Forever Changed

 Designer clothes were my life. Clothes as a gift? No name, in the trash it goes. No designer name on the tag was like a man without a penis. I woul have rather hung myself than to wear no name clothing. This is my story.

 My name is Samantha Gordon. I had just turned nineteen the fall before and spent my entire birthday walking up and down New York Avenue. I spent every last penny in my account on designer clothes. Fendi, Channel, Elle Saab, Marc Jacobs, you name it. They were all in my closet by 2 a.m.: the time I got back from shopping. I had lived in a small apartment on the east side of Manhattan ever since I turned eighteen with a roommate: Lola, a coworker at my new job. I told my mother I was moving there because of school, but I suppose you know the real reason why. I worked as a fashion editor for the magazine Vogue at the time, and it was a blast. I was living my dream. What I didn't know, was that my life would forever change that summer.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 "Sam, hurry up! You're gonna make us late again!" Lola yelled from the bathroom where she was blow-drying her shiny blond hair.

 "Just a minute," I said mostly to myself as I adjusted the straps of my new Marc Jacobs dress. Lola hurriedly came in as she was pinning up her hair.

 "Sam, you've been standing in front of that mirror for half an hour. Trust me, you look fine."

 "I don't wanna look fine, Lola! I wanna look...glamorous."

 "Glamorous or not, Sam, if we don't walk out that door right now, you're gonna be spending your summer vacation looking for a new job."

 "Okay! I;m ready anyway. Come on! We're gonna be late!"

 Lola rolled her eyes.

 We entered the doors to Vogue Magazine at six past seven. Marge, our boss, was waiting for us with her arms across her chest, tapping her fingers on her forearm. Oh, what a promt British woman she was. Stern, yet sweet.

 "And what, may I ask, has delayed you two once again?"

 "Sorry, Marge. But come on, give us a break, it;s New York isn't it?" Lola tried.

 "New York my bottom! You live just down the block!" She scolded as she turned around and walked down the hall towards her office, us following.

 "Ha, worth a try." Lola said to me.

 We entered her office. She took her place behind her desk and sat down. "Well girls," She said as she placed her hands on her desk, "Pack your bags and don't forget your coat." Lola and I exchanged glances.

 "Why?" Lola said cauciously. "Mrs. Robb, are you letting us go?" Marge was smiling.

 "Suprisingly, no. Today's your lucky day, girls, You're going to England."

 "England?" I repeated.

 "Yes, London. For an interview."

 "Interview? Who are we interviewing?"

 "A model. And a well known one, actually: Kate Moss."

 "Kate Moss?! Oh, you can't be serious! Lola, did you hear that? We're going to England and have an inteview with Kate Moss!" I looked over to Lola to see her sitting there with her mouth wide open.

 "Well, Lola, haven't you anything to say about this?" Marge asked.

 "Oh my God, Marge, thank you sooooo much! But...why us?" She said.

 "Do you want to go or not Lola?"

 "Of course! I just never thought that me out of all the hard working people that've been working here longer than me and whom are never late would get to go to London and all, and oh my god, don't forget-"

 "Lola!" Marge and I said in synchrony.

 "Sorry!" Lola turned to me and we squealed. "Sam we're going to London!"

 We soldiered on through the rest of the week at a snail's pace; trudging aroung like zombies. Out minds were blank, only a single word lingerd: London. Over and over again. London. London. London. Finally, friday came around the corner. I nearly got hit by some bald guy in a truck while running across the crosswalk long before the "go" appeared on the flasher. The wheels skidded to a stop as he pressed down on hos horn wildly, yellin insanities out the window. 'Sorry! We're going to London!' I yelled as I reached the curb. I knew Lola was rolling her eyes behind me.

 I nearly broke the zipper on my fifth luggage (which was Dolci n Gabbana I might add) asI stuffed the that pair of leather Steve Maddens into it. Lola walked in.

 "You've got to be kidding me."

 "Lola, don't you start judging me," I said, "I need this stuff."

 She sighed. "Alright, whatever, it's your problem if you get charged $500 on extra luggage."

 We managed to make it eleven minutes early to our plane in JFK Internationl Airlines and got comfortable seats although not in first class; Lola a window seat, mine in the middle section. I settled in for the seven hour flight to London, unknowing that I'd finally step onto British soil for the first time six months later.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_