From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Inadvertently, a glimpse of a thin, pale figure caught the corner of my eye, slightly restrained and shy. The feeling of "The Grudge" washed over me, and Anson was startled.

Calming down, Anson realized that the person in front of him was a real person, not Toshio. On the contrary, it was his own appearance that disturbed the other person's quiet little world.

"Ah, sorry."

Despite being a little shaken, Anson still politely apologized, and then realized the absurdity of the situation, and couldn't help but find it a little funny.

However, before Anson could continue speaking, the man's eyes fell on Anson's right hand, and he said in a weak voice, "The cut of these pants is a good challenge."

Pants?

Anson glanced at the jeans in his hand, "Oh, I like the washed color, but the cut... I haven't tried them on yet, so I don't know how they'll look."

In fact, these were straight-leg, slightly slim-fitting jeans, very common twenty years later. There was nothing special about them, so Anson was more interested in the color and craftsmanship. But what Anson didn't know was that in 2000, this type of cut was still relatively rare.

The man in front of him looked particularly thin and frail, his thin body seeming to be just bones. He naturally exuded a rock-and-gothic vibe, but his attire was not complicated, a clean combination of a white shirt and jeans, faintly carrying a hint of academia.

He looked Anson up and down.

His gaze was clear and professional, not making people uncomfortable, but there was a hidden sense of nakedness. Anson had never met a professional tailor before, was this what it felt like?

"This cut is relatively close-fitting, suitable for types with straight and slender thighs, like you."

"You can try rolling up the cuffs twice, using the lining to create a color difference, presenting layers, and then pairing them with sneakers, low-top flats."

"The overall proportion will look very good, highlighting your advantages."

A hint of interest flashed in Anson's eyes, "Wow, you can get so much information just from one glance?"

The thin man gave a shallow smile in response, but didn't speak.

Anson's idea was a white shirt, not the formal kind, but something more casual and relaxed, with the sleeves rolled up, paired with sunglasses and a watch, appearing light and simple on the surface, but actually hiding details, showing composure in front of the media.

After all, going to the studio on Monday was for filming, no need to be too formal.

Or he could go in another direction, choosing a sporty style, short sleeves and shorts, board shoes and long socks, and then stepping onto the stage on a skateboard, completely showing the youthfulness of an eighteen-year-old, standing at the extreme of a different style from Brad Pitt, giving the media an unconventional impression in this way.

But that might seem too street and too childish, leading to being underestimated by the media.

"Excellent choice."

The thin man's voice came again.

This time Anson wasn't surprised. He looked down at the off-white shirt he had chosen—

"This is Mǐ Tōng cloth."

"Like Oxford cloth, the warp and weft yarns are matched with different colors, often colored warp and white weft. The warp yarn of this one is beige, creating a visual effect of different layers of finished color, and finally presenting a checkered pattern, with a bit of casualness in the formality."

"You can pair it with a neckerchief, that's the classic Parisian afternoon tea look."

Not fast, not slow, the speech wasn't rushed, but every word entered the ears.

Anson raised his eyebrows slightly, "So, you're a professional?"

The man just shrugged, but smiled without speaking, not answering Anson's question.

Anson didn't mind, "I think it's a bit too formal. It's not that this outfit isn't suitable for formal occasions, but that this kind of dress shows traces of effort."

"Dressing up but looking like you haven't dressed up at all," this is the most popular style on social media platforms in the future, and there is a subtle line here.

Now, Anson needed to find this line, not letting the media see that he had already prepared.

Even so, Anson still kept the off-white shirt. Just as the man in front of him said, this kind of outfit was actually very suitable for afternoon tea. If there were no other suitable options, then adopting this combination, but putting some effort into the accessories, could still achieve the goal.

Then.

Anson picked up an indigo blue shirt.

He didn't have professional knowledge of fabrics, styles, etc. After all, he had never tried working in the fashion industry. He had learned painting since he was a child, and had his own understanding of colors and lines, which also laid the foundation for his thinking about aesthetics. He just vaguely liked the layers and temperament of this shirt.

"Oh."

A murmur came from his ear. Anson actively looked over, and then he could see a glimmer of interest in the man's eyes. This should be his most vivid and lively expression so far, which surprised Anson a little, "What's wrong? Is there something wrong with this shirt?"

The man supported his chin with his right hand, carefully scrutinizing, "Wow, you have your own taste. I like it."

Blunt, direct.

Anson laughed heartily.

The man continued to speak.

"This is flower yarn cloth."

"In the spinning stage, different colors of fibers are mixed together, so that a single yarn forms irregular color changes. The fabric woven from this kind of yarn will create a visual effect of noise in the color, increasing the sense of layering. This irregularity is a style that Italian shirts like very much."

"Um… I have an idea…"

The man raised his eyes to look at Anson's eyes, the eyes that had been examining Anson's frame, proportions, and figure, finally appeared in front of him.

Clear. Bright. Like a reed marsh under a cloudless sky, a gentle breeze blowing, stirring up layers of shallow waves.

"Sorry, may I try something?"

At this time, a hint of interest flowed out of those eyes, emotions surged, and the whole face became bright.

Anson raised his eyebrows, "Of course, no problem."

Before the words fell, the man quickly busied himself, and after three or five seconds, he quickly walked over with a pair of pants and handed them to Anson.

Talking to himself, "Yes, that's it. You can create different styles according to the choice of shoes. Wow, I didn't expect that."

The reason it was talking to himself was because he didn't expect Anson to communicate at all. After speaking, he raised his eyes.

"Hedi Slimane. Maybe you can try this kind of combination."

Uh.

After saying those words, the man seemed to realize his recklessness, and quickly took a step back, widening the distance, but didn't continue to speak.

From the struggle and hesitation in his expression, it could be seen that he might be thinking about whether he should apologize, and whether he should explain his behavior. Different thoughts pulled in his mind, and for a while, he couldn't sort out his thoughts, so in the end, it evolved into this—

Silence.

Making the atmosphere awkward for no reason.

Anson didn't mind, but showed a smile, "Anson Wood."