From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Taking a deep breath, Steven tried to calm himself down, though it wasn't easy—

The constraints and restrictions of the fashion show tightly bound his hands and feet, even more torturous than an awards ceremony, not to mention sitting in the front row enduring the baptism of gazes and flashing lights; he simply felt he didn't belong here.

Agony.

Utter agony.

Then, Tom's voice reached his ears, prompting Steven to adjust his posture, straightening his back slightly, gathering all his scattered thoughts. Before he could even look at the runway, his hearing captured the sound first.

Hmm?

As a director, Steven was very sensitive to the three-dimensional experience created by the collision of visuals and audio, which was the unique charm of film.

Now, at the fashion show, it was no different. He immediately noticed a psychedelic and dazzling electronic drum beat in the background music, mesmerizing—

“Welcome to your life, there's no turning back, even while we sleep, we will find you acting on your best behavior, turn your back on mother nature…”

Steven was stunned. This was…

This was “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” released by the rock band Tears for Fears in 1985, and still one of the greatest and most legendary golden hits of the eighties.

Sure enough—

“Everybody wants to rule the world…”

The song, in a cheerful and psychedelic way, expressed the inner madness, as well as the fear and brokenness behind the madness, conveying the unease and anxiety about the Cold War at that time. Although there were no stimulating words in the lyrics, it vividly displayed the sadness in the light and jumping chaos.

Steven never expected that Hedi Slimane would choose this song as the opening background music, immediately setting the tone for the entire show.

Immediately afterward, the models appeared—

Cliché?

No, not at all.

The suit and trousers were made of silk fabric with a draping texture, flowing down the body like flowing water, softly and snugly wrapping the body; not 100% fitted, but meticulously and accurately outlining the body proportions, the lines of the shoulders, arms, waist, and thighs clearly visible, inadvertently revealing a mixed, delicate, and fragile texture.

The shirt was no exception, without a collar, but with the neckline curled up like a wave, the buttons open, swaying gently and freely with the pace of progress, the body lines looming, but without any sense of sexiness, more of an uninhibited rebellion.

Clearly the simplest and most basic suit, yet it had a rock texture, without seriousness or restraint. Instead, it extracted the purity and simplicity of youth, and then bloomed in the black chrysanthemum proudly blooming on the left chest, cold and melancholic, romantic and wild, noble and ambiguous, swaying gently in the psychedelic electronic rock melody like smoke and mist.

One appearance, easily capturing the attention.

Even Steven, a complete layman in fashion, could feel the difference, a kind of temperament that he disliked or even scoffed at, that he couldn't explain but couldn't take his eyes off of, coming at him head-on.

One step. Another step.

The figure, coming towards him, the light and shadow naturally flowing over his face with his footsteps, and between the alternating light and dark, he could clearly feel the distinct lines of his facial features, the pair of clear and aloof azure blue eyes gradually brightening in the mist, as if he was the only one in the whole world.

—Anson Wood.

Steven was slightly stunned, his brain stopped working, and he could hardly react.

That, was Anson?

Different, completely different, completely different from the day at the studio and dinner, showing completely different temperaments.

His coldness and unruliness, his fragility and loneliness, his alienation and rebellion, were quietly hidden under the deep blue坚冰, but mixed with a kind of innocent purity and simple innocence, the charming temperament with a unique French texture, seemingly out of reach.

Is this really Anson?

“…There's got to be a point where light won't reach, holding hands while the walls come tumbling down, when they do I'll be right behind you. So glad that we have almost made it, so sad that they had to fade it, everybody wants to rule the world.”

The music was spinning and jumping, and the whole world was spinning with it, so crazy and so gorgeous, but uncontrollably sad—

As if Anson was fighting the whole world alone.

Eyes, ears, breath, heart, everything collided together, dragging Steven slowly down, his brain dizzy.

It wasn't until now that Steven remembered that Anson's mother was French, like Little Frank Abagnale.

Anson, walking alone on the runway, gathering the eyes of the world, his thin shoulders seemingly unable to bear the weight anymore.

However, his steps were so firm, his back so straight, the tenacity and uprightness radiating from the inside out firmly restrained the reins, maintaining the world with his own strength before it fell apart.

Little Frank Abagnale was the same.

He was just a child, hiding his fragility and pain in those empty and illusory splendors, running and escaping and rushing all the time, but not knowing when to stop or where to go.

The coldness and stubbornness in those eyes quietly overlapped.

Steven was completely stunned.

Anson passed in front of him like this, all the way forward, fixed at the end of the runway, the cold light stretching his figure long and old.

Then, finally!

The second figure finally appeared on the runway, joining Anson's ranks.

Red.

A dazzling and enchanting, flamboyant and unrestrained, gorgeous and wanton red debut, entering this black and white world in an unreasonable way, instantly igniting all the energy in the madness of the background music.

This…

Generally speaking, fashion design is often a series, decomposing different designs under similar settings, and often color is the most direct common point; however, Hedi broke the rules this time.

One red, two red, three red.

The subsequent series were all red suits, similar to Anson's version but with different details, and then surged like a red tide.

The intention was clear.

Not only crazy, but also flamboyant, wanton, and surging, the rolling red waves rushed towards Anson with open teeth and claws.

The stubbornness and fragility of that black color burst out with incredible power at this moment. Although more and more models appeared one after another, the eyes still couldn't help but look towards Anson.

Including Steven.

Under the spotlight, Anson finally turned around and faced the red tide head-on, a head-on collision.