Chapter Text
Crystal said this would be the hardest part of the entire interview -- and Christen shrugged it off as her best friend trying to bust her chops a little. But walking through the huge glass doors of the building and going up to the front desk really is nerve-wracking.
The floors are so clean that she can see her reflection; she is also acutely aware of the thudding clack of her court heels on them. If she had it all her way, she would have been wearing her comfy Converse today, but that was another one of Crystal’s little nuggets of advice – look your best, this is Luxe Magazine after all.
Christen pulls at the hem of her cardigan, pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she approaches the desk.
The woman behind it is surely only moonlighting here as a temp – a side-hustle from her actual career of being one of those Victoria’s Secret angels. She’s tall, blonde and with the bluest eyes Christen’s ever seen. Skin smooth like porcelain and delicate facial features – probably the prettiest woman Christen has ever seen in real life.
“Good morning, welcome to Luxe Magazine, my name is Jessica – how may I be of assistance?”, the blonde asks in a perky, upbeat sort of way that would suggest she enjoys this job. There’s no smile on her face, though, just a curious look in those blue eyes as she scans Christen like a judgmental robot.
“Oh, yeah—h-hi”, Christen offers, a little out of breath because of the brisk walk and the nerves of her impending interview. “My name’s Christen Press, I’m here for the interview”.
The woman, Jessica, looks her up and down again; a slight frown sets between her brows and the look on her face is one of skepticism.
“Interview? Here?”, she asks, head slightly cocking to the side, almost as if it’s not quite computing that the woman standing in front of her actually has business here.
“Y-yeah; um… I’m supposed to meet Mr Donahue, um… of HR and recruitment”, Christen says in the cadence of a question.
“Oh, okay”, Jessica nods while her hand automatically reaches for the telephone. “I’ll just confirm with him”.
Christen nods, taking a step back from the big, metal desk. It gives her just a little bit of time to look around the foyer.
This place is even bigger than what Crystal described. It does, however, look like something out of a sci-fi film, so her bestie was right about that. Everything is so metal and so chrome and everyone walking around here looks like they’re models on the runway. Chins up, shoulders back, gliding in the sort of way that Christen never has done, or would even attempt to do.
“Alright, thank you, sir”, Jessica says, then hangs up the call. She offers Christen a small and insincere half-smile. “Mr Donahue confirmed”.
“Great”, Christen says, pushing her glasses back up her nose.
“His office is on the third floor. Just go up to the desk there, Celia will direct you”.
Christen nods again, then spins around and looks for the elevator.
“To the left, behind”, Jessica provides, already focusing on the computer monitor on her desk. “And have a nice day”.
The inside of the elevator is also giving major sci-fi vibes – what with the blue LED’s and the synth-y Sweet Dreams Are Made of This cover playing as she rides up to the third floor.
Naturally, the walls are mirrors – this is a fashion magazine after all, and as Crystal’s explained to her numerous times, Luxe is all about being on the cutting edge of fashion.
Christen sighs softly, looking at her outfit for the day. Crystal helped her pick it out, of course – she’d have been completely lost if the woman hadn’t. They both agreed that simple worked best – and settled on a pair of black slacks, a white button up and her favourite beige cardigan. Definitely not the definition of cutting edge fashion, but Christen’s never been about fashion.
She’s never bought into all of that – it’s just always felt like a scam to her. Why would these magazines and these fashion gurus preach about getting the newest and latest fashions? And why would they try and sell you these luxury brands? It’s all so they can get their piece of the pie. And that’s just the start of this industry’s problems. It’s capitalist, it’s greed and consumerism at its darkest, not to mention rooted in racism, fatphobia, elitism and unethical business practices – it’s just an awful industry that she will NOT support.
And of course Crystal encouraged her not to say all of that during this interview. Because despite the fact that Christen didn’t like the fashion industry, she did like having a roof over her head and at least one meal to eat every day. And she did like what Luxe could mean for her career in the long run.
She plays with the hand-woven leather bracelet around her wrist – the one Channing swears is a lucky charm and will bring her infinite luck if she always wears it. Right now she needs a job – any job. Anything to keep her alive while her big breakthrough comes. And she needs all the luck she can get.
Her parents had been helping her out all through grad school, but that ship has now sailed – for the first time in her life she’s on her own and for the first time since her move to New York City, she’s feeling the pressure of trying to make it here.
So, this job has to happen for her. It’s at a big fashion magazine, one of the subsidiaries of one of the biggest publishing houses in the country, the pay is decent and the opportunities seemingly endless. Crystal started out as the printer girl, and now she’s the assistant to the Head of Fashion here.
Christen gets out of the elevator and makes her way over to the next Victoria’s Secret Angel receptionist, Celia.
“Hi, I’m—”
“Here to see Mr. Donahue”, Celia cuts her off while typing on her computer and actively avoiding eye contact. “His office is the third one on the left”.
“Oh, thanks”. Christen walks down another sci-fi looking corridor, hearing the feint chuckle coming from the front desk and Celia’s voice going ‘oh, I see what you meant’.
It doesn’t bother her as much as it should – another thing Crystal warned her about. Luxe employees weren’t known to be girl’s girls. The receptionists are all cool with each other but would stab one another in the back at the drop of a hat. And if you’re new, if you’re not as modelesque as them, you’ll probably be the butt of the joke every now and then.
Christen’s used to it anyway – and if she could make it through high school in California, she could survive a couple of mean girls here.
She finds Donahue’s office quickly and knocks on his door. The nerves begin to settle once more and she hears her stomach flipping around. She probably should’ve eaten breakfast or had a coffee at least, but with her luck she wouldn’t spilled something on her only nice, white button up and she didn’t want to risk it.
The door flings open and she jumps backwards.
“Hello”, Donahue greets with an emotionless face. “You’re Christen Press?”
“Yes, sir”.
He gives her a once-over, then nods and lets her in.
His office is very… gold.
Christen can’t help but get distracted by all the little tchotchkes on his desk, all gold of course. He’s dressed in a fancy suit, one of those Italian designers probably, and his shirt is pink and silk.
“So, Miss Press – it states here on your curriculum vitae that you graduated top of your class at NYU”, he reads, looking up at Christen in a way that makes her feel like he’s appraising her.
“Um, yes, sir. I double majored in Journalism and Marketing”.
“Why the double major?”
“Well, I… I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I’ve always loved writing and conducting research, but I’ve always been fascinated by marketing, you know – getting into the heads of the consumer and finding ways to get the right products to the right people”.
“And do you still feel like you cannot decide between the two?”, he asks.
“No”, Christen shakes her head. “Now I know that I want to be a journalist – writing is just something that makes me happy”.
Donahue nods, putting her resume down and leaning back in his cushy office chair. Christen notices for the first time that he has his nails painted the same shade of pink as his shirt. Crystal explained that she’d meet some interesting characters here. Donahue seems tame, though – like a cool, gay uncle.
“We’re looking for someone who knows how to conduct research”, he says, fingertips tapping on his desk. “A lot of people think we just write about clothes here, but that is not true. I mean, we do only write about clothes, but we do it with a care and a love that very few people will ever understand. When you work here, you don’t have to love fashion…”
Christen nods, thinking, well that’s a relief.
“… but you have to love attention to detail, you have to love telling truths. You have to love coming in here every single day and crafting this magazine from cover to cover”.
“I understand—”
“You wouldn’t just be a copywriter here, Miss Press. You have to be the best copywriter here – you get what I’m saying?”
“A-absolutely, sir”, Christen says with a nod.
She likes this—sure it’s still a fashion magazine that sells an illusion to too many woman and naïve young girls, but she likes that she’ll work somewhere with the highest standards, somewhere her mind and her love of the finer details will be appreciated.
“I’ve interviewed six other people for this post”, Donahue then informs her, searching for her eyes. “And they’re all qualified, all with outstanding resumes. Yours is exceptional, but you don’t have a lot of experience working in the fashion industry”.
“I know, Mr Donahue, but—but I’m a hard worker and I’ll learn. I don’t mind being the first one in and the last one out”, Christen begins. She’s not lying either – she doesn’t have that much of a social life and if she gets this job, it’ll probably be the only thing she does with her time. “I am loyal, I am more than capable, I’m a perfectionist. I can be a huge asset to the magazine”.
The man smiles slightly, pushes his chair back and gets up. “You’ve given me much to consider, Miss Press. Thank you”.
“Um, sure… of course”, Christen says as she gets out of her seat, too. She has no idea how this interview actually went, but it didn’t feel too shitty. “Thank you for your time, sir”.
“And yours”, he says and opens the door. “We’ll let you know in due time – positive or otherwise”.
“Thank you”, she repeats, offering a smile.
“Oh, clear braces – how…chic”, Donahue says and nods down at her.
No one’s ever called her braces chic, so Christen doesn’t quite know how to respond, but she smiles and nods her head. “Thank you”.
“I’m sorry, but—I have to ask”, Donahue than begins, his eyes dancing with excitement. “How is it that someone like… like you… wants to work at Luxe Magazine? I mean, you’re… not very…”
Christen nods her head. “I know, I’m not your usual demographic, but I do respect that you strive for excellence here”.
Donahue nods, a wry smile spreads over his lips. “So, it has nothing to do with the fact that Heath Publishing & Media is our parent company?”
Christen feels the heat on her face, knows that she’s been found out a little here. She looks away meekly. “It… did factor into my decision to apply here”, she admits softly.
HPM is head of a large number of publications – and runs one of the most successful online news networks in the country. But New York City News Network is notoriously hard to get into – and Christen’s been strategizing on how to get a foot in the door since her first year of college.
If she managed to get a job here, she’d have an in.
“Ah, well I guess I solved the mystery as to why someone with your educational background would want to work as copywriter here then”, Donahue says with a wry chuckle. “Listen, darling, I don’t blame you. In fact, I think it’s very clever”.
“So, I’m not out of the running for the job just yet?”, Christen asks carefully.
“You might have just taken the lead”, he says with a wink. “Have a nice day”.
-
Christen’s first day feels like it’s a movie playing out in front of her – not like she’s actually part of what’s going on.
Donahue meets her in the foyer – red shirt complemented by red nails of course – and he takes her down to the basement.
“Now, don’t be alarmed, but this is where you will be working”, he says in a playful tone. “Our copywriters, researchers, social media people are all down here”.
Christen nods, having already received all of this information from Crystal.
The entire building is dedicated to HPM, and Luxe takes up the first four floors – the ground floor is the foyer, first floor is for the assistants, second floor is for HR, PR and marketing. Then the third floor is for the creatives – the Fashion editors, the writers and columnists and the stylists. Finally, the fourth floor is where all the executive offices are. The real power is on that fourth floor. And at the very top, it’s the proverbial promised land – New York City News Network HQ.
Christen’s a basement dweller – the furthest from the real power. But she’s in the building, and right now that’s all that matters.
“You’ll have a computer and a phoneline and a cubicle – everything you need to spring into action”, Donahue says.
“Thank you, sir”. She offers a small smile. “I just… I wanna ask, and hopefully I’m not speaking out of turn—”
“Mm, you are, but go ahead”.
“Okay, well… why did you decide to hire me?”, she asks in a small voice.
When she had gotten the e-mail, it felt like a dream. She was so convinced that Luxe would’ve just gone with someone with more experience, someone who fit their aesthetic better.
“You see this job as a stepping stone”, the man says with a casual shrug.
“And that’s a good thing?”
“It means that you’ll work twice as hard to try and get out of here”, he says. “And I like that in an employee. I was once the guy who got sent out to get the coffees for everyone and look at me now”.
Her cubicle is at the very end of the hallway and it’s across from another one, already occupied by a tall, pale woman with dark brown hair.
Donahue leaves her there with a pat on the shoulder and a ‘welcome to the team’ – and once he’s gone and she’s settled into her chair, she finally feels grounded in some sort of realism again. The credits have rolled, the movie is over and she has to get to work.
“Hi”, she hears coming from behind her.
Looking over her shoulder, she gives the tall brunette a smile. “Hi, I’m Christen”.
“Tierna, nice to meet you”.
“Same”.
“Copywriter, huh?”
“Yeah – and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do”, Christen admits. “This is my first real office job”.
“Oh, where’d you work before this?”, Tierna asks, voice and eyes still friendly and not at all like Jessica’s or Celia’s.
“Olive Garden”, Christen answers with a shrug.
Tierna smiles and gives a nod. “If you can manage that, you can manage this”.
Just then, another woman walks up to them, standing in the middle of their cubicle. “Name’s Rose. You must be the new girl, right?”
“Christen, yeah”, she says, shaking Rose’s hand.
“Welcome under the bridge”, Rose says, handing Christen a flip-folder.
“The bridge?”
“It’s what we call this place”, Tierna explains. “We’re the trolls under the bridge – upstairs it’s the castle”.
“We do the real work, they sit up there and look pretty”, Rose scoffs. “Those are product descriptions for the new issue. They’ve asked you to sweeten it up a little”.
Christen nods, flipping through the file. “Face creams? I’m not very familiar with any of these”.
“Guess that’s where the research comes in then”, Rose says with a shrug. “You can check with Dina, she’ll give you a company card to go buy these and do you own research”.
“Who’s Dina?”, Christen asks and suddenly feels so lost and overwhelmed by all this new information and all these new names.
“She works in merch – three cubicles over”, Tierna clears up. She then turns to Rose. “She’s new – don’t give her such a hard time”.
“No, no – I can handle it”, Christen says quickly. “Dina, company card, face creams. Is there a deadline for this?”
“End of the day”.
She nods and gets out of her chair. “Guess I better get a move on then”.
“Oh, she’ll be fine”, Rose says with a chuckle, turning on her heel and walking out their little corner of the hallway.
Christen only sees Crystal for the first time when it’s lunch. She’s been so busy already, buying four different brands of face creams and doing write-ups on each one. It’s nothing like how she thought this job would be, but it’s also been rather fun. It’s challenging because she’s so far removed from what she would actually want to do, but she likes that it’s challenging, she likes that she’s out of her comfort zone.
“There she is!”, Crystal calls out, grabbing Christen by the wrist. “How are you feeling? How’s day one going?”
Christen smiles and nods affirmingly. “It’s not terrible”.
“I told you, didn’t I?”, her best friend asks in a chuckle. “Now come on, let’s go get lunch”.
The canteen was somewhere on the ground floor, Christen isn’t yet clear on where everything is because the place is huge. Everyone who works at Luxe gets canteen privileges at a nominal fee at the end of the month, so they grab sandwiches, salads and juice and find a nice, quiet place to sit.
“How many people work here?”, Christen asks as she twists open her juice.
“A lot, girl, I have no idea. It’s big, right?”
“Yeah, I mean there must be, like, fifty in the basement alone”.
Crystal nods. “But now you’re finally in – and Operation NYC News Network is a go”, she says and gives Christen’s hand a squeeze. “Though it’ll probably take you a while before you even meet Hannah”.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I want to meet the editor-in-chief right now anyway”, Christen laughs. “But if she’s my way into securing a meeting with the head of recruitment at NYC News Network—”
“Oh, Hannah is the person you wanna get a hold of. The editor-in-chief is pretty close with the Heaths”, Crystal explains, taking a bite of her ham and cheese. “Apparently Luxe is one of their favourite publications – probably because it’s the most glamourous. I mean, I know you like the News Network and all, but Luxe is what keeps HPM cool and part of the zeitgeist, you know? Hannah has a great working relationship with Cindy Heath”.
“The head of HPM?”, Christen asks with a furrowed brow. “The head of HPM comes here?”
“Well, her office is on the fifteenth floor of the building, it’s not like she’s never around”, Crystal says with a chuckle. “Anyway – just keep doing your job… and before you know it, you’ll be on that fourth floor”.
Christen smiles, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. This is a longshot – and it might not even go the distance in the end, but if she keeps working hard, then maybe this could lead to bigger and better things. Maybe this could lead to her dream investigative journalist job, to her Pulitzer Prize.
“Let me navigate the basement first”, she jokes, sticking her plastic fork into her green salad. “And please tell me if I have arugula in my braces after this”.