CLAUDE: The Lumina Ball, Four Days before THE day

I arrived in an elegant limousine, alone. Tons of flashing lights cover the whole scene and I felt the pressure of comparison before I even stepped on the blinding red carpet awaiting my car door. As soon as our limo stopped on the walkway, paparazzis flocked on my tinted window and started asking inaudible questions. I wonder how much the Kardashians crave privacy, how Beyonce may have been taking this kind of life, or if the Jennifers of Hollywood also try to disguise themselves as ordinary people in malls too, just like me.

I've always understood Sia for hiding her real identity. She said she wanted to shop freely at Target, with her song Chandelier playing on the radio, without getting recognized. I wanted that too, if I had a choice. She said she wanted people to love her for her music alone and not for how she looks. I wish I could say people would love me too for my talent rather than because of my name, but I guess I couldn't because I didn't have anything else aside from my name.

I was taken back to reality when a blinding light flashed through my window. Paparazzis are and will always be the worst. I hate them, really. Because no matter how hard you try to act good on camera, they will always find an angle of you that will make you look bad. That's their talent, I guess. Maybe when they're screening for the job, their first question is "how much do you love annoying people and making them get blamed for getting annoyed?"

I thanked my driver Rajesh and stepped outside. I wore my hair up tonight, with my full bangs covering my entire forehead up to the tip of my lashes. My hair was a little wavy so whenever I tie it up into a bun, it just looks messy, but the good kind of messy. Sometimes I love braiding it before tying it up, but tonight I prepared the least of all my Lumina Balls in the past years, because I didn't want people to remember me too much this night.

My gown was a simple seaweed maxi dress with detached off shoulder sleeves that somehow looked like a tube when I moved my arms. The sleeves were see-through, exposing my long arms and my favorite parts of my body--my neck and clavicle. A gold infinity pendant hangs around my neck, exposing my prominent shoulder blades. The dress was body hugging, but not too tight so I felt comfortable and at the same time, sexy. My heels were four inches high, making me 5'10". My mom was the same height as me, and I'm glad I didn't get my father's gigantic genes, because I seriously wouldn't want towering over everyone else. That makes me nauseous, just like tonight.

I didn't ask my designer to put eye-catching embroideries on my gown this year because I really didn't want to catch attention. As I told you, I wasn't even sure if I was going to this party until that silly old Tim mocked me in front of my entire clan. So I didn't spend much time thinking about this dress. My mother did, though, and she regretted every single second she spent helping the designer put the gown together because I had it all revised two weeks before. My mom told me that if I didn't go, I'd suffer on the internet. I believe her though, because that's really how netizens treat famous artists who get invited but decline to attend the most famous ball of the year.

The paparazzis gave way for me as the event marshalls shooed them to their line. I smiled at the marshalls and they continued to clear my way. I smiled and waved, left to right. All that I could hear were "Claude! Claude! Look here!" and I'd follow every voice and strike different poses. I said I hated paparazzis, I really do, but I guess we really are slaves to these people. After all, they're just working to please their bosses, while we were working to please people around the globe.

The carpeted walkway was long, or maybe it wasn't, but at least that was how I felt walking across it while waving and smiling and striking poses when deep inside I just wanted to sit and relax and hide from all these people.

Finally, I got inside the event. Every year, the Lumina Ball is held inside Chartreuse Palace. It is the largest and most expensive events place in the whole United States, and it is where the recently married Prince and Princess of Great Britain held their reception just three weekends ago. Everyone watched on their televisions, and all media companies, big or small, gathered around the area. Tonight was literally a deja vu of all that and more.

Chartreuse is really a beauty. There's not one argument on that. Once you enter the place, every single penny spent for the rental of a single night would blow your mind by how worth it it is. You might think you couldn't simply put elegant and beautiful that easy in one sentence, especially if what you're describing is seriously breathtaking, that no word could even capture it and give justice to how it really looks, especially in person. I grew up watching Chartreuse on television, but seeing it personally just one night every year really mesmerizes me, up until now.

The grand hall was finely lit by golden chandeliers that look more expensive than my house. Everywhere was a scene of stylish and sophisticated dresses and suits. Everywhere I looked, or even at the corner of my eyes, I saw flashes after flashes of bright cameras, with top models, famous pop stars, musicians, and celebrities strike poses after poses. I already saw three of my favorite Jennifer's tonight. I saw some work friends too, but the politest thing I did yet was smile and the longest conversation I had was when I bumped with Emma Roberts and complimented how sleek her brushed up hair was. I also said her dress was on fire and she thanked me for that. Then I went back to wandering the classic halls.

There were also refined paintings that hang from each wall, and they were usually abstract, but I'm pretty sure they cost fortunes. I stared at one specific painting. It was full of hues of blue and gray, but I was sensing a touch of clouds, and sea, and a fine little eagle. A familiar voice greeted me from behind and for a moment I felt like I wasn't alone.