A Custom Suit

The black Audi sedan slowly came to a halt. The driver swiftly stepped out and courteously opened the door. Renly stepped out, gazing around at the street scene: red brick walls, tall oak trees, lush ivy. The air carried a serene atmosphere, devoid of the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. Parked along the street were inconspicuous black, silver, and gray vehicles, which to the untrained eye might seem ordinary, but experts could discern them as custom-made, markedly different from standard models.

With just a glance, Renly knew: this was the Upper East Side.

When it comes to shopping centers in New York, Fifth Avenue undoubtedly reigns as the renowned luxury destination. Even British aristocrats are willing to fly over during the discount season for a spree. However, this is merely a result of advertising campaigns by luxury brands and Fifth Avenue itself.

Undoubtedly, Fifth Avenue gathers the world's top luxury brands, attracting many celebrities for shopping. However, true high-end private stores cannot be found on Fifth Avenue. Instead, they are hidden in treasure troves within the offbeat lanes of Greenwich Village. These places are not accessible to the general public; one needs special connections, professional business cards, or recommendations from insiders. This exclusivity allows them to offer high-end services discreetly, away from public eyes.

Although Renly hadn't visited these high-end private custom stores since arriving in New York, it didn't mean he was unaware of them. The information about top private tailors circulated widely in high society. However, Renly was unaware that there was one here in the Upper East Side.

Ordinarily, setting up a storefront in the Upper East Side would be too ostentatious, clearly targeting the affluent upper class in the area. It seemed as if they were eager to let people know that this was a prestigious and tasteful private custom store. For the proud and aloof senior tailors—or rather, for the reserved and haughty British, it was too commercial, too much about fame and profit, and too direct.

Even if it was hidden within a private courtyard.

"This time is rather urgent, and there's not much time for further arrangements. But this designer has been gaining quite a reputation over the past two years and is trustworthy," Andy explained briefly, his admiration evident in his concise words. Andy glanced at Renly, who was dressed simply in a T-shirt and jeans. "Let's suit up!"

Behind a stretch of ivy, a carved iron gate could be vaguely seen, with a bronze doorbell button next to it, clearly mimicking the design of a high-end British residence. After pressing the doorbell, a voice came through the intercom at the entrance, "Who is it?"

"Andy Rogers."

The gate promptly opened automatically. Pushing the iron gate, there was another heavy wooden door inside. Upon entering, a spacious and bright space greeted them. In the center was a large open area. Near the French windows on the left side was a dark brown sofa. Directly opposite, across the open space, was a full-length dressing mirror. Beside it was a space for changing clothes. At the moment, the off-white curtains were fully open, revealing a dressing table inside, with pins, measuring tapes, scissors, and other small tools neatly arranged.

The predominantly warm-toned space design was both generous and modern, exuding a refreshing atmosphere. However, Renly didn't quite like it because it didn't match the style of the house. It was obvious that the house was of Victorian retro style, as were the exterior walls and the door. But the interior was modern?

Typical American choice.

"Mr. Rogers, Mr. Hall." A tall and slender woman approached them, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders. She wore a white silk shirt paired with a high-waisted black pencil skirt and a pair of royal blue pointed high heels. Neatly dressed yet not overly revealing, her delicate figure was on display. Her warm smile was not overly flattering but maintained an affable demeanor.

This was a typical pattern of American commercial sales—a blonde beauty dressed sensibly yet not too revealingly to put customers in a good mood. If it were a high-end British private custom, the receptionist's attire would be entirely different, mostly consisting of men or older individuals. Even if young women were employed, they would be dressed formally.

With just a brief glance, Renly already had a good idea about this store. Growing up with a noble education, he was well aware of these details. Turning his head, he noticed Andy's faint smile, his relaxed demeanor indicating his satisfaction.

"Melvin is upstairs taking an important call. He'll be down shortly. Please wait," the blonde woman said with a smile. "Coffee or tea?"

"Hot milk, no sugar, and two small biscuits on the side," Renly replied politely, standing to the side. Although he had numerous complaints internally, he had gradually adapted to the business style here in America, which blended commercialism with refined customs. He believed Andy had chosen this place because of its reputation.

The blonde woman was somewhat surprised, evidently not expecting such an unconventional request from Renly. If she wasn't mistaken, the visitor today was just an insignificant nobody. He seemed clueless—much like his request for milk, which sounded like it came from some hick from New Jersey. Yet his composed demeanor, standing casually with hands relaxed at his sides, exuded a natural grace and elegance, making her somewhat flustered.

"That's quite something," she quipped with a slight curl of her lips, a hint of disdain flashing in her eyes, though she concealed it well, not letting her emotions show. "No problem." She then turned to Andy. "Coffee, please bring the sugar bowl over as well." Nodding to indicate her understanding, she added, "Please wait."

Heading upstairs, the blonde woman saw Melvin Blades sitting with his legs crossed, reading the newspaper. Obviously, he wasn't on an important call or doing anything crucial.

A stylist in Hollywood held a unique position. They weren't designers or tailors but had their own unique insights into fashion and styling. However, their professional abilities were hard to gauge. Their job was peculiar: to devise styles for celebrities. Not everyone had a sense of fashion; many celebrities might privately prefer plain tank tops, checkered boxers, and flip-flops. Moreover, the fashion taste in the American Midwest was often subject to ridicule, necessitating the intervention of stylists.

The appearance of any celebrity at a public event was entirely the stylist's responsibility, from hairstyle to clothing selection, makeup to jewelry coordination. They would offer comprehensive suggestions, and once the stars stepped under the spotlight, they would face the world's scrutiny. This applied not only to red carpets or press conferences but also to everyday wear.

The profession of a stylist gradually shifted from behind the scenes to the forefront during the rise of street photography. Whenever a celebrity stepped onto the streets or appeared at an airport, their fashion choices garnered significant attention. This meant that celebrities' wardrobes were subjected to public scrutiny from all angles, a phenomenon unimaginable twenty years ago. This could be considered a product of the Internet age.

Stylists would regularly update celebrity wardrobes, typically three to four times per season. The celebrities would select and wear the outfits suggested by the stylist, take photos for confirmation, and then head out.

For example, Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez were two of the most famous examples in the entertainment industry.

In the early stages of her career, Taylor Swift maintained a princess-like image, sweet and charming but lacking distinctiveness. However, after changing stylists, she adopted a sleek urban style, still sweet but not overly so, which skyrocketed her popularity in street fashion, earning her the title of a fashion icon. Selena Gomez underwent a similar transformation. Starting as a Disney child star, her career initially revolved around sweet, lively, youthful styles. However, facing a transition bottleneck in adulthood, she enlisted a professional stylist, transitioning into a mature urban style that exuded confidence and sophistication, skyrocketing her career and becoming the queen of street photography on the Internet.

It wasn't an exaggeration to say that a top stylist could completely transform a celebrity's image, comparable to plastic surgery. Conversely, a mediocre stylist could cause a celebrity to fade into obscurity overnight.

However, fashion trends changed every year, every day, and fashion styles had to be adjusted according to each person's characteristics and preferences. Therefore, there was no accurate benchmark to measure the ability of a stylist. The only criterion was: who did they style for, and how effective was it?

Therefore, celebrities and stylists needed to choose each other carefully.

At thirty-five years old, Melvin had previously been a fashion buyer, navigating the four major fashion weeks and various fashion circles. However, the competition in the buying market was too fierce. Two years ago, he began to transition into a stylist. He had worked with Emma Roberts, Jesse Eisenberg, and others, but his achievements were limited. His most famous case was selecting Anne Hathaway's gown for the eighty-first Academy Awards, which received rave reviews. After that, his career began to gain momentum.

Currently, Melvin had long-term agreements with several actors, including Megan Fox, Paul Rudd, and Vanessa Hudgens. He had firmly established himself in the stylist industry. However, he lacked a breakthrough, a platform to showcase his true talents and truly ascend to the ranks of top stylists.

So, he was choosing, waiting, watching, searching. Agreeing to Andy's request to style an unknown newcomer was partly for the sake of the Emmy Awards and partly to search for potential talents—otherwise, he wouldn't have taken on such a job at this point.

Melvin set down the newspaper and looked at the blonde woman before noticing her disappointment as she shook her head. "Looks like another nobody from the countryside with no potential."