Chapter 111 Fashion Show

"Mr. Balthasar, you can't just look at looks." Joseph whispered to his fashion designer, "They are here for the catwalk, not for the ball." "

He pointed to the giant T stage in the square: "You see, when the guests gather under the stage, they will only be able to see the models' figures, postures, and the clothes they are wearing, but they can hardly see their faces."

Balthasar nodded repeatedly. He had only been exposed to these "catwalks" and "T-stages" for two days, and he still had no clue.

The promotion of Fashion Week has been in full swing recently, and the whole of Paris is talking about it.

Therefore, after the advertisement for recruiting models for fashion week was published in the newspaper, the ladies in Paris suddenly became excited - in the glorious old palace, they put on the most popular and beautiful fashions, under countless lights, and were noticed by the upper class throughout Europe. , and there are high rewards to be received, who can not be tempted by this?

Yes, there was no fashion model career in this era, so Joseph could only audition from the public.

For a time, "model" and "catwalk" became the most popular words among Parisian women. Regardless of actors, singers, delinquent women, or even aristocratic ladies, as long as they have a little confidence in their figure and appearance, they all have the idea of ​​​​signing up to try out at the Tuileries Palace.

After several rounds of preliminary screening by Balthasar, the dozens of people in front of him were selected, and they were already considered the best among the candidates.

Joseph helplessly looked at the models who acted stiffly or deliberately showed off their "career lines". He couldn't help but sigh, stood up, clapped his hands vigorously to remind the models to pay attention, and then did what he least wanted to do but had to do again. ——Demonstrate the cat walk.

"Look, we have to step here in the second step." His scalp was numb with embarrassment, but he could only persist, "First lift your knees and 'throw' your calves out, and then take the next step...

"Don't use too much force on your hands, just let them hang down naturally... I don't want your hands to go limp! Forget it, just put your hands on your hips.

"Don't look around, keep your eyes open..."

Although he doesn't know how to do this, he has never eaten pork, at least he has seen pigs walking, and he can still learn a bit about Victoria's Secret by recalling countless times in his previous life.

After he walked back and forth, the models immediately gave him warm applause.

Joseph sat back on his chair with a dark face and said feebly: "Whoever learns it first will be promoted to coach and his salary will be doubled."

With the ability, the models immediately became serious. Several aristocratic ladies who had practiced dancing began to touch the door, and their movements gradually became more impressive.

Joseph asked them to practice and experience it by themselves, then turned to the male model group on the other side of the hall and raised his hand to signal: "Please take a walk and take a look."

Dozens of handsome French boys immediately raised their long legs, and with the high heels on their feet, they walked in a enchanting catwalk, much more presentable than the ladies next to them.

"Stop..." Joseph felt like he was going to have angina, "That's not it! This is a lady's footwork..."

A bold and handsome blond man immediately said: "Your Highness, wasn't this how you left just now?"

Joseph stopped him from continuing with his murderous eyes, turned to his captain of the guard and said: "Viscount Kesoud, please take a few steps to show everyone, just like you usually do when walking in the Palace of Versailles. "

"Yes, Your Highness." Kesoud hurriedly came to the middle of the hall and walked forward with his head held high, his posture full of heroism and full of strength.

Joseph looked at the male models: "Please practice like this."

Under a construction shed in the Tuileries Square, the review supervisor of the Fashion Week Organizing Committee was looking intently at the west hall. There were dozens of beauties dressed in beautiful dresses, walking past the wooden platform one after another. Their eyes were as bright as water, their manners were enchanting, and they were graceful.

He swallowed unconsciously and asked the president of the Chamber of Commerce beside him: "Viscount Fleiselle, what are you doing there?"

"I heard that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince invented the way to display fashion, also called a catwalk." Fleiselle replied casually, but secretly sighed in his heart: I really don't know how the Crown Prince came up with such beauty at his age, ah bah ! What a brilliant idea. With just this kind of catwalk, this year’s fashion week is sure to shock the whole of Europe.

…

"Brian, this despicable, shameless bastard!" Vilzhen slammed the letter in his hand on the table with a loud bang, "I swear! One day, I will tear you to pieces with my own hands!"

His entourage heard the movement and hurriedly opened the door and asked, "My lord, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Get out!"

Vilzhen turned around and roared, his face colder than the white snow outside the window.

The letter was written by the Duke of Orleans, and judging from the date, it was sent the day after he left Paris. However, the postman obviously failed to catch up with him, and it was not until he took a break in Smolensk that he finally received the letter.

The letter contained only a few sentences, telling him that the British-French trade negotiations had officially begun. The negotiators are Brian and Household Registration Minister Nicoet.

Verzhen gritted his teeth and remembered that he had asked Brian half a month ago when he planned to start trade negotiations. Brian told him that some financial data used in the negotiations were not ready and would have to wait for a long time.

Subsequently, he was sent to Russia to convey the so-called "France's concerns about the Russian-Turkish war."

Unexpectedly, as soon as he left, trade negotiations between Britain and France began.

What he couldn't accept the most was that the person who participated in the negotiations on his behalf turned out to be that good-for-nothing "Transparent Minister" Nicoé!

After a long time, he slumped in the chair. This place is more than 2,000 kilometers away from Paris. Even if he rushes back immediately, the treaty will definitely be signed by the time he arrives in Paris.

And what awaits him is only the ridicule of the entire Parisian political arena.

The firewood in the fireplace was "crackling" and the fire was burning brightly, but Vergen only felt the bone-chilling cold. He knew that his political career was probably over...

...

On the west bank of the Seine, Mirabeau's villa.

Mirabeau did not expect His Royal Highness the Dauphin to visit suddenly, so he was a little flustered when he came out to greet him: "Oh, it's nice to meet you, respected His Royal Highness the Dauphin."

He took a half step back with his right foot, put his right hand on his chest, and bowed respectfully.

Joseph smiled and said, "I am also very happy to see you, Count Mirabeau. In fact, I came here today because I want to ask for your help with something."

Mirabeau personally opened the door for him: "You know, Your Highness, I always look forward to serving you."

After entering the reception room, Mirabeau asked Joseph to sit down, and pointed enthusiastically at the black tea that the maid had just brought, saying, "Your Highness, you must try this, which has just been shipped from the Far East. It is definitely not comparable to those cheap Indian products. Oh, by the way, what do you want me to do?"

"Thank you for your tea. It tastes very good." Joseph picked up the teacup with a strong milky aroma and gestured to Mirabeau, and then continued, "You may have heard that the government is promoting potatoes nationwide."