Chapter Text
Runway Holiday Edition. 1/2
Monday, Dec. 10 (I must have started this 2018 bc Dec. 10 was a Monday then…)
Rushing from the elevator and down the Runway hallway, Andrea fought to balance in her tall shoes while moving at speed and keeping the coffees elevated as she slowly lost her grip on the skirts from Calvin Klein, her purse, and her sanity. The heat of the building hit her cold face hard and had her wanting to strip away the layers of hat, scarf, and outer jacket. It was hard to do a victory dance for delivering the coffee to Miranda’s desk with time to spare without losing any of the other items.
Such pleasures were short-lived within the walls of Runway, so by the time Andrea had stripped those items off, warmed up her computer, and tucked everything away—well, she was behind. A notification was flashing on her screen, the phone was ringing, and Emily had appeared from nowhere dressed in a red, silver and black ensemble that oddly seemed holiday themed to Andrea’s eye. Shaking that thought away, Andrea knew there was no way that Runway or more specifically Miranda Priestly would ever tolerate the over stimulation of a holiday be-dazzled Runway staff. The demanding and exacting woman who gave Andrea the Cerulean Blue speech and deliberately mispronounced her name, would surely not be the type of woman to fall into a world of Dickens and Jane Austen or even the more ‘I’d like to buy the world a Coke’ versions of Santa with his pet polar bear and deer, Norman Rockwell family, and—Andrea shook herself out of that whole train of thought.
Andrea felt the honesty of the Jingle Bell Rock opening of Lethal Weapon or the gunmen at the office party in Die Hard were her kinds of holiday—those were stories about real people and not just obsessed versions of holiday romanticism. She preferred a certain amount of reality when it came to the holidays, otherwise it made the one she grew up in and went home from college to visit abnormal. That pair of films highlighted the loss of loved ones, what a person would do to get them back or to try to make meaning in a world without them. They didn’t pretend that there weren’t disagreements, or bad things happening to good people, or people that just made bad decisions to the point that things caught up with them.
She supposed that made her sound like a bit of a psychopath what with the murder and terror, but that wasn’t her focus. She simply thought of them as holiday films that weren’t really holiday films. For her there simply were no miracles on 34th street and the Nutcracker didn’t fend off the Mouse King.
Andrea set aside her thoughts on Emily’s outfit, perhaps it was a detail of fashion that escaped her. After all, she couldn’t tell one similar looking belt apart from another. She was just the smart, fat girl, even after having worked at Runway for long enough to earn her name and the added joy of working even later into the evening in order to stay and then deliver the Book to Miranda’s home. Andrea busied herself throughout the day all around the Runway floors and if there was more red, green, silver, gold, and black than usual, well, Andrea dismissed it as happenstance.
Moving full speed toward the elevator, Andrea nearly missed a step as she noticed a small table with a cloth that reached down to the floor. A table top tree in a decorated pot was sparsely dotted with flickering battery operated candles, gold stars, and cornucopia. There were a handful of old-fashioned toys that were clearly stolen from the set of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women . Andrea admitted it was about as close as she could get to Dickens reading-wise even though it was from a different island and nearly 30 years later. Per the likely time period hinted at, the toys were not flashy or extravagant or expensive, they did not cover the table to the point of excess. Andrea sniffed and focused on her tasks as she slipped into the elevator. Sighing out her wonder at the appearance of holiday cheer in an environment clearly not based around giving to others and the pure power of love, Andrea rolled her eyes. At least it was historically accurate for the time it was hinting at . She mused to herself.
Andrea glared at the table when she returned and wondered if there were other displays that she had just not noticed. She hoped that it wouldn’t creep up on her unaware until she was drowning in the glitter and sparkle of the holiday spirit where everyone pretended that they were sugarplum fairies.
Tuesday, Dec. 11
Zooming out of the elevator, Andrea made her way into the Editor’s office beginning the routine of her day. It wasn’t until she had turned on her computer and come to a complete stop that she noticed that every window was outlined in swags of garland—pine and boxwood if her mother’s attention to holiday detail had taught her anything. Andrea sniffed the air to scent the fresh cut wood smell of the thin branches. She tiptoed around her desk to double check that the garland was not just on the little glass wall between the Editor’s office and the Assistant’s Area. Oh no, it had jumped across the office to the far wall of windows behind Miranda Priestly’s desk. Turning on the spot, Andrea’s jaw dropped as she let her eyes travel back along the hallway taking in the continuous presence of the garland.
When the phone rang, Andrea squeaked as she hustled to pick it up. The day was upon her.
A text from Emily shook her phone on the desk.
Andrea wrote a message and hung up. She stood up just in time to catch Miranda’s coat and bag.
Mentally the brunette positioned her feet on the sprinter’s starting blocks, and readied her body to run. Once she’d placed Miranda’s belongings, Andrea knew the list of tasks for the day would be updated and begun. In a strange way, Andrea wondered if the garland ran throughout Runway and hoped that her errands would enable her to see just how far the holiday cheer had spread. Not for the last time, she wondered if Auto Universe wouldn’t have been a better choice after all. Then the image of an American Muscle car with a Santa Hat on it or some other nonsense would flash into her mind and run that day dream off the road.
Andrea did a double take as she accidentally brushed a garland at the entrance to the Closet. A high tinkling sound slipped in amongst the usual Runway tones startled her. Examining the garland, Andrea noted that the branches, leaves, and needles were real instead of elaborate imitation and there were small bells interspersed in the foliage. Unable to resist, Andrea kept studying the new decor until she deciphered the thin gold thread woven throughout that held it all together and then discreetly attached the lot to the wall with pins of the same color. Andrea pulled back frowning at the amount of time and effort, not to mention money, that had to have gone into such a production of lining the entirety of the runway floors. She wondered what Runway would look like on the fire department’s annual Christmas tree on fire video, if the scenes were switched. Then she supposed that there was a whole host of runway elves that sprayed water on the garlands every night in between making fashion for the children of New York and toys to distribute as well. Snorting at her own dark humor, Andrea shook her head and continued about her business. The rest of the office had not made any other overt reactions to the entryway table decorations nor the creeping vine of holiday cheer that the garlands twisted into in her mind.
Wednesday, Dec. 12
Using the elevator ride up to the Runway floor, Andrea sharpened her focus to a laser-like precision. She barreled down the hall to drop the coffees and tuck her things away. She refused to notice the decorations that began that Monday and continued into Tuesday not wanting to know to what sparkle level Runway might have ascended to on the third day of the week. She refused to even check if it was the third day of Christmas . She knew that the decorations were merely objects that would not jump up and bite her. She knew she could pass through this festive time where everyone seemed to pretend that it was suddenly all singing, drinking, and gifting together in the big happy family of the world. She also knew that for some people it was true. She respected that and wanted it for more people—the reality, rather than the illusion. She just couldn’t understand why people would band around together tied by tinsel to tenuous connections that only seemed to come alive for a few hours on a holiday meal. She wasn’t sure why they focused on a forced period of fake happiness, instead of just trying to have their day to day be happier in general. With a sigh, she fanned out the magazines and glanced around the office to make sure her tasks were accomplished.
Making her first lap of the Runway floor, Andrea spotted a three foot tall Nutcracker figurine near reception. The craftsmanship was evident, even though the older piece had clearly been a well-loved item for long years. It had withstood the test of time as a champion, which Andrea supposed was fitting of the character after all. With a wistful smile, Andrea thought back to her torn relationship with the holiday ballet. The yearly family trip to see the production almost always ended in tears and a grounding; though Andrea had always loved the costumes, the lights, the staging, and the story of the Nutcracker coming to the rescue and the victory.
Every year though, the experience was shrouded in harsh words and disappointments that outweighed the small joys she found. Her outfit was never the right one, her shirt was not tucked in, there was no skirt on her body, her shoes were better suited to the garden or combat than an afternoon or evening out, and her hair was never still in the same pair of braids or pony tails and had to be re-done at least three times. Her father never wanted to spend the money, hated parking, grumbled about walking in the snow, and thought that being late or almost late was a crime. Her mother was always running late, misjudging the time it took to prepare two boisterous children or herself or to repair them over and over again as they were almost ready and it was spotted that there was a stain on her brother’s shirt or Andrea still had not put on the skirt. Her father would shout that they should have saved the money and stayed home to watch It’s a Wonderful Life on tv. Instead. Again. With a sigh, Andrea checked her list and continued about her business.
Andrea was nearly spooked out of her Jimmy Choos when she walked into the Closet and was caught off guard by a life-sized Nutcracker. She spent the rest of the day checking around corners and spotting all the nutcrackers that had been tucked around the floor of the building.
Her jaw had dropped open and she had risked Miranda’s wrath by not paying attention when she spotted a series of small figurines hidden on the alcove that held the hostess tray with glasses, decanter, water pitcher, and bottles of various spirits. The figurines were of Clara; Drosselmeyer; Nutcracker; Prince; the Mouse King; the Indian, Asian, and Russian dancers; as well as the Ballerina. Andrea had come to a complete stop, with open jaw and unseeing blinking eyes that were attempting to confirm what her eyes thought they were seeing: there was the slightest hint of some kind of fake snow all over the alcove making it understated and tasteful despite Andrea’s lifelong learned instinct to revile all holiday decorations as reminders of hurtful words, stress, and never being able to get around either one in order to have that Hallmark good old fashioned happy holiday.
That thought snapped her out of her musings quickly as she inwardly growled, Miracle on 6th Avenue doesn’t have the same ring to it as Miracle on 34 th Street . This was Runway, not Macy’s.
With a feeling of dread, Andrea’s attention snapped to Miranda, who thankfully was hanging up the phone and simply held out her hand for the items Andrea had brought up from the Closet and all but forgotten were in her hands.
Miranda watched her assistant leave and considered that Andrea didn’t like the holidays, or her, since that’s all that was really in the room. The decorations were new and she was the evil boss lady. However, she didn’t think Andrea really felt that way about her.
Thursday Dec. 13
Arguing with herself about whether to beeline to Miranda’s office or take the time to accept the new decorations, Andrea’s mouth dropped open, though her hands remained steady with the coffee and deliveries. Elves were not repelling down from the ceiling blasting people with Christmas cheer. Stepping onto the Runway floor, Andrea quickly shifted her gaze from side to side as she crept down the hallway. Had she been side stepping back against the wall and peeking suddenly around corners before she quickly jumped into the turn, well, they would have thought she was simply lost on her way to the Lethal Weapon 25 audition.
Not letting her guard down, Andrea finally found the day’s new decor in the Assistant’s Area. Large stacks of wrapped presents were on each side of the area and behind each assistant hung a wreath. Dismissing them for the moment, Andrea continued on her mission, so that she could examine this new monstrosity drawing her into holiday cheer. Coffee settled, magazines fanned, Nutcracker set in the alcove--was that fresh snow? Andrea scooted out of the editor’s office before the damn figurines waved at her or started dancing.
Returning to examine the presents, Andrea noticed the precise folding of the wrapping paper, the perfect edges, and almost hidden tape. She thought of packages from her youth where she had not cut smoothly when the scissors didn’t glide up the paper and then the not quite right bends in the paper that she would force into position and crease, the bare edges of the inside of the paper sticking out from the decorated sides. She winced at her younger self not measuring correctly and needing to cut a special patch of wrapping paper to tape on where an end fold clearly still showed the box and revealed the gift anyway. Andrea shook her head at the thought of tying a bow around and then giving up and just using the sticky kind or none at all.
The presents in the assistant’s area were covered precisely in thick paper that had an old matte texture to it that spoke of painstaking care and a pride in craftsmanship for the act of wrapping in and of itself. The colors were muted and the patterns seemed to come from the late 1800s. Flashing in her mind, Andrea reviewed the other decorations and their stately presence that focused on the calm celebration of another century. Andrea remembered what her mother had told her earlier in the week, that Dicken’s own personal experiences of Christmas had very little to do with the type he stylized in his Carol. Not for the first time, she wondered if it was all deliberately about fantasy and putting the best possible trappings forward for the holiday. If only people would admit that part of it, Andrea thought she could go along in a less feisty way about things.
The ribbons on the packages went around one direction and then criss crossed underneath and came up to be tied in the most meticulous bows Andrea thought she had ever seen in person. She lifted up another one, not only to check the ribbon, but to confirm her new discovery, the present boxes were not empty. Lifting a questioning eyebrow up at the stack, Andrea wondered if it really were a miracle on 6th Avenue and names would be added to these packages as they turned into real presents.
Friday Dec. 14
Andrea nearly tipped the coffee over on Miranda’s desk, when she came to a stop. Ribbon had been wound around the editor’s chair in intersecting patterns of silver and gold that culminated in a bow tied on the top left hand side of the chair back. Blinking several times, Andrea tried not to imagine the box perched just over the shoulder of her boss as she held her glasses to her mouth and let her eyes critically roll over Andrea’s body from head to toe and back again. For whatever reason, Andrea found that this holiday decoration intrigued her. It gave her a bit of a thrill. She wondered what this tradition would appear as for say, Valentine’s Day in a deep red and black, or even closer on the calendar for New Year’s with Miranda's eye color blue and either a black velvet or a deep purple. She found herself wondering if the ribbon was limited to chairs and wanting to find out.
It was an intriguing response and if it was the way to reconcile herself to holiday decorations--by bedazzling other perhaps darker corners of her mind, well, fa-la-la-la. Let’s make merry together or perhaps we’re all mad here.
Stopping a demented laugh from bubbling up, Andrea shook off this latest round of insanity and got to work. The magazines wouldn’t fan themselves after all.
Vowing to get on with her day’s tasks, Andrea briskly moved about the office and out to the Assistant’s area. She stumbled as she took in the ribbons, the velvet ribbons, twined around her chair in a stormy dark blue and not quite dark purple. Recovering, she spun around to see Emily’s chair similarly bound in burgundy and gold ribbon. Andrea caught herself before the laugh could escape as she thought of Emily as an ill-tempered Gryffindor and having to see that jaunty little bow over her shoulder all day. Once again shaking off her imaginings, Andrea bustled about the office and then found reasonable excuses to visit other areas on the 17th floor to see just how far the ribbons had spread and covered things like fashionable holiday ivy.
“Nigel?” Andrea stopped in the doorway to his office noting the lack of a chair and the presence of the beribboned light table. “Oh, you’re here early and the ribbons found you.”
Raising up, Nigel smiled at the second assistant and gave her a sly smile. “Have you only just noticed what time of year it is, Six?” He waved his hands around to indicate the whole floor and then nodded up at the sprig of holly dangling in his doorway.
“It’s been intensifying all week, Nigel. Miranda hasn’t come down on them?” Andrea stepped closer to him and sort of whispered her question.
Aiming his grease pencil at the doorway, he shook his head. “Don’t let anyone tell you there is mistletoe in there. Sometimes people try to steal a kiss and claim they thought it was mistletoe. Smack them if they get fresh with you.”
Eyes wide, Andrea asked, “This has happened before?” There went her theory that this was the work of a recent hire gone rogue. New questions swirled in her mind like snow in a shaken glass globe.
“Visit the cafeteria at lunch today, Six.” He winked at her. “Holiday music. Frosted snowmen and snowflake sugar cookies. Holiday napkins. Runway is truly a Christmas Cornucopia.”
Andrea shivered at the thought of the decorations continuing to ramp up as they approached the holiday. “I can’t believe Miranda allows this.”
Smirking at his almost friend, Nigel murmured, “Believe it, Six, and don’t be the Mouse King.”
For the first time, Andrea realized that he was wearing a red shirt with a subtle gold thread pattern that criss crossed his chest the way a military jacket might have ribbon emblazoned across it. On the shoulder there was a more obvious bar of close together stitches symbolizing the shoulder decorations on a dress uniform. “Nigel?” She let out his name in a shocked whisper. Perhaps she should have called him, Nutcracker. Or The Nutcracker or Mr. Nutcracker? Andrea wasn’t sure and her jaw dropped open at his response.
Holding his arms at shoulder height in a circle, he raised onto his toes and twirled once.
Saturday. Dec. 15
“Unbelievable!” Andrea set her belongings down in shock at the sight of the entrance hall festooned with a wide variety of holiday decorations. She didn’t bother taking off her coat or gloves. “We can’t reschedule. We can’t.” In a panic, Andrea rushed into the room, they were set to have the photoshoot in. She was early and no one else was there; however, she knew there wasn’t enough time to undo this spreading plague of holiday virus.
Swooping along the nearest wall, Andrea grabbed up snowmen, pine boughs, santas, and the occasional stack of mini-presents. She wasn’t sure what she would do with them all, but she supposed that the table clothes draped to the floor for a reason. The only question in her panic frenzied brain was whether she could gather them all in the ticking minutes that she had before the others would arrive.
Before Miranda would arrive. She had kept her eye on the planning and preparations for this shoot from the first moment it had become a glimmer in her eye. There was no way that she would miss this, having her favorite models wearing the clothes of her favorite designer photographed by her favorite photographer. She had chosen the location after all.
Andrea closed her eyes overwhelmed with a wave of failure that sent moisture welling up in her eyes and adding another dark mark against all things holiday in her mind.
“Here. I’ll take those.” The soft voice sent a shiver of both dread and strangely warmth through Andrea’s body. If Miranda were here, then the end was already upon them and there was no need to panic or scurry anymore. It was already too late.
Andrea kept her eyes closed as the decorations were gently tugged from her arms a few at a time. She did not want to open them and face the reality surrounding her. With her eyes closed, she could imagine that she was at home in her bed dreading the alarm instead of already here on the site of hte photoshoot that would become her own gallow’s hill.
When her arms were empty of decorations, Andrea clung to her illusion, until she felt a hand slowly rubbing up and down her upper arm. “Miranda?” She choked on the name, but opened her eyes to prove it for herself.
“The set up is perfect. The shots will be lovely.” Miranda waved at the hall around them to indicate its decorated status being acceptable. “Shoots are stressful. Why don’t you take a long coffee run and come back to settle in for the day?” Miranda tilted her head in a questioning manner while her eyes never left Andrea’s shocked ones.
“Miranda?” Andrea could only manage the intonation of a question instead of a full set of words.
“Think about my level of involvement with this photoshoot and the slow transformation of the 17th floor while you are away. We’ll talk when you get back.” Miranda smiled a slow smile that warmed Andrea’s heart the way she imagined all those Hallmark channel movies were trying to convey Christmas morning should feel.
Andrea allowed Miranda to nudge her back toward the entrance hall and away on her mission to retrieve hotter than the center of the sun espresso drinks.
*** *** ***
Crossing the room, Andrea let her eyes wander over the form of her enigmatic boss propped against the far wall. Surprised that her boss was observing from the outer edges of the shoot, Andrea noticed the wonder on the editor’s beautiful face. Thankfully, she only had the two coffees to manage and a flat surface. Silently handing her boss the small cup, Andrea began to step away.
“My introduction to New York was the snow in the city, the lights, the treasures to be found in every storefront window from the fame of Macy’s and Fifth Avenue down to the local five and dime drugstore. Everyone bustled about with a sense of purpose, sometimes longing, and often joy. I was taking over a Runway dragged down over the years. The prospect of the job filled me with an overwhelming sense of gladness and possibility that coalesced with the holiday season and an indefatigable sense of hope. My holidays were a mixed bag over the years, but from that first year here it has all blended into a deep love for Runway, New York, and the holidays.”
Miranda’s voice pulled Andrea close to the point of leaning so that their shoulders brushed against each other as they reclined against the wall.
“That makes so much sense.” Andrea finally responded in an equally quiet voice.
Miranda turned to face the younger woman. “It is not how you experience this time of year though.” It wasn’t quite a question in tone, but her body language clearly let Andrea know the older woman was listening.
Shaking her head, Andrea took a sip from her dopio. Then she tilted her head in thought for a moment and answered, “It hasn’t all coalesced for me the way it did for you. My first year in New York was culture shock, losing friends and a boyfriend, and just making it through the fire.” Then Andrea paused to look around them and consider the situation further. Miranda Priestly had stepped away from an important photoshoot to speak to her on a personal level. Deliberately. “Thank you for sharing this with me.
Still facing Andrea, the editor took her own sip of coffee before responding. “Hopefully this will be a year of better tidings.” Miranda tapped her coffee cup against Andrea’s without the slightest hint of sarcasm. It appeared that Miranda wanted to speak further, but then had thought better of it. Her cheeks blushed a wonderful shade of pink. Covering the awkwardness, Miranda turned back to the photoshoot and savored another sip of coffee.
Andrea found that she did not want the conversation to end. “I have reluctantly enjoyed the decorations this past week. It’s hard to get past the broken promises of the past. I can see the attention to detail and quality threaded through all of them when I have you in mind considering them.”
Throughout the photoshoot Miranda stayed near Andrea or returned to their place along the wall. She pointed out different details that caught her eye or that turned out even better than she thought they might from the initial planning stages. She occasionally faced Andrea and her face was flush with joy and her eyes sparkling with it. Andrea found herself smiling despite herself and basking in the reflecting shine of Miranda’s pleasure.
Leaning close to Miranda, Andrea reveled in the fact that the older woman inclined her head back to listen for her words. “This year already feels better than last year.”
Miranda half turned to face Andrea before she spoke, “It wasn’t all snowflakes all the time. It is worth it though.” Pushing away from the wall, Miranda let her hand brush against Andrea’s. Then she was congratulating the photographer and signaling the end of the shoot so that the others would swoop in to break up their equipment.
Sunday, Dec. 16
Andrea was thrilled to not have to leave her house on Sunday. She doesn’t want to gawk at the Macy’s window displays or fight her way around the Santa’s village in the Mall or see the ice skaters in Rockefeller Center or any of the rest of it. She played a long mini-series all day so that she would not have commercials, holiday films, or the like.
Vowing to stay at home, Andrea lingered as long as she could over her coffee and simple breakfast. Then she pulled out the dvds for her favorite spaceship tv show and settled in for a long day without tinsel or sparkle or candy canes.
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