The number 13

One

The number 13

I watched Taylor look down at the hundreds of fans that stood waiting down the hotel for her with my Canon EF-S 18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 IS STM.

"Aren't they the most adorable?" She looked away from the window into the camera lens for just a second before turning to  Andrea: her mother, who was busy wiping Meredith's and Olivia's mess off the hotel rug with a frown on her face.

"The cats?" Andrea asked, looking up at the fluffy animals who couldn't be bothered by Andrea's labor as the nibbled treats on Taylor's laps.

Taylor snorted and looked from the furry fellows on her laps to her frowning mother. "Mum, you know you do not have to do that right? I'm sure the hotel folks will sort it out." She said with the sweetest yet saddest smile we were already used to seeing on her.

"I know, but this rug is too beautiful to be ruined." Andrea sniffed before dabbing on the stain with what looked like a bucketful of bleach.

Something about Andrea's words denoted that she wasn't referring to the rug at all, I felt it, and from the sad expression on Taylor's face I could tell that she also felt it too.

"Mum,". Taylor said, rising from the seat beside the tinted window, "it's okay. The rug is fine...the rug will be fine... I'll be fine."

I took my camera way from both women as tears gathered around my eyes.

…

I was chosen 3 months ago to film a life documentary on Netflix for Taylor Swift and I'd be lying if I said there's any other thing I'd rather spend the rest of my life doing.

The first day I met Taylor, she told me how nice she thought my leggings was and made me promise to get her one just like mine; I told myself she was only being nice, until 2 days later when she caught me filming her and asked me to pause, only to mention the leggings. I laughed so hard that day it almost turned to tears; not only did I laugh at the funny and cool way in which she pleaded for it, but at the fact that she remembered my name. I had that leggings delivered to her that evening. She wore it the next day.

That was the beginning of our friendship. She soon began to seek my opinion and validation for everything and nothing at all. One time she wrote a lyric down with a sharpie on her arms and she showed them to me with the brightest smile on her face.

"Isn't this the coolest?" She giggled and nodded like a little girl and I remember smiling as I told her how cool it was. That lyric didn't ever blossom into a song because that was the same day she got the call and broke down for the first time in front of me.

…

"You can't cry, Tay, you'll ruin your makeup." Lorrie Turk: Taylor's longtime makeup artist begged as she moved her Fanny pack of makeup behind and kneeled alongside mother and daughter.

'Of course she can!' I thought to myself as I zoomed in on the three women.

"She's right, Taylor. Your makeup took hours." Andrea smiled before planting a small kiss on her daughter's forehead. "You look amazing."

"You think so?" Taylor smiled. "I think this might just go on to be more iconic than my reputation." She joked as she rose to her feet and tried to lighten up the mood by making some awkward but adorable dance moves in front of the mirror. She caught my camera and blew me a little kiss. I caught it subtly.

"Hey, Connie! What do you think about this look? Too dark?"

I blushed and shrugged. "Different. I think it's different and the good lord knows we need a little difference in 2016." I laughed and watched as she struggled not to ruin her makeup with laughter as well.

"I like that, Connie. Might just put it on a track." She winked and gave me the sign to stop recording. She needed to dress up now.

"What are the options?" Andrea asked, taking a seat with a cold glass of lemonade in her hand as she watched the celebrity stylist order her numerous assistants around. Each one of them had a wheeled rack.

"Rack 1 is a Saint Laurent Mesh metallic dress. This was inspired by her Vogue cover earlier...on Rack 2 we've got..." she went on and on, displaying numerous expensive and perfectly hand-sewn luxurious pieces until she got to the thirteenth rack and paused to open it.

"Whatever is in there, I'm wearing." Taylor announced with so much authority in her voice that no one dared question. Andrea did anyway.

"Don't you want to see it before jumping to sudden conclusions, honey?" Andrea asked with concern written all over her face.

"It's the number thirteen mum, nothing can go wrong," Taylor replied. She was accessing the shoe rack by now.

"Can I see it?" Andrea ignored Taylor's reply and turned to the stylist.

"Uhm...sure...why not?" the petite woman stumbled on her words, looking from mother to daughter for a minute before finally ordering an assistant to bring out the outfit from rack 13. "It's a custom-made sequenced cut-out dress specially designed for Taylor by the Louis Vuitton atelier. I think it's the perfect dress for this look," she said, gesturing at Taylor's makeup. "Besides, with a very statemental legwear, we should be on theme for the Gala.

I watched as Taylor gushed at the beautiful outfit.

"What's that word again, Connie?" Taylor asked, touching her cheeks in excitement.

"Different," I whispered as I was in awe of the metallic goodness.

"Yes! Different. They won't see this coming." Taylor smiled excitedly as she turned to her mother who still had her eyes fixed on the outfit. "Mum?"

"I love it. We can never go wrong with the number 13 can we?" Andrea gushed as she moved closer to the dress with tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "I love it." she repeated.

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