“Well, that fucking sucks.”
“Yes. Hiring trans or gender fluid or even male models who are willing to model womenswear is seen as ‘edgy’. You know, part of the zeitgeist. The designers and their publicists get to talk to the press about how forward-thinking and liberal they are, while discarding any model bigger than a size two.”
“So, wouldn’t you want to be part of that? Ride the wave while it’s there.”
Stan shook his head. “I’m a really good fashion journalist, Ben. I want to be recognised for my talent, not because I’m fulfilling a diversity quota.”
“Oh.” Ben considered that for a moment. “I guess I get that.”
“How would you feel if you got a solo billboard or a magazine cover, but the only reason why they picked you and not any other member of Ares was because half your family are Maori?”
His face darkened. “That’s bullshit.”
“It is. And it’s hard to argue against, because yes, these companies should be hiring more people from backgrounds that aren’t white middle- and upper-class. But I’m going to stand my ground and fight for diversity based on talent, because there’s so much talent out there.” Stan sighed heavily. “Sorry. I get frustrated.”
“No, I get it. You are good. I’m sorry people aren’t recognising that.”
“They are,” Stan said mildly. “But changing my look helped me push for the recognition I wanted. I stopped being the boy in the dress and started being a journalist that people had to take seriously. They quickly realised that I wasn’t just a diversity hire that could be easily dismissed.”
“Why did you stay in Paris if that’s the attitude there?”
“Because the fashion scene in Paris is incredible,” Stan said with a shrug. “I love it. But I’ve also loved watching careers develop in New York. It’s still the only place to be during fashion week, and I broke through several times with reporting on different shows.”
“Make it there, you can make it anywhere,” Ben said with a smirk.
Stan laughed. “Exactly! And one day I’d like to work in Paris again, and I’d love to spend more time reporting on what’s happening in places in Africa, because seriously, Ben, some of the work that’s coming from African-influenced designers is just stunning. I’ve been planning a trip back to Nairobi for at least six months. But I think for the rest of my career, I’m going to have to be in New York twice a year at least.”
“But you want to come back and work in London again.”
Stan nodded and pulled his hair over his shoulder. “Yes, I think I do. I decided to leave London for good reasons, so I don’t regret that. Now seems to be a good time to be back, though. I’m at a different place in my career, and I think I can move forward here.”
“You’re famous,” Ben said, like he was only just realising it.
Stan shook his head. “No, I’m not. I’m seeing respect for what I do in the industry I work in. Which is nice, of course. You’re famous.”
Ben made a face. Stan laughed.
“It’s not…” Ben started, then shook his head.
“What?”
“It’s not what I wanted.”
“I know,” Stan said softly, carefully.
“I can’t say that without sounding so incredibly fucking ungrateful, though. I didn’t want it, and Stan… I lost.”
“You lost?”
“So much more than I gained.”
Stan turned his hand over and lifted it, palm up. After a moment, Ben slipped his hand into Stan’s and squeezed.
“You regret it,” Stan said.
Ben nodded, then made another face. “Sometimes. I think about where I would be if we hadn’t made it. Probably still here, probably still doing the same jobs we were doing before. I don’t even know if we’d still be playing together as a band.”
“I think you would,” Stan said, absently drawing patterns on the back of Ben’s hand, now he had it in his own.
“Yeah. Maybe. I hate where things are at the moment.”
“Have you spoken to them?”
Ben shook his head. “Not yet. I keep wanting to, but the last time I had a conversation with Jez, it turned into a massive row. I knew right from the start that this was their dream we were chasing. Summer and Jez in particular. Geordie was in it because Summer was, and Tone was in it for a laugh.”
“They’re a better band for you being with them.”
“Yeah. They used to say that all the time. It made it hard to back out. Especially after the first album.”
He fell silent, and Stan made a decision.
“Let’s go shopping,” he said, standing and pulling Ben to his feet at the same time.
“Where?”
“Bond Street.”
Ben made a face. “Jesus. Why would we do that?”
“Because I just got paid,” Stan lied easily. “And because all my nice clothes are in New York, and even though my roommate agreed to go into my room and ship me a bunch of stuff, it’s still going to be at least a week until I get it.”
That last part wasn’t a lie.
“I suppose we could do that.”
“You’re right,” Stan said, dropping Ben’s hand. “I used to dress up and look nice. And if I want to reclaim my stake on the London fashion scene, I need to look like I belong here.”
“And you want to go to Bond Street to do that?”
“It’s not a bad place to start,” Stan said with a smirk.
“How about Harrods?”
“How is that better?”
“Less… people.”
Stan decided not to push further. “We can go to Harrods. I haven’t been there in forever.”
“Okay.” Ben looked relieved. He pushed his hands into his pockets, but seemed to be standing a little taller.
Stan hailed a cab and waited until they were inside it before taking Ben’s hand again.
“Are you sure this is okay? We can always go home if you want.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “When have I ever not loved going shopping with you?”
Stan didn’t say anything to that and looked out of the window instead. But he was smiling.
They were dropped off right on Brompton Street amidst the bustle of a weekday afternoon in Kensington. It wasn’t as bad as it would be on the weekend, so that was something. Ben kept his head down, as was his habit these days. Stan had noticed.
Stan whisked them up to the first floor without pausing, keeping Ben moving so he wasn’t startled by anything. It was always calmer up here than the bustle of the ground floor, where the tourists roamed in equal numbers to the locals. Ben seemed to be coping okay. Stan hadn’t let go of his hand, and Ben hadn’t tried to get away. Stan liked feeling Ben’s hand in his, with its calluses from playing guitar and his long, strong fingers. He didn’t think about it too much. Just accepted that it felt right.
“What are we looking for?” Ben asked as Stan started wandering.
“A few staples, a few statement pieces,” Stan mused. “I need a pair of good black jeans.”
“You could always borrow these,” Ben said.