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November 6, 2010
It was unseasonably warm for early November. The sidewalk was crowded with people milling about, and a long line snaked around a hot pretzel vendor, filling the air with the unmistakable toasted, bready fragrance that belonged only to pretzels.
Sonia hurried to the museum steps, worried that she was late. I’m only a volunteer, it’s not like they can fire me. That thought bolstered her courage as she picked her way around people that were clogging the sidewalk, gawking at the museum and the activity that surrounded the building.
The email had directed her to check in at the turquoise tent on the main sidewalk to get her assignment for the day. Sonia waited in line with others who were checking in as well; everyone was talking in excited tones. At last Sonia was in front of the person in charge, and she could feel a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.
The tall, thin woman, dressed head to toe in cream, looked at her and startled. “You have a red ‘L’.”
Sonia looked dumbly down where she had pinned her symbol. “Yes, that’s what was emailed to me.”
The woman pursed her lips and looked Sonia over head to toe. Sonia had selected and discarded 14 outfits before settling on this one. Comfortable flats because heels were becoming too dangerous to wear, especially somewhere she wasn’t familiar with the terrain and had no idea what she would be asked to do. She wore dark purple pants that tied at the waist and flared at her ankles. Sonia thought the flowing, flared fabric might help disguise her shoes; she wasn’t certain flats were fashionable enough. On top, she wore a simple cream-colored blouse and tied a hand painted silk scarf at her neck. The red L fluttered in the breeze at her waist.
“Lawrance was very interested in your application, I’ll have you know. He only sent out two red Ls.”
“What does the color mean?”
“It’s his way of saying this is a person worth watching. He thought it very brave of you to enter fashion design with your... limitations.”
Sonia blinked. She never thought her blindness would offer her any advantages. “Well, I’m not yet...”
The woman cut her off before Sonia could explain any further. “I’m Rachel, the PR Coordinator. Welcome to my circus. Take this walkie talkie and go to the yellow tent, the next level up. There you will help me relay information to the runners.”
Sonia’s mouth went dry, and she felt her heart begin to race. “I’m helping you? But aren’t you in charge of, like, everything?”
“Listen, sweetheart, I call the shots, and all you have to do is yell out my orders. Don’t worry, we’ve got these color-coded badges for a reason. I’ve got this all orchestrated, follow my directions and it will all go smoothly. I’ve got another helper like you who is working on the other side of the stairs.”
She handed Sonia a yellow walkie talkie. “Press the big button on the side to talk to me. You probably won’t need to, though. Just yell out what color needs to do up in that tent. Got it?”
Sonia carried the walkie talkie, holding it in front of her like a dangerous snake or an explosive that might detonate. Sonia left the safety of Rachel’s tent and peered up the stairs, looking for the yellow tent. She felt a sigh of relief rush out of her when she quickly spotted it. She walked over to the far edge of the stairs and put her hand on the rough concrete barrier. She would use this like a banister to help her walk up the steps to where the yellow tent was placed.
Sonia reached the first landing when two men yelled, “Coming through!” She stopped so they could go around her. She watched in horror as they stopped at the next landing and set up a blue tent. More people filed past her carrying outfits that they carried into the tent. Her view of the yellow tent was now completely blocked. And worse, she realized there were cables which had been on top of the concrete barrier, now snaking down the concrete wall and running up the stairs. Sonia realized the cables must be running power to the tents that were still above her.
Sonia’s lungs were trapped in a vise, and her heart beat wildly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I don’t think there is anyone here I can ask for help right now. Everyone is too busy getting set up. Sonia kept her right hand on the wall, taking comfort in its rough texture that guided her way. She took careful steps, sliding her foot along the stairs. She slowly made her way up to the blue tent.
Sonia put her right hand on the surface of the blue tent. The fabric felt slippery under her sweaty hand. With her hand on the tent, she walked toward the center of the stairs until she felt the edge of the fabric flapping under her hand. Sonia put her hand on the support pole behind it and stepped up onto the landing. She could make out the yellow tent on the next landing. Sonia used the back side of the blue tent to guide her back to the concrete barrier. She followed the rough low wall to the next landing.
Someone came over and offered her a hand to step up onto the landing and into the tent. “You must be Rachel’s mouth,” said the kind stranger, leaving Sonia both reassured that someone was there to help her, and confused.
“Huh?”
“You’ve got the walkie talkie, that makes you Rachel’s mouth. Hi, I’m Deb. I’m on the design team, and regretting every second of agreeing with Lawrence that this would be a great idea and a fantastic celebration of Philadelphia. Walk with me while I get things in place.”
Deb was a flurry of motion while she continued talking to Sonia. She bustled around the yellow tent, picking up packets of paper, handing them out and occasionally asking questions of people walking past. Sonia stumbled uncomfortably behind her, worried she would fall flat on her face at any minute, but glad she went with the flats.
“We’ve got the models, of course. But we also have dancers and outfit changes happening in those tents over there.” Deb raised and arm to point, but Sonia didn’t catch what she was pointing at. “We’ve got music. Live, not pre-recorded stuff, because Lawrence just had to be extra.”
Deb paused talking to Sonia to yell, “Barry, get those outfits out of the van and into the green tent!” Deb shook her head and muttered, “It’s not like you haven’t already helped before.”
“We’ve got the Philadelphia Harmonic and a local rock band, Whirling Dhervish. Lawrence wanted bigger names, but...”
Deb paused again to confer with someone over a missing dancer. Then she turned back to add, “Getting this all coordinated to be videoed has been a nightmare. It’s going live to a world-wide audience in less than one hour.”
“Excuse me, did you say world-wide?”
“Didn’t you know? This whole event is being live streamed on Instagram, YouTube, and Facebook. If you didn’t hear about it, Rachel didn’t do enough PR.”
Sonia felt her feet grow roots that held her fast to her spot. Although Deb took a few steps away and then waved at her to follow, her feet would simply not move when she told them to. Sonia was overwhelmed with all the details that went into this event. How does anyone plan or keep track of all of this?
“Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
Sonia shook her head to try and snap herself out of the trance that had fallen over her. She took one deep breath and then told Deb, “I’m ready. I was a little in shock, there, but I’m good now.”
Deb chewed on her lower lip. “I’m not trying to pressure you, but you do kinda have an important role. I mean, I don’t think it’s hard, but it is important.”
“Right, right, I’m good.” Sonia gave Deb her best smile, which was watery at best, but Deb shrugged it off and led Sonia to the table where she would be working.
“Everything you need is right here. Chair for you to sit in, clipboard containing all of Rachel’s plans, bottle of water, here’s a screen that shows what’s being broadcast, and uh, there’s a port-a-potty over to your right in the blue tent. We wanted to have them available, but the city wouldn’t let us just have them out in the open. So, we just got more tents. How does it look, approaching from the street and seeing all the tents?”
“It’s so bright and festive. It makes you wonder what is going on, because I’ve never seen anything like it.” Not that I could see much of it at all.
“Perfect.” Deb propped her fists on her hips and let a loud breath escape her lips. She looked around, chewing her lip. As Sonia stood waiting beside her, the scent of strawberries wafted from Deb. In this tiny moment of calm, Sonia picked up many scents: hair spray, nail polish, coffee, many varieties of perfume, and an undercurrent of sweat. The people that raced in and out of the tent all thrummed with energy and nervousness. At least I’m not the only nervous one.
Sonia settled in and managed to loosen the grip she had on the walkie talkie, setting it on the table. She picked up the packet labeled “Event Plans” and thumbed through it to see if there was anything she could make out. Unfortunately, the font was far too small for her to make anything out. That caused her stomach to start churning again. She took a sip of water to try and calm her nerves. Then she repeated to herself, “I just repeat what Rachel says, I just repeat what Rachel says.” Reminding herself that her role was just to be a mouth calmed Sonia.
The screen that Deb indicated would show the broadcast was currently showing a countdown with bubbles dancing up all around the numbers. Sonia leaned forward to get a better look at the timer on the screen. It got to 15:00 and began to flash, which set Sonia’s heart racing again. Her walkie talkie crackled to life and Rachel said, “Get models and dancers in place.” Sonia swallowed hard and then yelled, “Models and dancers in place.”
Soon everyone was in place: musicians, models, dancers, camera men. The steps were swarming with people who were a part of this fashion extravaganza and tents dotted each landing and the sidewalk below. Once everything started, action swirled around her, and Sonia bellowed out everything she heard Rachel say over the walkie talkie. The orchestra played as the models and dancers milled around on the steps. I can’t make any sense of what is going on.
As the show progressed, Sonia finally caught on to what was happening. Local sculptors had been invited to bring their artwork and place it on the landings of the steps. Lawrence’s models and dancers would “view” the art from all sides, a camera man following their every move. Soon, the art wasn’t what was being observed any more, but the clothing was. Instead of circling the art, the dancers were all now circling the models and viewing them. What a clever thing to do!
The music changed from classical to the heavy rock beat of Whirling Dervish. All of the dancers wore grey sweats and sneakers, so the models clearly stood out in their bright colors. Even I can see who to pay attention to! At the very end, models and dancers raced together to the bottom of the steps, all donned red baseball caps with Lawrence’s signature curly L in giant gold script. Ingenious having everyone wearing his logo. I hope I’m that clever with what I plan in the future.
The orchestra then joined the band in playing the theme to Rocky, and all the dancers and models raced up the stairs, grabbing what looked like a small tube from helpers who passed them out of the tents. Sonia leaned forward to get a better view of the group racing up the stairs that was broadcast on the screen. Once at the top, the tubes were revealed to be filled with red confetti and jettisoned into the air as the last note played. Sonia was impressed with how the dancing and the music helped to tell a story about the clothing.
Rachel appeared at Sonia’s elbow. “See? That was no ordinary runway show. That’s the kind of event Lawrence wants: loud, colorful, local, and uniquely his own.” Rachel turned and walked to the edge of the tent and watched the action live.
All eyes were on the dancers and models as the fashion show wound to a close. A final song was playing, and the dancers all disappeared into tents while the models sauntered back down the steps. While all eyes were on this, a woman jumped out of the crowd down at street level, waving a sign that read “Lawrence is a fraud” and chanting those exact words. She tried to get in front of the camera men still broadcasting the event. Sonia spoke sharply into her walkie talkie, “There is a woman down at street level yelling and holding up a sign.”
A man in a uniform popped out of a tent on the lower level and quickly whisked the shouting woman away.
“I wondered if she would show. She crashed the last show. I made sure the tech crew had other footage to air if she popped up. She probably only got on air for a second, if that, thanks to you.” Rachel’s eyes glowed with pride and defiance.
On the way home, Sonia was lost in thought about the events of the day that swirled in her mind like a vibrant tapestry. Rachel’s mastery of the event through her technology left Sonia daydreaming, wondering what technology she could use in her life. Maybe technology could make my life a bit easier, even a bit more fun? But the best part of the day was getting praised by Rachel! Sonia reveled in the praise Rachel gave her and felt pride over her actions.