roaches at the first sign of the vehicle pulling into traffic.
Andrea Sachs blew a rogue strand of hair from her face in exasperation. She would never not be bothered by reporters. She took off her round Ray-Bans and exhaled in apparent relief, turning to the other occupant of the vehicle in the backseat, who had remained silent.
"Good evening Miranda. What a warm welcome." She said humorously. In fact, Miranda Priestly coming to pick her up at the airport had been completely unplanned on her part; she had been diverted by an old friend picking her up in place of her usual driver.
"Good evening, Andrea. I trust you were happy to see Roy again." Miranda smirked.
"Sure was. Thanks for sending him, he's a great guy." Andrea added truthfully. She had been pleasantly surprised to see Roy and his crinkled eyes, soft smile and grey whiskers, as kind as ever, waiting for her at the terminal.
"He can't hear you, you know" Miranda said, motioning towards the partition that had been pulled up before the brunette had even entered the vehicle.
"I know. I still mean it." Andrea retorted playfully.
Miranda took off her own sunglasses— Prada— and turned to look intently at the younger woman, still breathing somewhat heavily due to her brisk walk away from the reporters. Her cheeks were tinted a healthy shade of pink, her long lashes fluttered and her red lips were slightly parted. She wore a simple but contemporary ensemble that was a mix of Donna Karan and her own brand, no doubt specifically constructed to be comfortable yet fashionable. Miranda subconsciously nodded her approval.
"Well, I thought it would be good to come pick you up, since I have learned you are also staying at the Peninsula. What a coincidence." She said with a knowing look.
Andrea immediately raised her hands in protest.
"Hey, don't look at me. I've been staying there for the past four years. It's not my fault Elias-Clarke decided to switch it up from the Four Seasons this year."
"Hm. Imagine my surprise when the Historic Suite had already been booked. I was so looking forward to enjoying it." Miranda said in mock-sadness.
Andrea laughed.
"Oh, I'm sure you found something else that is suitable. It's an amazing hotel." She pointed out.
Miranda huffed.
"Well, Stanley has got the next one down. And he simply would not allow the funds to the Peninsula Suite. He deemed it excessive."
Andrea laughed freely at Miranda's sour tone.
"Oh, Miranda, come on. Of course it's excessive! It's their best suite!"
The silver haired Editor sent a scathing look the brunette's way.
"That's rich, coming from the one who snagged their second best." She accused.
The younger woman simply rolled her eyes.
"Knock it off, Miranda. I'm staying in Paris longer than you are; and I'll have company."
Miranda's eyebrows twitched slightly upward.
"What kind of company? Your guard-dog Claire, I presume?"
Andrea gave Miranda a look.
"Yes and no. Claire's coming tomorrow with Allie; I want to spend some time with her here."
Miranda was visibly surprised.
"You're bringing your daughter along for Fashion Week? Don't you think it'll be too much exposure?" she asked.
Andrea's shoulders slumped a little in defeat.
"Yeah. She'll stay mostly at the hotel with her nanny during Fashion Week. After the furore dies down, I wanted to take her exploring a little."
She turned to look at her old boss and gave her a sad smile.
"At least money can buy a good amount of privacy." She admitted.
Miranda at once understood. Hadn't she gone through the exact same thing with her darling girls? She remembered the first time she took them to Paris. She had worked non-stop, and they had stayed at the hotel with their nanny as well. By the end, however, she took three days off and moved heaven and earth to spend some private time with them; whatever the cost. They ended up having private visits to the Louvre and the Musée D'Orsay after hours. It was a fond memory; the girls had appreciated the effort their mother had put into all of it.
"I know the feeling well" she sighed, then sent a playful look the brunette's way. "If you're interested in private visits to the museums, I know exactly who you should talk to" she winked.
If Andrea was surprised by the Editor's playful antics, she didn't let on. Inwardly, however, she knew she would never get used to seeing Miranda Priestly wink, or crack a joke, or send a wry smile her way. It was miles away from the cold yet mercurial woman who used to verbally eviscerate her for cold coffee.
The two women rode in companionable silence until they reached the Peninsula Hotel, in the heart of Paris. Unsurprisingly, there was a horde of reporters in wait, their cameras already flashing away madly before they even got out of the car.
"Now how crazy would they go if we left this car together?" Andrea said with a chuckle.
"Ah, I can see the headlines already. 'Alex Sax in Cahoots With the Devil'; 'Evil Queen Enraptures Fashion's Sweetheart'." Miranda retorted, amused.
"'Fashion's Sweetheart'? Come on, who the hell calls me that?"
Miranda shrugged her shoulders playfully.
"If they don't, they should. You're everybody's favourite. And I believe you would be considered a sweetheart to most people, at least according to the standard."
Andrea paused to look at the silver-haired woman beside her in astonishment. Did Miranda Priestly just call her a sweetheart?
"Come off it, Miranda. After what I did to come out as Alex Sax, what I did to you, would you really call me a sweetheart?" She challenged.
"Hm, when you put it that way. But no, knowing what I know of Andrea Sachs, both past and present, I would still say she is a sweetheart." Miranda said with a raised eyebrow. She seemed to take a moment longer to ponder something further.
"Alexandra Saxton, on the other hand, is a fiery one." She added with a smirk, before stepping out of the vehicle and into the storm of camera flashes, leaving an open-mouthed Alexandra to hastily put on her sunglasses and follow.
Paris Fashion week proceeded as lavish as ever, with the city packed to the brim with fashion figureheads from the highest and lowest echelons of the industry alike scrambling to make everything perfect. The Alexandra Saxton show was no different— models and photographers scurried behind the scenes, moments before the show was to start. Assistants and make-up artists worked in a caffeine induced high, checking that every last minute detail was up to standard— Saxton standard.
In the middle of it all, for once, Alexandra Saxton was not in the same hurry as everybody else; though she kept a watchful eye over every development. Her attention, however, was mostly focused at the little girl by her side.
"Allie, don't wander off, please. Stay with me until the show is over, then you can go with Mary while I have to meet everyone else." She said gently, but firmly, trying to make sure her daughter actually heard it all; the little girl was fascinated with the hubbub and seemed a little too enthralled to actually listen.
After finally getting a nod of confirmation and a mumbled affirmative response, Andrea could rest a little easier. She really needn't worry; the girl's nanny was watching them like a hawk, and so was Claire, though that didn't exactly fit her job description. Still, Andrea would only be entirely calm again when she was back at the hotel with her daughter.
It wasn't exactly planned, to have Allie with her during the show. The little girl had insisted, and, funnily enough, so had Claire. It wasn't like they would parade her in front of reporters. The only photographers allowed backstage were the ones Andrea had hired for her own collection. No one came through without Andrea's express permission; a dictum that was enforced by two sets of bodyguards at the two entrances. Claire had said it was excessive, but they had stopped four paparazzi already, so she had accepted defeat.
"Mum, are you gonna walk out there in the end?" Allie asked, pointing at the curtains separating them from the runway.
"Yeah. The models are going to walk out there one by one; they change as they go right over there" she pointed to the mirrored area where a handful of models prepared for the first run, a flurry of assistants hovering among them. "Then once they are all done, I walk out and wave at everyone."
"Can I walk with you?" the little girl asked expectantly.
Andrea winced internally.
"Not today, sweetie. This is all very new still, so people go a little too crazy. Maybe when it's settled down a bit?"
The brunette fully expected a tantrum, or at least some incessant pleading from her daughter. To her surprise, however, the little one simply nodded, not looking to happy, but understanding.
"OK. When it's settled down then."
"Wait, really?" Andrea asked before she could stop herself.
Allie looked up at her mother and smiled.
"Yeah. I really want to go, but Claire said it's hard for you to juggle all the paps and everyone wanting a piece of you. So I should be good." She squinted at her mother. "Am I being good?"
Andrea bent down and hugged her daughter earnestly.
"Very good. Maybe you've even earned some ice-cream."
"Ice-cream? Oh, yay!"
Before long, Allie was handed off to Mary so Andrea could step into the skin of Alexandra and get down to business. She made last minute checks on the outfits the models wore, and once the music started, barked out instructions and snapped her fingers to call them to attention as they walked out and back. The entire operation worked flawlessly, with an almost mechanical precision as models filtered out and back in, in a hurry to get into the next outfit.
Faint clapping could be heard through the curtains and the music, but the immediate reaction was not important at the moment; Alexandra would get the actual praise as she stepped out.
When it did happen, it was as expected: standing ovations echoed through the artistic space as the tall brunette confidently made her way through the runway the models had previously occupied. Every patron stood in their applause, continuing it until way after Alexandra Saxton was already behind the curtains once more.
"Miranda, Miranda, did you see the dress mum made?"
"Why, dear, there were quite a few dresses in the collection. You'll have to be a little bit more specific."
"The one with the ruffly things."
"The one with the ruffly things, you say? I do believe that was one of my favourites."
Andrea tried to supress her grin at the exchange she heard between her former boss and her daughter. Who knew Miranda was this patient with kids?
As her very arrival in the city, this outing had not been planned. After the Saxton after-party, already ensconced in her lavish suite at the Peninsula, Andrea received a phone call.
"Come to the back lobby. Bring Alice."
Andrea had stared at the receiver for a good minute, in comical reminiscence of her initial days at Runway, as she gaped at her mobile after some impossible demand. Miranda had given no explanation, as she was prone to do. Andrea kind of wanted to call back and say that it was way, way past Allie's bedtime — despite the fact that her little gremlin had ingested copious amounts of sugar, and was currently jumping from couch to couch in the apartment's previously pristine living room in a heated game of "The Floor is Lava."
Before she could contemplate it any further, the phone rang again, she picked up on instinct.
"If would be so kind." The soft voice said almost sheepishly from the other end before hanging up once again.
Andy grinned from ear to ear before summoning her restless spawn.
Presently, her little monster was sitting between herself and Miranda Priestly, in the back of Miranda's Mercedes. The sugar was evidently still a long way from wearing off. Andrea simply sat back and watched the streets they passed as Allie chattered away, not exactly with, but at Miranda. The silver haired woman was taking it all remarkably well, though Andrea supposed she had brought it upon herself.
Allie finally stopped talking once she recognized the iconic glass pyramids, illuminated brightly in the dark.
"The Louvre! Look, mum! It's the Louvre!"
Andrea sent Miranda a puzzled look, but received nothing in response. The streets were deserted; there was not a soul in sight. The Editor opened her door and beckoned the two brunettes beside her to follow. Andrea quickly made her way out, grasping her daughter's hand tightly as they went after Miranda.
Before they could fully stop at a side entrance, the door opened by itself, just like in a horror film. Andrea was about to exclaim something, but it died in her throat when a friendly looking security guard greeted them. His wrinkled eyes twinkled brightly as he saw Miranda and subsequently invited them in.
"Bonne nuit, Madame Priestly." He said in a raspy voice, closing the door behind them.
"Gérard, mon ami. Comment-allez vous?" Miranda responded in kind, in impeccable French.
"J'vais bien, merci. Allez."
The three followed the friendly security guard for quite a few minutes in the darkened halls of the museum. Andrea noticed her spawn was suspiciously quiet; taking in all the incredible works of art with great interest and a hint of wonder.
Gérard finally left them at a large room, bidding 'adieu' to Miranda with an exaggerated yet sincere bow. The prominent display was a wall with glass over a small portrait.
Miranda let Andrea and Allie stare at it for a few moments without saying anything. Andrea had seen it in person once; but generally she avoided crowded museums like the plague, and there was nothing that brought more crowds in a museum than the Mona Lisa.
"Allie, dear, do you know who that is?" Miranda asked the little brunette.
"The Mona Lisa?" Allie answered without missing a beat.
"That's right." The Editor beamed, as if Cassidy or Caroline had said it.
Allie took a few more moments to carefully analyse the famous painting. She leaned a bit closer, squinted, and finally huffed.
"It's so tiny!"
The child's exclamation drew peals of laughter from the two adults, which bounced off the walls of the empty museum in a cacophonous echo.
"Yes, it is quite small" Miranda conceded. "What do you think of it, size aside?"
The little girl turned her head from side to side, like a confused puppy, before finally proclaiming:
"Eh. It's not bad, I suppose."
The three indulged in a quiet walk within the dark corridors, Allie taking the lead, but not too far ahead. Occasionally, a security guard would walk past without acknowledging them besides a polite tip of his hat.
"Thank you for this. It's one thing to see it like this, quite another when you're crammed into a crowd with phones and iPads."
Miranda smirked.
"Don't mention it. You are welcome back anytime; I have arranged it with Gérard."
"You really didn't have to."
"No, I didn't. But I've been through the road you're going. I could give you the one thing you don't have a lot of."
Andrea turned to her former boss, puzzled.
"And what would that be?"
Miranda looked ahead of them in the corridor, where Allie was busy looking at a winged statue with no head. She sighed.
"Time."
