From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Did people anticipate this scene?

More than that!

To be precise, the entirety of Hollywood was anticipating this scene, anticipating that Anson could bring another surprise, anticipating witnessing a historic moment after a long period of foreshadowing and brewing, anticipating the moment when Anson would transform from a quantitative change to a qualitative change, breaking out of his cocoon and evolving into a fashion icon.

Without a doubt.

However, when this scene truly happened, people realized that they were not prepared.

Their minds were blank.

Even the roaring sounds gradually faded away above their eardrums, eventually disappearing into nothingness, leaving behind a silence as they quietly watched the scene before them.

Witnessing history.

At the front of the red carpet, Anson felt the solid ground beneath his feet, buttoning up his open suit one button at a time, slightly adjusting the hem of his suit, opening his shoulders, straightening his posture, and gently raising the corners of his mouth, showcasing his most perfect side—

Everything, is tonight.

Not the Oscars, not the Emmys, but precisely because it's the Golden Globes, the opportunity is rare.

Because this is the Golden Globes, where entertainment reigns supreme and stars gather, people are more willing to pay attention to scandalous news than to the awards themselves, and the stage shrouded in spotlights can become a moment of universal attention.

Because this is a crucial piece of the puzzle for building a fashion image, Anson clearly knows what the recent period of publicity and momentum will ultimately lead to.

Not just fashionistas, not just news media, but also industry colleagues with more critical and expectant eyes are also watching, waiting for the moment when quantitative change completes qualitative change.

Also because this is Anson's dedication to Hedi Slimane, after Anson and Dior ended their collaboration, a noisy buzz began to worry and even question Hedi's future, wondering if his designs would lack vitality and fail to meet people's expectations after losing his muse.

Hedi said, there's no need to care, because haters will never stop, isolating all controversy outside the door, wholeheartedly designing this cocoon-breaking moment look for Anson, eagerly anticipating Anson wearing it.

But Anson cares.

So, it's today.

Anson needs to show his best side, whether it's a mountain of knives or a sea of fire, or a tapestry of flowers, he will greet it with a smile.

A pause, an adjustment—

Stand firm.

At this moment, Anson also noticed the silence of the scene, as if it were a prank; but Anson was not flustered at all.

Not only was he not flustered, but the smile on the corner of his mouth gently rose, blooming under the golden sunlight, a kind of heartfelt lightness and joy spreading out:

Who could have imagined that such a scene could actually appear at the Golden Globe Awards ceremony?

Beneath his feet, golden sunlight and red flames rippled in gentle layers, as if stepping on everyone's heart, making their hearts tremble uncontrollably.

But no one could speak, and no one dared to easily break this silence. In the silence and stillness, one could feel the surging emotions becoming more and more roaring, more and more frantic, the blood almost burning the soul to ashes.

Suppression, endurance, tense to the extreme, like before a volcanic eruption.

Including inside the glass house.

Even Cindy, who had seen it all, was no exception, staring intently at the live broadcast screen, quickly realizing that this could not satisfy the longing of her eyes and heart. She turned her head, looked through the glass house, across the corridor, and captured that figure at the end of the red carpet.

She couldn't see the face or expression clearly, or even the figure and proportions, but she could feel a kind of aura, a kind of existence, easily standing out from the vast crowd, making all the surrounding beings unimportant.

One glance, ten thousand years.

The world, stopped turning.

Perhaps, only Anson was the exception. He walked as if strolling through the center of the Eternal City, unhurriedly and calmly walking through the frozen hustle and bustle, without cheers, without reactions, it didn't matter.

That demeanor, that bearing, that aura.

It was impossible to take your eyes off him.

Inadvertently, Anson's eyes met the eyes of an audience member, looking at that face caught in shock, the smile on the corner of his mouth gently rising, nodding in acknowledgment, a hint of joy flashing in his clear, bright eyes.

"…Anson."

The voice, just like that, rushed out of that girl's throat, muttering to herself, calling out in a low voice; yet it was like a magic spell from ancient times, awakening a sleeping dragon, sweeping out with lightning speed.

Then, it detonated.

Ah!

Mushroom cloud rising.

Ah, ah, ah!

Fervor, heaviness, sensation, leaving bursts of exploding echoes in the air.

Ah, ah, ah!

The volcano, finally detonated.

Slightly stunned, flashes of light vented, the sound of shutters rang out.

And, instantly pushed to the peak.

Click, click, click, click, click…

The whole world was dragged into a storm, leaving no time to react, leaving only a roar circling above the head.

Dizzy.

The world spun around.

From extreme silence to extreme noise, just as the hearing had just captured the impact of the sound, it was cut off the next second, leaving only the sound of the heart pounding, blood boiling, and the soul burning, quietly but brilliantly surging above the eardrum. Vision, touch, and smell perfectly felt the surging waves of the heat wave. The world disappeared into a chaos, leaving only one figure—

In the eyes, in the ears, in the heart, in the soul… all there was was Anson.

Unique.

That kind of shock, that kind of impact, was definitely a unique experience that would be unforgettable for a lifetime, even if you were in the midst of it, it was still hard to believe that all of this was unfolding.

This, is the demeanor of a superstar.

Those hoarse shouts, those tearful faces, those worships, all evolved into a cluster of dazzling and colorful halos, integrated into the sky and the earth's golden and red colors, reduced to a foil, firmly focusing on Anson.

The world, was already completely different.

Not just a fashion icon, but also breaking the boundaries of the fashion field, already becoming a landscape of Hollywood, like Leonardo DiCaprio back then, even better.

Angelina Jolie?

Who?

Was there anyone in front of him? Did anything happen in front that was worth discussing?

Even Halle Berry, who was still on the red carpet at this moment, turned to look at Anson with a surprised face, temporarily forgetting her interview.

"I love you!"

"Marry me!"

"You are the prince."

"I am willing to have monkeys for you."

"Ah, ah, ah."

All kinds of shouts, finally evolved into a simplest and most direct shout.

"Anson!"

Until now, Cindy finally understood that sentence in the fashion world:

The real top fashion is not people following the trend, but the trend following people. A piece of clothing is just a pile of fabric before it is worn by its true owner; but at the moment it meets the right object, it has life and becomes fashion.

Everyone understands the principle; but a fashion icon may only appear once in ten years.

Language has lost its power, and professional knowledge has also been reduced to useless things.

Involuntarily, Cindy just sincerely sighed.

"Who can refuse Anson Wood?"

Cindy herself did not expect that this sentence would become a classic, not only after the Golden Globe Awards ceremony, but also widely circulated for a long time afterwards, becoming a topic of conversation.