#from first moving to los angeles in 2012 and having a preconceived notion of it

[daddy-long-legssss]

Alex Turner on living in Los Angeles in 2013 and 2018

"Someone told me a thing about LA that’s really stuck with me: ‘You sit by your swimming pool and fall asleep with your Pina Colada and then you wake up and you’re 50 years old!’ We’ll have to wait and see but I don’t think that’s going to happen to me." – Alex Turner on living in Los Angeles in 2013 [x]

"This is where my machines and my piano are. That's what keeps me there for now. I had not considered staying there for so long. But I guess I fell asleep next to the pool, a cocktail in my hand, and I woke up five years later (laughs) ... At first I came to California because I needed to change my life, reinventing myself, I felt that I disappeared ... I got used to the comfort, to the habits, it was necessary to change the setting." – Alex Turner on living in Los Angeles in 2018 [x]

[celestialmazer]

Julie Mehretu, Untitled 2, 1999. Private collection. Courtesy of White Cube. © Julie Mehretu

Julie Mehretu, Hineni (E. 3:4), 2018. Centre Pompidou, Paris, Musée national d’art moderne/Centre de création industrielle; gift of George Economou, 2019. © Julie Mehretu. Photography:Tom Powel Imaging

Julie Mehretu, Mind-Wind Field Drawings (quarantine studio, d.h.) #1, 2019-2020. Private collection, courtesy Marian Goodman Gallery New York/Paris. © Julie Mehretu. Photography courtesy Marian Goodman Gallery

Julie Mehretu, Mogamma (A Painting in Four Parts) Part 1, 2012. Guggenheim Abu Dhabi. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: White Cube, Ben Westoby

Julie Mehretu, Conjured Parts (eye), Ferguson, 2016. The Broad Art Foundation, Los Angeles. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: Cathy Carver

Julie Mehretu, Migration Direction Map (large), 1996. Private collection. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: Tom Powel Imaging

At home with artist Julie Mehretu

CAMILLE OKHIO - 25 MAR 2021

Julie Mehretu speaks with the joy and conviction of someone who has had the freedom to investigate all their interests. Curiosity has led her to the myriad topics, objects and moments that inform her work, among them cartography, archaeology, the birth of civilisation and mycology. Since the 1990s, her practice has expanded outwardly in all directions like a spider web. A lack of understanding and preconceived notions among reviewers have often led to her work being flattened – simplified so that it is easily digestible – but in reality, her work is far from a simplistic investigation of any one topic. It encompasses multitudes.

The artist’s recent paintings are mostly large scale, but her early works on paper (often created with multiple layers – one sheet of Mylar on top of another) are as small as a six-inch square. The works often comprise innumerable minuscule markings – tremendous force and knowledge communicated through delicate inkings and streaks. Their layers reveal, rather than obfuscate. And though Mehretu’s creative process springs from a desire to understand herself better, the work itself is in no way autobiographical. 

Born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, on the tails of a continental rejection of colonialism, and raised there, then in Michigan, Mehretu has a flexible and full-hearted understanding of home. It is not one physical place, but many, all holding equal importance. On 25 March, Mehretu will present her first major retrospective at the Whitney Museum of American Art, with works spanning 1996 to 2019. The institution is an important one for Mehretu, as it played host to several pivotal shows in her youth.

Her exhibition has served as an impetus for Mehretu to look back at her already prolific career, observing and organising the thoughts, questions and answers she has put forth for over two decades. The six years it took to bring this exhibition together proved an incredibly valuable time of reflection, fatefully dovetailing with a year of quarantine. 

Wallpaper*: Where are you as we speak?

Julie Mehretu: I’m in my studio on 26th Street, right on the West Side Highway. I’ve worked here for 11 years.

W*: Are there any artists, writers or thinkers that have had a meaningful impact on you?

JM: I don’t know how to answer that because there are literally so many! It’s constantly changing. Right now, Kara Walker, David Hammons, William Pope.L, and younger artists like Jason Moran (who has made amazing work around abstraction). There are so many artists that have been informative and important to me: Frank Bowling, Jack Whitten, Caravaggio.

I also look at a lot of prehistoric work, from as far back as 60,000 years ago, as well as cave paintings from 6th century China and early prehistoric drawings in the caves of Australia. 

W*: What’s the most interesting thing you have read, watched or listened to recently?

JM: For the last few weeks I’ve been immersed in Steve McQueen films. I’ve been bingeing on lovers rock music. And a TV show that really moved me was [Michaela Cole’s] I May Destroy You. It’s difficult, but it was really well done and powerful. 

Ocean Vuong’s novel On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous is amazing. The Mushroom at the End of the World by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing is a really incredible book too – she studies this mushroom that became a delicacy in Japan in the 7th century. It started growing in deforested areas – it’s in these places destroyed by human beings that these mushrooms survive. [I find it interesting] that this mushroom grows on the edge of precarity and destruction. Like with Black folks, there is a constant aspect of insisting on yourself and reinventing yourself in the midst of constant effort of destruction. 

W*: What was the first piece of art you remember seeing? How did you feel about it?

JM: One of the first times I remember being moved by a work of art was looking through my mother’s Rembrandt book. We brought so few things back from Ethiopia and that was one of them. [Particularly] Rembrandt’s The Sacrifice of Isaac. That story is so intense. I was so moved by the light and the skin and the way the paint made light and skin. 

W*: Do you travel? If so, what does travel afford you, and what have you missed about it during Covid-19?

JM: I travel a lot, but I haven’t travelled this year. There has been this amazing sense of suspension and a pause in that. I miss travelling, but going to look at art, watching films, reading novels and listening to music is the way I travel now. For instance, I’ve been listening to Afro-Peruvian music and now I want to go to Peru.

Before I know it we will be back in this fast-paced, zooming-around environment – there is something I want to savour by staying here, now, in this time and absorbing as much as I can.

W*: You are said to have a vast collection of objects and images. Walk me through your collection – what areas, materials, makers and things have the largest presence and why?

JM: When you enter our home there is this long hallway. Framed along the wall we have around 20 fluorescent Daniel Joseph Martinez block-printed posters he made with words – almost poems. Our kids grew up reading those. One says ‘Sometimes I can’t breathe’ and another one says ‘Don’t work’, while some are really long.

We also have a great Paul Pfeiffer photograph of one from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse series. We have a group of Richard Tuttle etchings right over our dining table. We have an amazing David Hammons body print as well, and my kids’ work is all over the house.

W*: As the daughter of immigrants and an immigrant yourself – how do you conceptualise home and how do you create it?

JM: There were a lot of times I felt very transient – as a student and a young adult, going in and out of school and residency programmes. It always came back to music and food. There are certain flavours, foods, music, smells that you take wherever you go. Also as a mother, I’m building a home for my children. Home becomes something else because of them. They are the core of home now. 

W* How has motherhood affected your practice?

JM: I became much more productive when I had kids for several reasons – one is that I felt a lot of pressure to make [work] in the time I wasn’t with them, which of course is unsustainable. A large part of making is not making – thinking and searching. 

When I got to work I could get into it much more quickly. Kids grow and change so fast, you feel time is passing so you need to use it. I wasn’t going to stop working, that’s for sure. All women who are pushing in their lives make that choice. 

W*: What is your favourite myth and why does it hold importance for you?

JM: Right now I’m reading Greek myths to my ten-year-old. We’ve read them before, but he wanted to read them again. I still read to him at night even though he’s a voracious reader himself.

The myths I remember the most are myths I’ve come across in visual works. Titian’s Diana and Actaeon – I know that myth so well because of his painting. Bernini’s mesmerising sculpture of Apollo and Daphne I saw in Rome, where her body becomes a tree. The leaves are so delicately carved into the marble, it’s a work of incredible beauty. I’ve been considering this deconstructionist approach to mythology. Storytelling becomes this place to interrogate propositions, which is what I think mythology does.

W*: Have you experienced a flattening of your work?

JM: I’m always concerned with flattening and pigeonholing. That is something that happens to artists like us all the time. When I first was working and showing there was a bit of that happening with my work. It was put into the space of cartography or an architectural analysis of it. It was said to be autobiographical work.

The art world tries to consume. There is this desire to flatten and the desire for Black artists to be a reflection of their experience. I don’t think any artist is like that at all. In reality, none of us are flat. We all contain multitudes and are complicated – that has always been the core of the Black radical tradition.

[brutcllysoft]

4th of july ft. @becamedcath

setting: a boutique in LA, july 2015

ROWAN

Rowan knows she’s in trouble. In fact, trouble doesn’t even feel like a big enough word to describe the situation she’s found herself in. Against all of the odds and all of her preconceived notions, she finds herself drawn to Andy. The last few months have been nothing short of bizarre and as much as she’d hated to admit it back in May, after she got to know Andy a little better he isn’t that bad. He isn’t what she’d thought he was --- it’d taken a little time for them to get used to each other, for her to begin to chip away at the walls that surrounded him and get to see glimpses of who he really is, not the image that’s portrayed to the media. He’s sweet, in the biggest twist of events --- grown to be nice to her now that they don’t want to kill each other, he makes her laugh, and he keeps her on her toes which she loves. Her stomach twists into knots at the thought and she knows she’s in trouble because she’s starting to kind of think of him as her boyfriend and not her business partner. She’s fucked. 

And even more so because it’s like she never knows where they really stand anymore. Sometimes she thinks she’ll catch his eye and see something --- like maybe he’s having the same thoughts she is, like he wants to push things further and say fuck the contract but then one of them will blink and they’re back to shy glances and sheepish smiles over fret boards and sheet music. They’re in California this week, the label holding 4th of July party at their Los Angeles location. The hotel they’ve been put up in is nice enough, and though the party doesn’t officially start for another few hours, Rowan’s stylist and his team have been in her room since noon, working their magic. She thinks she looks fine. Her hair and make up aren’t a problem, though they rarely are aside from that few months back in 2012 that her stylist thought 2001 Justin Timberlake curls should be brought back. She’s not exactly fond of the dress, though, a little disappointed that they’ve put her in pink yet again despite the fact that she’s trying to break out of the Bumpkin Barbie prototype. But it’d been the best out of all the options she had been presented with and she doesn’t look bad. Just different than how she’d like. But her thoughts are stolen from her when there’s a knock on her hotel room, a giddy feeling filling her when she knows it’s Andy --- and following quickly after is guilt because she shouldn’t be feeling that. She swallows it back though, opening the door.

“Hey---” she can’t stop her smile from falling when she catches sight of him. Not because he looks bad --- he always looks good, she’s come to realize, and she kind of hates him for it. A few weeks ago they’d taken a red eye to New York City and he’d looked as handsome as ever while she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed (which, to be fair, she had). However, his choice of clothes is cause for concern. She knows he’s got an image to uphold but the party has a strict dress code for cocktail attire and she doesn’t think his ripped jeans and leather jacket are really going to make the cut, causing her to let out a quiet breath. “Andy,” his name comes out in a slight whine, the stress evident in her. It’s not that she really cares what he dresses like because honestly, she doesn’t. But the party is a good opportunity for both of them to rub elbows with new people and the last thing she wants is for the two of them to end up on TMZ  for the wardrobe faux paux. “Please tell me you’re kidding and you’ve got something you’re going to change into before we leave. Didn’t Chris tell you about the dress code?

ANDY

The last thing Andy had ever expected to happen to him was to fall for Rowan Fisher. She’s not his type, she’s someone he would scoff at if they hadn’t been thrown into this PR stunt together. And yet, in the last four months, they’d become friends, actually managing to find common ground and create a relationship with one another that didn’t begin and end with snide comments. He finds himself looking forward to each time they’re together, wanting to soak up every minute that they have. He had assumed she was just what the media portrayed her as, but as they spent more and more time together -- The truth became more apparent: They’re more alike than he thought. It had been enjoyable when they reached a friendship, but now… He couldn’t look at her without knots forming in his stomach, without taking a second look in the mirror to fix his hair. The word crush isn’t what he would call it, mostly because he’s scared to admit to something like that, but there’s no denying just what it is. Andy keeps the thought to himself, playing it cool whenever they’re together, knowing that if he lets his own feelings seep into this, it could fuck up their contract -- And he’s not about to have Rowan Fisher’s legal team come after him for a crush.They’re getting ready for some bullshit party the label is putting on for the holiday, all about networking and setting off fireworks or some shit. Andy’s not entirely sure, but his first single had come out a week prior, and already shot him to the top of the charts -- So tonight was immensely important, and they had to be on their A-game, even if they were going to be stuck with industry snobs. At least there was an open bar.

He knows Rowan is probably being held hostage by her hair and make up team, who are surely forcing her to dress like a neon puff pastry. Mostly it was just an excuse to see her before they have to go and put on smiling faces for Greg Sullivan and his band of merry misfits. He spends five minutes standing in the mirror before leaving his dressing room, fixing and then touseling his hair multiple times, rehearsing what to say as his excuse. It’s odd to be in the position -- He can’t think of the last time he had a genuine crush on someone. Bethany had been… a different case. His relationship with her was built on sex, coke, and causing a scene in the hotel bar -- At the end of the day, they didn’t really like each other, just the adrenaline high they could achieve together. For lack of a better term, Rowan is different. She’s good and wholesome, with a heart the size of a small country -- It’s something Andy’s come to really admire about her, the way she opens her heart to people in her life, whether it be through her everyday life or her music. Of course, he hadn’t told her any of this, nor did he have a plan to. It’s hard not to let himself think she’s just putting on an act and he’s fall for it, that she’s just trying to make the best of a weird situation until she can be rid of him. Andy tries not to dwell on the thought.

Instead, he makes his way to her dressing room, knocking once before opening the door. “You decent?” He calls out before sticking his head in first, entering entirely a moment after. “Oh, Jesus -- Clearly not.” Andy makes a face as he catches sight of the pink monstrosity she’s been put in, but it doesn’t last -- She’s already pointing out the fact that he’s still in the ripped jeans and t-shirt/leather jacket combo he arrived there in, clearly not impressed. He’s a little caught off guard by how much he enjoys hearing the sound of his name on her lips, drawing him closer to her without even trying. “What?” He’s genuinely caught off guard, brows furrowing as he looks down at the clothes he’s wearing. Andy’s not like Rowan in that regard -- He doesn’t get done up for events, or spend hours with hair and make up. Usually a stylist shakes out his hair and he wears his signature leather jacket, and they call it a day. “Who cares about a dress code?”

ROWAN

The face he makes when he walks in has her has her feeling just slightly self-conscious, but she tells herself she’d had a similar reaction to the dress --- doesn’t dare to let herself think that he could be making the face at her in general and not the dress itself. Christ, her ego can’t take that kind of blow tonight, not when she needs to be on her A-Game. Besides, she knows the outfit is bad. It’s something she probably would’ve picked out when she was fifteen, but now all it does is lock her into the image she’s already been shoeboxed into, rather than actually helping her move forward into the new one she’s desperately hoping to break into. “Don’t make that face,” she scolds him, nose scrunching slightly. “I don’t get as much wardrobe freedom as you apparently do. It was this or neon green with long sleeves so this is the lesser of two evils.” Though still very much evil, she leaves that to herself. It’s something she probably would’ve enjoyed wearing when she was sixteen, but it definitely goes against the more mature and grown up image she’s so desperately trying to break into. A hand moves to tuck blonde hair behind her ear and she can hear her hair stylist tsk over it, but chooses to ignore it in favour of the conversation at hand.

His question has her lips pursing momentarily. A voice somewhere in the back of her head tells her not to push it --- that she always does things like this, always comes on too strong about things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, that her control freak tendencies are always one of the first things to make people realize how annoying she truly is and can be. But it’s like a compulsion she just can’t help. “Greg Sullivan does,” the answer slips out as casually as she can, shrugging her shoulders but it’s obvious that Greg Sullivan isn’t really the biggest factor here. Though that being said he loves to remind them all that they’re under his thumb and while Rowan herself has never been on the receiving end of a verbal lashing from him, she’s heard them and has zero interest in doing so. He creeps her out enough from the few and far between interactions she’s already got to smile her way through, she doesn’t need to add that to their itinerary. “And honestly, so do I. Looks are important in the industry -- to make a good impression.” Which has been drilled in her head since she was sixteen --- to always put her best foot forward, not to let anyone see her looking anything less than perfect. No wonder the sight of Andy in his ripped jeans and t-shirt before the night of a big party have her stressing out. Then she realizes she’s kind of insulted him and her cheeks heat up just slightly, stumbling to correct herself remembering how shitty it felt moments earlier when he’d given her that look. “You don’t look bad, but do you want Greg Sullivan breathing down your neck about it in a few hours? You’re not allergic to button downs, are you?” Her tone shifts, something more casual, closer to the teasing one she’s adopted around him in recent weeks.

ANDY

It’s not lost on them that there’s different expectations held for them -- From the sexism that plagues the industry, all the way down to how different their styles are musically, aesthetically, everything. She’s the good girl, the one with the smile and innocence who has a squeaky clean image -- Whereas he’s the opposite, known for causing fights and showing up in a leather jacket, without much thought for anything else. His image is built off of him being a mess, so he’s never been forced into putting a suit and gelling back his hair. “Jesus,” Andy’s sure she’d look good in whatever her stylist put her in, but neon green may be a stretch. “You sure you didn’t offend your stylist, or something? ‘Cause that sounds personal.” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs at his own words. A few months ago, he spent all of his time around her huffing and making snide comments -- It was strange to think that now, they were cracking jokes and having a conversation that didn’t involve mocking the other. “Wanna borrow my jacket?” He suggests, only half-serious. “Might give you a little more edge than… Whatever it is they put you in. Can’t imagine you’d look too bad in it.” He immediately kicks himself for his last comment, feeling like a child with a school boy crush. Hopefully she won’t pick up on it, save him the embarrassment and burning cheeks. Since when was he the kind of guy who got crushes on girls? Who made comments about a girl wearing his jacket and then had to use all of his will power to not go beet red? Jesus.

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of Greg Sullivan, someone he hates deeply -- But he welcomes as a topic change. The words fuck that guy are at the tip of his tongue, but even Andy knows better than to blurt out something like that in a place like this. You never knew who was listening, and he wasn’t planning on getting sued for defamation or something for making a passing remark. He gets the point when it comes to the importance of appearance, that perception is reality. Andy couldn’t give a shit if Greg Sullivan liked how he looked, but in that moment -- He cared about Rowan’s opinion more than he wanted to admit. A half smile comes when he notices her cheeks changing to a twinge of pink. Christ, this girl had just insulted his outfit and still he’s standing there with knots in his stomach. What the fuck. At her question, a smirk comes to his lips. “What, think you could do better?” He challenges, giving her a look. He may not be able to handle accepting his feelings for her, but he was always happy to flirt with her -- Whether she dished it back or went red and stumbled over her words. Either way, he was into it.

ROWAN

The way Andy’s face takes on just a little colour after he makes a comment about her in his jacket certainly isn’t lost on her, and it creates a small smug feeling in her chest. Even if he’s just doing all of this for fun or to pass the time, it’s satisfying to know that it isn’t completely a one way street --- that she isn’t the only one being affected by it. “Maybe when the sun goes down,” she hums out the answer to what was likely a rhetorical question, unable to keep herself from poking at it just a little. Somewhere in her mind a voice tells her that if the paparazzi outside the party get a shot of them leaving with his jacket slung over her shoulders they’ll be on the front of every magazine in the morning and she has to stop herself from frowning, disappointed that that had come to mind at all. She knows that’s the whole reason they’re even in the same room right now --- the contract is still heavily hanging between them -- but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s about that anymore. Certainly not in moments like this, and she doesn’t want to somehow taint it with something like that so she doesn’t let her facial expression change and pushes the thought away. “S’long as you think I can pull it off,” she teases just a little, circling back to his comment.

His wrinkled nose and disgusted expression is one that she can very much relate to when it comes to both Sullivans, but she doesn’t comment further on it. For a minute she’s a little worried she may have pushed too far and that they’ll be back at square one, her insult having hurled her right back into his bad graces. Then he’s smiling again --- or as much as he ever really does, and Rowan decides then that even if it kills her she’s eventually going to see that half-smile he always sports turn into a full blown grin stretching across his face eventually -- and she’s relieved. “I know I could do better,” she counters confidently, head tilting at him. “There’s a little place down the street I could do some serious damage in as long as you’re willing to trust me on it. No pink, I promise.” And yeah, maybe her fingers are metaphorically crossed behind her back because it wouldn’t kill him to wear a pink tie and match her, but she’s not about to open up with that.

ANDY

It’s almost shocking to him that she goes back and forth with him, half expecting Rowan to have made a face or tried to change the topic quickly at the offhanded comment. “I’ll hold ya to it.” Andy adds, something of a smirk at his lips. He hates that he’s getting coy around her, but if he just tells himself it’s harmless flirting — He can make it out without cheeks that look like he’s sunburned. A certain doubt keeps him grounded, reminding him of the contract they share and that anything they do that could make them look good on a paparazzi picture is the goal. He wonders if that’s motivating her, or if she actually likes him — But that’s a road Andy refuses to let himself go down (right now, at least), knowing it’d put a damper on a night that’s supposed to be a good. Just enjoy yourself. He tries to remind himself, though it’s unclear if it’ll last. “I think you’d look pretty good in leather.” He smirks as he speaks, looking her up and down as if to assess the possibility. A brow arched at her confidence in dressing him, a look of surprise on his features. “Is that so?” He challenges, hating that the way her head tilts while she speaks so confidently has his heart slamming against his chest. Her suggestion is one that could easily get them in trouble with Reina and Chris (especially the former), but admittedly — That’s part of the appeal. He’s not sure where this will lead but he’s eager to find out. “You’ve got a deal,” he begins, before holding a finger up. “If, and only if, I get to pick an outfit for you too. Because this —“ He gestures to the pink mess of fabric she’s wearing. “Isn’t gonna cut it. We’re going to a label event, not prom.” He teases her, unable to stop the half smile that comes with it. “We got a deal, Fisher?”

ROWAN

It’s so strange to think of where they are now compared to a few short months ago. She’d been so sure that there wasn’t anything in the world that could make her even tolerate him, let alone be friends with him. And now here she is --- with a crush. Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising. Rowan has always had a habit of jumping in head first and falling for the men in her life far too fast. She is vaguely aware of the fact that she looks at the world through rose coloured glasses and right now Andy is included in that world. The flirting and the back and forth is something she’s come to enjoy --- the phone calls late at night something she looks forward to and finds herself disappointed if they miss. It’s dangerous territory, that much she is aware of and when she has moments of clarity -- usually when she’s alone, catching herself thinking about him when she most certainly shouldn’t be -- she tells herself she needs to draw a line in the sand and stay on her side of it. And then she’s with him again, or he’s texting her and it all goes out the window. It’s just so easy to have this kind of relationship with him.

She’s surprised when he agrees so easily, honestly having had expected to have to beg just a little but the look of satisfaction that comes with it falls just as quickly. Of course he has conditions. Her lips purse together, hesitating and weighing out her options. She hates not having control over it --- but then, had she really had control over her outfit tonight anyway? Or over anything she wears, for that matter? Her teeth catch on her bottom lip for a moment, trying to figure out if this moment of rebellious freedom will be worth the inevitable chewing out she’s going to get from Reina for showing up in something that hadn’t been pre-approved. They’ve worked so hard over the years to carefully craft her image into what it is, and while they’re trying to break away from parts of it --- that break away is just as carefully planned. “Deal. But it can’t be anything that’s gonna have Reina draggin’ me outta there by my hair.” She’s not sure that’s even possible, but it’s worth a try. She moves to slip her shoes on. “Okay, slugger, let’s get this over with.”June 4, 2020

ANDY

She’s become a piece of his life, one he didn’t expect months ago — Rowan became part of everything he does now. Andy sees her everywhere he goes, he’s left each day wanting to hear the sound of her voice and know what she’s thinking.  He doesn’t tell her that, of course. Instead, it’s masked with a phone call where he asks about her day, or purposefully leaving something of his with her so he has a reason to come back. This conversation started just the same — Wanting an excuse to see her, so he checks in under the guise of seeing how she’s doing. Under any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have agreed. It’s not often that he actually “dresses up” and if it weren’t her insisting on dressing him, he would have told whoever criticized his outfit to go fuck themselves. But with Rowan, he’s eager to have alone time with her, to sneak off and do a task as mundane as this with her by his side, and no one looming over either of their shoulders.

His heart rate speeds up as she bites her lip, apparently deep in thought over his conditions, before she agrees. Truthfully, Andy’s a bit surprised they were both willing to agree to this — But he’s not complaining. At the mention of Reina, something between a scoff and laugh comes. God knows the woman in question wouldn’t be happy with anything he does, even if he could move mountains she’d complain they’re too far to the left. “I’ll skip the leather and chains, got it.” He jokes, knowing that they’re going to surely get in some sort of trouble regardless of what either of them are wearing. The nickname slugger pulls a smile from him — He tries to conceal it, as stupid as it sounds, so that she can’t see how much he enjoys it. “Well?” He holds his arm up for her to loop her hand through (the idea of holding her hand makes him more nervous that he wants to admit, before the embarrassment of being nervous to hold a girl’s hand settles in.), so that they can be on their way.

Getting to the boutique in question is a simple enough task — They still have hours until the event tonight, so no one is on the hunt for them, leaving a window of opportunity to sneak out. This place isn’t exactly somewhere Andy would choose on his own, but he’s willing to trust Rowan’s judgment. Before he knows it, he’s got an arm full of hanging clothes, shoved into the fitting room so that the fashion show can begin. He’s got the first suit on — One he’s pretty sure she’s picked out just to fuck with him, now that he’s looking himself wearing a blazer with a matching pant that’s pattern could rival the curtains at his Mother’s house. “Okay, I’m regretting agreeing to this.” He says loud enough for her to hear, before opening the fitting room door to show it off. “People actually buy this shit?”

ROWAN

It hadn’t taken them long to get to the boutique she’d had in mind. Part of her finds herself disappointed when they get there, her arms easily slipping out of his so they can get down to business but she doesn’t dwell on it. While they still have a good amount of time before anyone is expecting them, she doesn’t want Reina to find out about her disappearance and send out a search party or something. On the other hand, the little bit of alone time they manage to sneak is something Rowan would like to hold onto for as long as possible, so maybe the embarrassing search and rescue would be worth it. Either way, she makes quick work of buzzing around the shop, loading up his arms with various articles of clothing she insist he try on —- and yes, maybe a handful of them are a little extravagant; things that aren’t really practical for where they’re going nor would she want him to wear them, but part of her just wants to see if he’d be willing to indulge her. It doesn’t quite occur to her yet that soon they’ll be in opposite situations and he can have her trying on something equally horrendous.

Before long they find themselves hidden away in a private fitting area. Rowan flops onto the couch while she waits for him, slipping out of her heels almost immediately and justifying it by saying she’ll, hopefully, be buying a different pair of shoes anyways. “Don’t be a baby,” her eyes roll at his comment, though her voice remains light and teasing. “It can’t be that—-” turns out it is that bad. Her words fall short when the curtain opens, her lips pursing together into a thin line to keep herself from laughing too hard, though that only lasts a few seconds. Her nose crinkles while she really takes in the outfit, clearly not one of her more serious choices. “It’s bold,” she suggests weakly, trying not to start off with something too harsh should it make him regret this whole thing. “Maybe just a little bit… busy.” She stands from the couch and takes a few steps to cross the room, one finger lifting to touch against the largest piece of the pattern — a deep red flower that’s on the jacket at least sixty times. “This colour is nice, though, and I think there’s a shirt in there that’s pretty similar. That should be round two.”

ANDY

He’s not sure where this is headed -- He’d agreed to letting her dress him because he likes a challenge and has a crush he won’t admit to, but now that’s actually standing in the fitting room, Andy’s not sure what Rowan had in mind. He may have a crush on her, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have an ulterior motive. Or maybe he’s just assuming the worst. It never takes him long to get into his own head, but once her words fall short at the sight of the suit he’s in -- It’s reassuring. “I look like a lamp.” He dead pans, trying to ignore the way he holds his breath when she steps closer to him. Rowan isn’t even really touching him, just examining the design -- But it’s enough for his nerves to make a comeback. “Somehow I doubt that’s gonna be much better.” He replies easily, giving his usual poker face despite what’s actually going on behind the mask. “But for you, I’ll give it a shot.” Andy gives her a half smile, before turning on his heel quickly to return to the dressing room before she can catch sight of the redness in his cheeks. God, when did this become so fucking personal? He’s never had an issue talking up a girl at a bar, an event, whatever -- But Rowan’s managed to get a hold of him, one he hadn’t expected. He retires to the fitting room once more, replacing the suit with a button up shirt of the same pattern with a pair of black pants -- It looks much better, truthfully. Rather than getting swallowed by the pattern it’s more of an accent, but he’s still hesitant. The majority of his closet consists of black, denim, or old band shirts. Nothing like this. “I don’t know about this, Ro.” He calls from the fitting room, a knot in his stomach at the nickname. Get a fucking grip. He opens the door after, showing her the clothes before stepping over to the mirror. “This one still looks… like a lot.” He continues, sizing himself up. "You sure this isn't some form of sabotage?" He teases her, giving a pointed look.

ROWAN

Part of her is pretty sure this isn’t going anywhere and that at the end of all of this, he’s going to revert back to square one and leave here in the exact same outfit he’d come in wearing. Rowan’s not sure that he really trusts her on any of this, and that much is evident as he calls out that he doesn’t know about it again. “It’s not sabotage. You’re my boyfriend --- at least as far as the world is concerned. You look bad, I look bad. It’s a package deal thing.” She manages to catch her slip up relatively quickly, but kicks herself for having done it at all. Rowan is very much aware of the fact that she’s getting herself into a potentially heartbreaking (not to mention financially devastating should Andy’s legal team decide to sue her for some kind of breach of contract) situation by starting to actually like him, but it’s not something that she has any control over. He had seemed like the perfect candidate for the role a few months ago --- one of few people in the world that her bleeding heart wouldn’t open up for, and he’d managed to knock down all of her expectations and preconceived notions about him and here they are.

“It just looks like a lot because you’re not used to it.” Her smile is soft, trying to reassure the obvious nerves he’s got. “It looks good, but if you’re gonna be uncomfortable all night then you shouldn’t wear it.” She knows exactly what it’s like to have to wear something you don’t feel confident in and how it can ruin a whole night. Her lips purse together for a second before disappearing into the dressing room to dig around for a moment, coming back out with a few items thrown over her arms. “I think you should stick with that pattern. It looks nice on you, but if you’re unsure about the shirt you could try this---” she steps up beside him, moving to hold a black shirt up -- not her first choice, if she’s being honest but it’s not really about her --- against his chest before draping a tie in the same pattern over his shoulder. “I still like the shirt. But I’d give this the okay, too. S’your choice.”June 11, 2020

ANDY

He hates how much he loves hearing the word boyfriend fall from her lips, though he pushes the feeling away, telling himself he’s just reading too far into things. She’s just talking about how his fashion choices, or lack thereof, effect her -- Even if he’s not sure he’s ever heard her refer to him as her boyfriend outside of a paparazzi filled event. “Yeah, yeah -- I get it.” He plays it cool, verbally waving away her words despite the knots in his stomach. “We’re America’s sweethearts or whatever now -- Did you know we’re the new Brangelina?” He teases, gasping at the mention of the couple, eyes rolling as he leaves the dressing room to show off the clothes. Her smile is soft, sending him back to square one -- Andy hates that something as simple as just fucking looking at her is enough to make him feel like a little kid, but he can’t help it when she gives him a smile and tries to ease his concerns. “I guess,” he shrugs, turning to look in the mirror, examining himself. The longer he looks at it, the more the shock begins to wear off -- But it’s still a bit much in comparison to his usual look. She moves to place a shirt in front of him while standing behind, and though it’s something more his speed -- A black button up, right to the point -- he can see she’s not that impressed. The close proximity between them gets his heart racing, and before he knows it he’s turning on his heel to face her. She’s closer than they usually are when the cameras are present -- Enough for him to smell her perfume and have to resist the urge to reach out and move a piece of hair from her face. “I think I’m gonna trust your judgment on this one.” He nods, looking down at the patterned shirt he’s wearing. “If I end up on a worst dressed list I’m blamin’ you, though.”

ROWAN

It comes as a surprise when Andy turns around and she’s suddenly aware of how close they are. Her initial instinct is to step back and put some distance between them, to try and retreat back to the easy atmosphere between them but she doesn’t move. Instead, she stays where she is — almost like she can’t pull away, like if she does he’ll just move too as if they’re connected to each other. “Good choice,” she smiles up at him, tries to regain the bit of composure that she has lost. She can feel his breath fan against her cheeks when he laughs and despite how unprofessional it is (is their relationship even professional anymore? It’s all so confusing) she can’t stop the idea of how easy it would be to just lean up and kiss him then — her eyes linger on his lips for just a second too long, cheeks flushing slightly and her hands move to smooth out the collar of the shirt, not because it really needs it but she just needs to do something with them. “You’re gonna be thanking me tomorrow when you make top ten best dressed —- maybe even top five.” She bites her lip for a second, trying to figure out just how much she’s willing to toe the line. Her eyes stay on the top button of the shirt, “you’re gonna look good —- you do look good. If only you knew when to make a move, coulda been the whole package.”

ANDY

Anyone who saw this would be able to tell exactly what’s happening — They’re shamelessly flirting, finding themselves in what would be a montage in a stereotypical rom-com. There’s no denying that he’s enjoying this, how seriously she’s taking this and each smile she gives creates knots in his stomach. Admittedly, he turned to face her for purely selfish reasons, wanting to be closer to her, even if he has to resist the urge to reach out. Andy has to remind himself that she’s not actually his girlfriend, that none of this is real — And there’s a large possibility that Rowan is only humoring him for the sake of the contract they’ve signed. He catches the way her eyes linger on his lips, the twinge of pink on her cheeks, the way a shiver goes down his spine while she fixes his collar — A voice in the back of his head tells him he’s just making it up, but for this moment, he’s letting himself enjoy it. “I’m gonna hold ya to that.” Andy smiles, giving her a look. The tension is palpable, and he’s tempted to lean in, but stays where he is for fear of misreading this — Rowan is a sweet girl, one who always sports a smile and something kind to say, it wouldn’t be shocking if he’d made this all up in his head. And then — If only you knew when to make a move… A brow arches, smirk at his lips. “Make a move, huh?” He repeats, a hand moving to the back of her head as he leans in — “Oh, oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” One of the workers are the boutique turns the corner and interrupts once he’s practically a centimeter from her lips, stopping him dead in his tracks. Of fucking course. Truthfully, his brains first reaction to someone interrupting had been that Reina found them and was going to rip him apart. His hand lets go of her, and he clears his throat as a hand rubs the back of his neck. “I think this one is good. Let’s uh — Let’s find ya something to match.”