"I think I am going to pass out any moment now", Star gasped. She looks gorgeous; hair in a messy bun, diamond drop earrings, silver crystal encrusted clutch and her favourite nude YSL tribute sandals complemented her Oscar worthy look.
"You just got into the dress less than an hour ago. Star, I can't have you pass out in your Valentino grown anytime tonight!" Melanie said, hands holding Star forearms and slightly massaging it.
"The corset inside is literally blocking my respratory system!" Star complained.
"I told you to wear something less fussy!" Melanie scolded. Melanie looks every inch a movie star. Her long hair tied up in a severe ponytail, cream BV knot clutch and deep brown peep toe pumps with her gold Gucci number; with a plunging neckline no less.
The four of us are in the lift going down to the 2nd floor, where the grand ballroom is. I look at my reflection on the glass wall of the lift. "You look really dapper. The Tom Ford fits you like a dream", Steven said, him looking like he just got out of a GQ photoshoot in his Dolce & Gabbana tux. "Thanks", I smiled weakly, getting slightly uncomfortable. From the corner of my eye I could see Melanie trying to hold her laughter.
"Stop flirting the two of you! I'm about to die here!" Star shouted. Steven let out a chuckle and then said, "Guys there is going to be a mini red carpet event outside the ballroom. I invited a couple of my photographer friends. It is going to be fun!"
"How many is "a couple" Stevie boy?" Melanie asks, deadpan.
"About fifteen? A couple of media friends are also going to be there."
"Fifteen? Okay now not am I going to die from the lack of oxygen, I am also going to get an epileptic seizure from all those flashlights!" Star cried.
"Star, you're such a drama queen. Are you going to have a fake meltdown as well?" I shook my head. Before she could answer, the lift door opened and we were greeted with a blinding array of flashlights going off. Now I know how George Clooney feels like every award season, standing in front of a room full of photographers; naked, nervous, uneasy and a million insecure questions running inside the head going all at once.
Star on the other hand is totally working it in front of the photogs. She looks like she has been doing it for years. Pose after pose, pout after pout, even managed to blow an imaginary flying kiss, thinking she is Marilyn "Fucking" Monroe.
Melanie, who is standing beside me started to whisper in between smiles and teeth showing, "Oh, no more breathing difficulties? I feel like going to her and really knocking the wind out of her chest."