by Young
This astonishing revelation was more surprising than Helius’s confession. We stared at the Junior, not knowing what to make of this mystifying turn of events.
Sam continued to confess unapologetically, “I had eyes for Helius the day he entered Daltonbury, but I didn’t know how to handle my dubiety. I wrestled heftily with my homoerotic feelings. In exasperation, I bullied the Freshman. I thought I could ditch my licentious thoughts by accosting the object of my affection. Instead, my harassment threw me into profound disarray. Most nights, I cried myself to sleep. I hated myself for hurting the person I want to love.”
The Junior paused to wipe his tears before he resumed, “After Young confronted me, I finally make peace with myself. Thanks to all of you, I learn to cherish the object of my affection rather than to destroy the person I love.”
Unable to contain his tears, Samuel held Helius’ hand and planted an affectionate kiss on his palm.
“Will you forgive me, Helius?” he muttered and gazed at the lad.
The Freshman was as baffled as the rest of us. He remained silent when Sam announced, “I love you, Helius. Will you accept me as your boyfriend?”
Silence fell over our party. None of us knew what to say.
The adolescent quipped, “Sam, I forgive you, and I will be your boyfriend as long as you don’t bully me.”
We burst into merriment.
John sallied, “The two of you are so endearingly special and a treasure to be with.”
Lucas said concernedly, “Why didn’t you come to me for advice, Sam? I could have helped you through your blustery predicament.”
“I know you will provide me with sound advice, but I need to come to terms with myself, my sexuality and to reconcile with my emotional upheaval. No one can help me but me,” the Junior explicated.
Without further ado, Samuel kissed Helius passionately in front of us and threw the Freshman into a state of unanticipated discombobulation.
We cheered and congratulated the loving duo as we frolicked within the blossoming gardens of Osborne House.
Put On The Ritz (Chapter Sixty-Six)
“I love Paris in the Springtime.”
Cole Porter
Mid-March 1969
Ritz Paris, France
The smell of spring was abloom in and out of the Rolls Royce, courtesy of the Ritz Paris, that came to collect us at the Roissy. As Big-Brother John had predicted, the Freshman and the Junior pestered Andy, and I to take them to the City of Romance. The lovebirds inveigled that they would learn treasured lessons of love from the seasoned amorati - my lover and moi. And what better place to ascertain that affaire de coeur but in La Ville de L’amour (The City of Love). In short, they did not want to return home for their Spring recess. Neither Samuel or Helius have been to the French capital before, nor do they have knowledge of my Valet and my Enlightened Royal Oracle Society’s assignments, we were careful not to reveal our secret avocations to the boys. Even though the pair were currently under E.R.O.S. observation and Samuel was once a potential candidate until he jeopardized his recruitment admission; we had no intention of disclosing the fraternity’s secret activities to our charges.
After Samuel’s kokuhaku 告白 (Japanese for Love Confession) to Helius, the Junior had metamorphosed from a rogue to a gentleman. Not only did their union bond their relationship, but Samuel also took on the protector’s role to his lover. He had matured from his prankish self and was conscientiously perceptive to his boyfriend and friends. His transformation prompted John, Andy and me to re-nominate the lad’s entrée to the Enlightened Royal Oracle Society. The E.R.O.S. authorities’ pronouncement was for the three of us to further monitor the Junior. To make sure that he would not fall back into his disruptive habits. The best way to surveil his conduct was to engage Sam in assay situations. If his reciprocal actions prove to be propitiously sanguine, E.R.O.S. committee would then consider his ingress. Although my Valet and my time in Paris was a vacation, we were also on a covert mission to review the Junior and Freshman’s behaviors.
My ex-private tutor and sports trainer, Herr Curt Eberhardt greeted us at the lobby of the Ritz Paris. After a solicitous round of French salutations, Eberhardt enquired jovially, “Who are these good looking boys you have with you?”
“Let me introduce - Samuel and Helius. It’s their first time in Paris,” my chaperone established.
“They are our Daltonbury Hall schoolmates,” I injected.
“Are the two of you a couple?” the Sportsman queried.
Since Sam had never been subjected to such an inquiry, he did not know how to respond. He turned away abashed.
On the contrary, Helius directed his response to the professor. “Do we look like a couple?”
Curt declared amusingly, “Boys, I’m pulling your legs. Come with me, our party is expecting you in the Floral Garden.”
He beckoned us to follow.
In the Floral Garden
When we entered the private jardin, workmen were busy working on the finishing touches to the Swarovski Fashion Extravaganza. As if I had stepped into a magical wonderland, large pink Madonna lilies enticed me into the diaphanous marquee. Tiny Swarovski crystals encased the center of each blossom like glittering jewels ready for pollination while gleaming swan-shaped crystals hung like sparkling birds above our heads.
A pristine runway sat in the middle of the enormous chamber. Its peripheries adorned with rubicund lilies with pellucid Swarovski “pollens.” As if expenses were left unchecked, images of oversized Swarovski Swan emblems lured the consumer into the company’s sybaritical universe; where fashion, beauty, elegance, and sophistication reign supreme.
Neither Andy, our companions nor I had witnessed such polished prodigality. We were blown away by this scrumptious display of unrestrained grandeur.
Mrs. Andrea Swarovski was next to us before we could absorb the rich details of this fantasyland.
“I’m glad you boys made it to Paris. I wasn’t sure if you were coming?” she promulgated.
Although she was aware that my chaperone and I would not miss this once in a lifetime event, I realized that her air talk was uttered by one who had one too many. Mario stepped in before her tipsiness took hold.
The fashion photographer chirped excitedly, “Nice to see you guys again.”
He noticed our charges and added, “And who are these two gorgeous young men?”
He ogled at Samuel and Helius.
The boys looked away in embarrassment.
“This is Helius and Samuel, our schoolmates. It’s their first time in Paris,” Andy introduced.
Before my chaperone could continue, the Count offered, “I’ll be happy to show these gorgeous specimens the City of Romance. Let’s have dinner at Au Chien Qui Fume. I’m sure they’ll love the place.”
Like Mario, Tad was also smitten by our friends.
The athlete chimed, “Au Chien Qui Fume is an excellent start. After dinner, we’ll go to G for some fun.”
There and then, Andy and I made it a point to inform the Count and our Arabian patriarchs in private, that our charges were as yet, not E.R.O.S. initiates but were under the fraternity’s observation.
“Young, come with me. I would like to introduce you to the best fashion show choreographer and organizer, Galvin Seamon. I’m sure the both of you will have a lot in common,” Mario, the fashion savant, announced.
We left our charges in the company of Andrea, Tad, and Curt, and followed the Count backstage.
At the back of the marquee was a sizeable enclosure with rows of clothing racks, portable tables, and an assemblage of full-length mirrors. While the tables toted a cornucopia of beauty items; from wigs, hairpieces, and hair accessories to assortments of makeup products; the mobile trestles along the peripheries held a significant number of sparkling gowns carefully covered in transparent garment bags.
An animated maestro directed a contingent of cackling models, hair, and makeup artists at the far end of the room. While the artists p
erpetuated the model’s specific aesthetics to each participant, the choreographer dispensed the show’s procedures to his team.
As soon as the doyen saw the Count, he approached our group and greeted the photographer with kisses on both cheeks.
The maestro inquired cheerfully, “Qu’est-ce qui vous amène en coulisse, mon cher ami? (what brings you backstage, my dear friend?)”
“J’aimerais vous présenter deux de mes amis, d’Angleterre (I like to introduce you to a couple of my friends from England).”
The Count gave the man a pat on the back before he resumed, “C’est Young et son chaperon, Andy. Les jeunes n’est mon fashion protege. Je crois que les deux d’entre vous ont beaucoup en commun pour discuter (This is Young and his chaperone, Andy. Young is my fashion protege. I believe the both of you will have a lot in common to discuss).”
The virtuoso greeted Andy and me with pecks on both cheeks as he did with the Count.
“I am Galvin. Call me Gal. It is nice to meet fresh faces in the industry. I’ve been in fashion for many years,” he declared in thick French-accented English.
“I’ve known Mario for a long time, and we’ve collaborated on many projects. I’ll be happy to assist you,” the Frenchman added.
The seasoned fashion doyen glanced at his pal for his reaction.
Since I was enthralled by the workings of a major fashion presentation, I complimented the maestro sheepishly, “I am bedazzled by your sweeping production before it has even begun.”
“It’s going to be a fabulous show. Tout simplement FABULEUX!” Galvin answered jovially and threw his hands in the air to emphasize his vehemence.
I took the opportunity to ask Monsieur Seamon, “How do you even begin to arrange an elaborate show like this?”
“From experience, boy. From experience,” Galvin replied exuberantly.
Before the doyen could explain the inner workings of putting together a prime fashion event, Andy pulled Mario aside to inform him of Helius and Samuel’s status quo.
They left the virtuoso and me to our fashion talk.
As soon as my chaperone and the Count departed, Monsieur Seamon resumed enliveningly, “Putting on a ritzy fashion event is exciting. It’s like an artist creating a masterpiece. First, I meet my clients to discuss their needs, desires, and what they want to achieve from the presentation. Then we work on a theme and concept. This really gets my creative juice flowing.”
Gal paused to catch his breath before he continued, “For an established fashion company like Swarovski, I took their firm’s emblem – The Swan and decorated the ballroom’s interior with swan-shaped crystals to showcase the Swarovski logo. I also worked closely with the fashion designers they collaborate with, to come up with the presentation’s overall theme.”
I chirped, “It must be an effortless endeavor to put on a show when money is no object.”
The man declared precariously, “Here is where you are wrong. All shows have a budget. I have to prove my worth and convince my client that I am the right person for the job, and I can deliver the product within or below the cost of the allocated amount.”
He smiled mischievously before he resumed, “First, I sell them on my creativity. I jot down a list of ideas that complement and will create a media buzz for the corporation; even if my vision may seem absurd or impossible to accomplish. Then, I select two to three cohesive and impactful concepts to present to the client….
He paused to recollect an event he had done.
“A few months ago, I did an impromptu fashion event in New York for Christian Dior’s designer, Marc Bohan. Everything was kept a secret until the last minute when distinguished guests and reporters received a personal call to tell them where to show up. Suddenly, everything came to life at this abandoned railway station – the music, models, and backdrop materialized in a split second,” the maestro recalled.
“Without the paparazzi getting wind of it, I prepared that event for a month and managed to keep it under wraps. It was fun to pull off a phenomenon like that and make it a success,” Galvin announced proudly.
“Did the Dior customers like your extemporaneous function?” I inquired.
“Of course, they did. The presentation is everything. I conferred with Marc, Dior’s business associates, their marketing and public relations team and they loved my killer proposition. They know my love and enthusiasm for fashion, and I’m known for my excellent show productions,” the virtuoso proclaimed before he added, “After I landed the gig and with the approved budget, I look for the best people in my industry to work with. Like the front and back of house showrunners, the head dresser and crew, essential hair and makeup experts, and a sharp sound and lighting company. Last but by no means least, a skilled graphics and printing house, and a competent social media firm which most established fashion brands already have. Like a jigsaw puzzle, all these factors must gel together to create my presentation vision.”
I questioned, “What happens after you’ve formulated your team?”
“I prepare the posit for the company to approve and sign off for production work to begin. I work with the venue personals to coordinate load-in and out schedules, and union rules and restrictions that may apply. I make sure that the stage design is appropriately scaled and impactful within the allocated space. It is crucial to have sufficient room in the press-pit for the paparazzi to set up their media equipment without hindrance,” the maestro advised.
“Wow! That’s a lot of work to handle,” I expressed.
The choreographer specified, “That’s not all, boy. I also work closely with the promotion and marketing team in the pre-show press coverage. The guest list is imperative especially when we have to accommodate celebrity and VIP clients and significant store buyers.
“For the fashion show to flow smoothly, I create a ‘show-flow’ chart for the front and backstage crews.”
“What is a ‘show-flow’ chart?” I questioned.
“It is a communication outline of what is to happen, when, and who is responsible for what. It is also a general information sheet for the show’s run through. It comprises of dates/times/venues for model fittings, and it also consists of visual information on how the clothes, accessories are worn by each model,” Seamon explained.
I posted, “How long do fashion shows generally last?”
The organizer enjoined, “Usually, it is between seventeen to twenty minutes to present fifty to seventy ‘Looks.’ No more than half-an-hour.
“At the Swarovski show you will see tomorrow; each model has three changes. Since everything happens at lightning speed, the front and backstage coordination must work like clockwork. Under my supervision, no mistakes are allowed.”
I inquired curiously, “Does the same format apply to haute couture fashion shows too?”
“That is an astute question, young man,” the maestro remarked before he counseled, “Haute couture presentations is a unique case. Couture houses can afford to hire one model per ‘Look.’ Most likely, there will be fifty to seventy models in one show without clothing changes for the mannequins.”
The Count and my Valet returned before the maestro could continue his fashion counseling.
Mario joshed, “You guys are still at it? I knew the both of you would have a lot to talk about. Unfortunately, I must snatch this cutie away to rejoin our entourage. I’m sure he will corner you tomorrow after the show with more questions.”
I thanked Monsieur Seamon for his valuable advice. He gave me a devious wink and whispered in my ear, “Je vais réclamer mon droit de consultation à une date ultérieure (I will claim my counseling fee at a future date).”
Before I left, I winked at the rogue. He gave my buttocks a flirtatious slap and send me on my way.
The Power of Love (Chapter Sixty-Seven)
“In the house of lovers, the music never stops, the walls are made of songs and the floor dances.”
Rumi
March 1969
At Au Chien Qui Fume (Dog That Sm
oke), Paris, France
As soon as our party was seated at Au Chien Qui Fume, Helius enquired, “Why are there so many pictures of dogs smoking on the walls?”
Mario broke into laughter and expressed, “Haven’t you notice that Paris is a city that loves dogs?”
The tipsy Mrs. Swarovski added, “Way back in the 20s, the owner of this restaurant showed off his cigar smoking poodle and pipe puffing griffin to his customers. Soon the restaurant became known as Au Chien Qui Fume - Dog That Smoke.”
“Are you kidding?” Samuel chirped in disbelieve.
Andrea resumed amusingly, “It’s true. This is part of the restaurant’s charm to have the walls covered with pictures of dogs smoking.”
Tad declared, “This restaurant has been here since I could remember. It serves a plethora of delicacies, like its mouthwatering oyster and shell dishes. The excellent selection of wines is beyond compare.”
Mario asserted, “Back to the question of dogs; they are not only man’s best friend, but they are also man’s best love. Their loyalty is irrefutable. I can’t say that of humans.”
Samuel gave Helius a smirky smile as if he would never betray his boyfriend. The Freshman looked away shyly.
My Valet commented, “So sweet! The heroic beauty of young love.”
Andy glanced at me as if to refer to our affaire de coeur. I avoided my Valet’s gaze. Although his statement held truth, there were instances when I doubted if I could reciprocate my lover’s, unfading love.
“Love is many splendor things. It touches us in a variety of compassionate, romantic, sensual, and companionable ways. Not only are these varied manifestations life-enriching, but it is also profoundly transformational,” Eberhardt imbued.
“That is indeed true,” Andy seconded before he added, “I attest to that.”