[Monday, September 18, 2000 | New York Fashion Week - Day 5]
Karolína Kurková appeared next, impossibly tall even among models, wearing a double-breasted coat with bishop sleeves that added romance without sacrificing structure. The sleeves billowed as she moved, creating additional volume that somehow made her look even taller.
Miranda Kerr brought a younger, fresher energy in a pristine white suit with a plunging neckline adorned with layered chains, the jewellery acting as armour. There was something more approachable about Kerr's presence, less intimidating than the earlier models, but no less powerful.
Then Eleanor shifted again, introducing texture and whimsy to the line without losing the thread. Joan Smalls commanded the runway in a white cropped double-breasted blazer paired with textured white trousers, accessorised with a dramatic tulle bow headpiece and a pop of lime green at the waist. It was unexpected, playful even, considering the serious pieces that had preceded her, but still unmistakably remained powerful.
The combination of Smalls' rich brown skin, her athletic build, and the whimsical accessories created a statement. The neutrals deepened with the next series. A model in camel-and-beige combinations walked out, adding some warmer tones. Another in a black blazer with tan trousers. A full camel suit with a brown turtleneck underneath.
"This is extraordinarily cohesive," Maya said softly, and Xavier could hear the fashion enthusiast in her speak. His mother worked in the fragrance industry and understood how difficult it was to maintain a singular vision across dozens of ideas.
The show was building to something; Xavier and everyone could feel it in the music's crescendo, causing the audience to lean forward slightly in their seats as the pace slowed. The lights shifted—cooler now, more dramatic. A model emerged in a grey blazer with a black sheer top and cream skirt.
A model walked out wearing a grey blazer over a black mesh top, paired with a cream-colored skirt. The next model wore all black on top—a turtleneck—with the same cream skirt. The palette shifted to warmer neutrals—brown tweed—a full suit that looked expensive and understated.
Then, grey pinstripes, the classic Wall Street uniform, but cut for a woman's body. The models' expressions had shifted throughout the show—from severe to confident to almost playful, demonstrating the range of power, the many faces it could wear.
The models' faces had changed as the show progressed. The first ones had looked almost severe, intimidating. The middle ones are confident, self-assured. These last few before the finale seemed lighter, nearly playful. Different versions of the same power look.
The music built toward something bigger. The violins climbed higher and higher until the sound filled the entire tent. The lights went almost entirely black. Just one spotlight remained, aimed at the runway entrance. Nothing happened; the music kept building as people stopped breathing.
Then Kate Moss stepped into the light in a floor-length white fur coat that seemed to capture every photon in the tent. It was opulent, unapologetic, magnificent. The coat's volume was extraordinary, the fur pristine, worn over a white suit that was just visible underneath. The belt at the waist created an hourglass even in all that abundance. Moss's expression was absolutely serene—not smiling, not severe, just confident.
She owned the room as a single spotlight followed her, as small dots that resembled stars appeared on the runway floor. The audience erupted, and even Xavier found himself on his feet with everyone else; the applause was thunderous. Beside him, his mother had her hand pressed to her chest, her eyes bright with what might have been tears.
Zoe was clapping so hard her hands had to hurt, her face lit with pure joy. Moss reached the end of the runway, paused, creating a perfect moment of stillness that only she could make—then turned, the coat moving like a living thing, and retreated with the same unhurried confidence.
Eleanor wasn't done, though, and the music shifted to something triumphant and victorious. Carolyn Murphy reappeared in the ivory opening coat, followed by Naomi, Liya, Devon Aoki, and Natasha. The entire collection paraded out in sequence, each model reclaiming her look, reminding the audience of the journey they'd just taken.
It was like watching the show in reverse, each piece building back up to its full meaning—from bold architectural statements through grounded neutrals to that final explosion of uncompromising luxury. Song Hye-kyo reappeared in her cream turtleneck coat, and this time Xavier noticed Lee Jae-yung and some of his Korean partners three rows back, who had also attended the show. The cameras were flashing twice as much as they had during her first walk—people were paying attention now.
When Kate Moss emerged again in that white fur coat, the applause somehow got even louder. Then Eleanor herself walked out, positioning herself at the end of the line of models, and the applause transformed into a wave of respect and awe. She didn't smile, didn't wave, she stood there for a moment, acknowledging what she'd created, what these women wore, what they represented.
Then she gave a single, small bow—before the models began their final walk off, and Eleanor followed last. The music faded as the lights came up slowly, gently returning the audience to reality, officially ending the journey they had all been on.
~~~
[Eléanor after party | Four Seasons Seagram Building]
The after-party was held at The Four Seasons Restaurant, the iconic venue in the Seagram Building where power lunches turned into power celebrations. By the time the James family arrived, the Pool Room was already buzzing—models still in full makeup mingling with buyers clutching champagne flutes, fashion editors comparing notes, socialites who'd managed to secure invitations circulating through the crowd.
Eleanor stood near the centre of it all, having changed from her severe black show outfit into something softer—a cream silk blouse and wide-leg trousers that still commanded attention. She was in conversation with Anna Wintour when she spotted the James family approaching. Xavier carried a large, luxuriously embroidered box of pale ivory fabric with delicate botanical threadwork, while his mother, Maya, held a distinctive bottle wrapped in tissue paper. Zoe walked between them, her eyes wide as she tried not to stare at the models scattered throughout the room.
"Eleanor," Maya said warmly as they reached her. Anna Wintour gave a polite nod and excused herself.
"Maya, Xavier, Zoe." Eleanor's face softened genuinely. "Thank you for coming. Your presence means more than you know."
"Congratulations on tonight, that was a spectacular show," Xavier said, extending the embroidered box.
Eleanor took the box carefully, running her fingers over the intricate needlework, the stunning bouquet arrangement catching her attention. Cream roses, white lisianthus, delicate Queen Anne's lace, soft pink astilbe, and touches of greenery, all secured in a bed of moss. The flowers were fresh, pristine, and arranged with aesthetic detail that justified the hefty price tag.
"These are rooted—you can plant them." Maya smiled. "And this is from our vineyard. 1990 James Rosé. Best yield we've ever had. My Husband loved to gush over the 90 vintage—perfect—not too dry, not too sweet. Just right."
Eleanor took the bottle, studying the label with its elegant script and the James family crest. "Cassius always did have impeccable taste." She paused, meeting Xavier's eyes, then Zoe. "He would have been proud of the people you're both becoming, you know."
Xavier felt Zoe's hand slip into his, a brief squeeze. "Thank you, Eleanor. That means a lot."
"Well, then. This deserves to be opened." Eleanor gestured to a server. "Will you join me?"
"Actually," Xavier glanced around the room, "I need to find Serena first. Is she here?"
"Over there with Michael helping with some preliminary orders." She stated after scanning the room, spotting her daughter with a well-dressed elderly man in a blue suit.
Xavier excused himself, leaving his mother with Eleanor as he and Zoe navigated through the crowd. Conversations and laughter filled the space, champagne glasses catching the light. He found Serena and Michael on the other end of the room, deep in conversation with a rep from Galeries Lafayette.
They patiently waited for them to finish until they reached some sort of conclusion, and Michael took the rep to a nearby table set up for reservations. "Serena."
She turned, and her professional mask cracked into a tired but genuine smile. "Hey. You survived the chaos." Her eyes dropped to Zoe. "And you brought reinforcements. How are you doing, Zoe? Is this one giving you trouble? I can straighten him out for you."
"No, he's on his best behaviour. Mum keeps him in line." Zoe joked before pulling out the white rose and card they had brought. "Here, this is for you. That was a great first show. I can't wait to one day see one of your own creations."
"Aww sweetie, you're going to make me cry," she whined out, using her hand to air dry her eyes to stop the welling up tears. "Thank you for your support. I'll have to work doubly hard not to disappoint my number one supporter."
Watching his childhood friend get all emotional and pull his sister in a tight hug, Xavier's eyes twitched. "I see how it is, guess I'll keep supporting someone else with this." He pouted, pulling out a square-shaped burgundy-coloured box with the Patek Philippe logo from his breast pocket. "What a shame, but there are quite a few beautiful women here, and they do say I'm a Casanova, guess I'll live up to that name."
As he was in his own world, seemingly considering who to target, the box in his hand was snatched. "Xavier Isaiah James, don't you dare," Serena warned, clutching the box to her chest as if he might actually follow through on the threat. "You can't just dangle a gift in front of a girl and then take it back. That's cruel and unusual punishment."
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To Be Continued...