The Greatest Showman

The black four-door Audi sedan slowly came to a stop. The driver quickly got out and politely opened the door. Renly stepped out, raised his head, and took in the surrounding street view: red brick walls, tall oak trees, and lush green ivy climbing the walls. The air was filled with a serene atmosphere, completely devoid of the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. On either side of the street were parked black, silver, and grey cars that looked unremarkable at first glance, but to a true connoisseur, it was clear that these were custom-made vehicles, very different from the mass-market models.

With just a brief glance, Renly knew they were in the Upper East Side.

Undeniably, Fifth Avenue gathers the world’s top luxury brands, and many famous personalities are drawn there to shop. However, the truly high-end, private boutiques are not found on Fifth Avenue. Instead, they are hidden away in some back alleys of Greenwich Village, treasures that the average person can’t easily find. Special connections, professional business cards, or introductions from insiders serve as the real keys to accessing these places. Away from public view, they discreetly provide top-tier services.

Though Renly hadn’t visited these high-end custom shops since coming to New York—partly because he didn’t have any occasion to wear such attire, and partly because his financial situation didn’t allow it—he wasn’t completely in the dark. In high society, information about these elite tailors is passed around by word of mouth. However, Renly hadn’t known that there was one here in the Upper East Side.

According to usual practice, placing a shop in the Upper East Side was far too high-profile. It was clearly aimed at the upper-class clientele of this area, making no secret of the fact that it was a private custom shop with class, taste, and prestige. For proud, aloof high-end tailors—or rather, for the reserved and dignified British—it seemed too commercial, too focused on fame and fortune, and far too direct.

Even if it was hidden within a private courtyard.

“This time, the schedule is tight, so we couldn’t make more detailed arrangements. But this designer has been quite prominent over the past couple of years and is trustworthy,” Andy explained briefly. His admiration was evident from his tone, despite the shortness of his words. Andy looked Renly up and down—today, he was dressed simply in a T-shirt and jeans. “Let’s suit you up!”

Behind a veil of ivy, one could faintly see a wrought iron gate with intricate designs, along with a bronze doorbell button beside it. It was clear that this was modelled after British high-end residential designs. After pressing the doorbell, a voice came through the intercom: “Who is it?”

“Andy Rogers.”

The gate immediately opened automatically. Pushing open the iron gate revealed a heavy wooden door inside. After stepping through, they entered a spacious and bright area. In the centre was a large open space. On the left side, near the floor-to-ceiling windows, was a dark brown sofa. Directly across from it, beyond the open space, stood a full-length mirror, next to which was a changing area. The light beige curtains were fully drawn, revealing a vanity table inside, cluttered with pins, measuring tapes, scissors, and other small tools.

The warm-toned design of the space was simple and elegant, with a strong modern flair that gave a refreshing feeling. Yet Renly didn’t like it. It clashed with the style of the building. The house was clearly Victorian with its exterior and gate in that style, yet the interior was modern?

A typical American choice.

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Hall,” a tall woman approached. Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders, and she was dressed in a white silk blouse paired with a black high-waisted pencil skirt. On her feet, she wore cobalt blue pointed heels. The outfit was sharp yet feminine, perfectly showcasing her curvaceous figure. Her warm smile was neither overly flattering nor distant, maintaining just the right amount of friendliness.

This was the classic American commercial sales approach—a blonde beauty, dressed sensually but not provocatively, ensuring the customer felt comfortable. In a high-end British tailor shop, however, the receptionist would never dress like this. Most of the time, they were men or older individuals, and even if young women were employed, they would appear in formal attire.

Just one brief exchange was enough for Renly to get a feel for the shop. Growing up with a noble education, he was well-versed in these details. He glanced over and, sure enough, saw that Andy was smiling faintly, looking relaxed and clearly satisfied with the place.

“Melvin is currently having an important call upstairs, but he’ll be down shortly. Please wait a moment,” the blonde said with a smile. “Would you like coffee or tea?”

“Hot milk, no sugar, with two small cookies on the side,” Renly politely requested. Though he was mentally criticizing the place, he had grown accustomed to the American way of doing things and wasn’t surprised by this mix of commercialism and superficial elegance. He trusted that Andy had chosen this shop for its reputation.

The blonde woman was somewhat surprised, clearly not expecting Renly’s unconventional request. If she remembered correctly, today’s visitor was just a nobody who hadn’t seen much of the world—much like the strange request he’d just made. Milk? What kind of request was that? It sounded like something a country bumpkin from New Jersey would ask for. Yet, the person in front of her stood there with a calm and composed demeanour, his hands relaxed by his sides, exuding a natural ease and elegance that left her slightly flustered.

“He’s really good at putting on an act.”

The woman’s lips twitched slightly, and a hint of disdain flashed in her eyes, though she hid it well, keeping her emotions from showing. “No problem,” she responded before turning to Andy. “Coffee, with the sugar jar, please.” The blonde nodded to indicate she understood. “Now, please wait a moment.”

Upstairs, the woman found Melvin Blades lounging with his legs crossed, reading a newspaper. Clearly, Melvin wasn’t having an important call, nor did he have anything pressing to attend to.

Stylists hold a unique position in Hollywood. They’re not designers or tailors, but they have their own distinct sense of fashion and styling, though their professional competence is often difficult to assess. Their job is quite specific: they craft looks for celebrities. Not every star has an innate fashion sense—many might prefer simple outfits like plain vests, plaid shorts, and flip-flops in private. Especially in the central United States, where fashion tastes can be laughably unrefined, that’s when stylists step in.

The stylists are responsible for every public appearance of a celebrity—from hairstyles to clothing choices, from makeup to accessories, offering comprehensive advice. Then, the celebrity steps into the spotlight, becoming the centre of global attention. It’s not just red carpet events or press conferences; even casual outfits are often carefully curated by stylists.

The rise of the stylist profession from behind the scenes to the forefront coincided with the boom in street-style photography. Every time a celebrity stepped out in public, even at an airport, their outfits would garner increasing attention. This meant that celebrities’ wardrobes would undergo scrutiny from every angle—a level of scrutiny that was unimaginable twenty years ago. This development could be considered a product of the internet age.

Stylists typically update a celebrity’s wardrobe three to four times a season, allowing the star to pick from the curated collection before stepping out. Often, they’ll send a picture to their stylist for approval before leaving home.

A prime example of that in the entertainment world is Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez.

When Taylor first debuted, she maintained a “little princess” style—sweet and charming, but lacking individuality. After switching stylists, she embraced a chic urban style, blending sophistication with sweetness. Her street-style photos soared in popularity, and she was even hailed as a fashion icon. Similarly, Selena Gomez, who began her career as a Disney child star, wore youthful, lively outfits in her early years. As she matured and faced a career transition, she enlisted a professional stylist to shift her image towards a more mature, urban, and subtly sensual look. This new confidence and sophistication skyrocketed her career, cementing her status as a street-style queen in the internet era.

It’s no exaggeration to say that a top stylist can give a celebrity a complete makeover, even rivalling plastic surgery in its transformative effect. On the flip side, a mediocre stylist can bring a star down, making them fade from the public eye seemingly overnight.

However, fashion trends change constantly, and a stylist’s approach must be tailored to each individual’s unique style and features. There’s no universal standard for judging a stylist’s skill—the only measure is who they’ve styled, and how successful the result was.

Thus, celebrities must carefully choose their stylists, and the reverse is true as well.

Melvin, now thirty-five, was once a fashion buyer, travelling between the four major fashion weeks and various fashion circles. But the buyer market is fiercely competitive, and two years ago, he transitioned into styling. He began by working on the looks of Emma Roberts and Jesse Eisenberg, though his success was limited. His most notable accomplishment was selecting Anne Hathaway’s red carpet-gown for the 81st Academy Awards, which was highly praised. After that, his career began to take off.

Currently, Melvin has long-term contracts with actors such as Megan Fox, Paul Rudd, and Vanessa Hudgens. He’s secured a foothold in the styling industry but still lacks that final breakthrough—a major stage where he can showcase his talent and establish himself as a top-tier stylist.

So, he’s waiting, watching, and choosing. Accepting Andy’s request to style an unknown newcomer was partly a nod to the prestige of the Emmys and partly a search for potential rising talent—otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken on such a job at this point in his career.

Melvin put down the newspaper and looked over at the blonde woman, who shook her head in disappointment. “Seems like another hopeless country bumpkin.”

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