the front and sides of the runway to ensure that every parading contestant looked her best.
The high-energy opening segment concluded with 12 pouting models forming a semi-circle in front of a huge Estee Lauder logo projected onto the blue screen behind the stage.
Branson closed his arms, breathed as deeply as his previous month of nightclubbing permitted and clasped his hands together. As he gestured toward the podium, the audience and the stage, Branson caught sight of himself in one of the many stage mirrors and was relieved to see the makeup appeared to be holding.
He pointed approvingly towards the beaming group of young women.
“Aren’t they something? It’s my great pleasure to be sharing tonight with you all ...”
Branson, the heir to a circus dynasty and immersed in the theatre business all his life, milked the audience with an expectant grin.
“As we discover which model has captured the heart and spirit of the world of fashion this year ...”
He swept his hands forward and waved enthusiastically at Alexa Chung and her fashionista friends in the first tier VIP boxes.
“This is the big one for the global fashion industry, folks!” he reminded the audience.
Pink’s Get The Party Started danced out of a wide wall of Klein + Hummel RX240 N speakers and matching RB480 S sub-woofers.
“I’m coming up, so you better get this party started
Making my connection as I enter the room
Everybody’s dancing and they’re dancing for me.”
The screens darkened as the parade rhythmically morphed from lingerie to spectacular designer gowns.
The models, who had been entering and leaving the stage in a perpetual circle of motion, finally came to rest beside Branson in three small groups.
The 12 contestants came from different parts of the globe and, together, presented an eclectic sample of the human form. Tall. Petite. European. African. Asian. Brunette. Blonde. Redhead.
Most of the models wore their professional catwalk faces, but two of the striking women featured on camera exchanged fleeting unscripted smiles.
The brunette and blonde’s brief intimacy was magnified on the screens scattered throughout the auditorium.
A titter of whispers shot around the room.
Almost everyone in Los Angeles had heard gossip about the two models predicted to win the evening’s event. In the run up to the “Estee Lauders,” every gossip columnist and melodramatic entertainment reporter in the USA had asked what the Awards would do to their rumoured affair.
No one could prove the pair were lovers. Then again, they could not disprove it either.
As no one had denied a romance was happening, the media story had run and run. Would a win for either one of them, and the tens of millions of dollars in contracts that would flow from it, destroy their relationship?
After all, LA’s fashion pundits had repeatedly speculated, there could be only one winner in this very public battle.
Branson smiled and raised his right arm before approaching the nearest group of models.
The lone Californian contestant, the strawberry blonde, Joanne Hart, stood tall at the centre of the group. She winked seductively at Angela Durand, the French brunette standing next to her.
Joanne’s blonde hair was cut fashionably short. A gold and diamond David Webb necklace around her neck, a crimson Alaia evening dress hugged her beach girl physique, crimson L’Oreal gloss highlighted her plump inviting lips and metallic black Louboutin heels lifted her head and shoulders above the other models in the group. A post-modern siren with sparkling blue-eyes and an infectious smile, Joanne was buxom and curvaceous yet LA slim and stood around 5 foot 10 inches tall.
Angela Durand had long silky brunette hair, big brown eyes and soft-skinned creamy European features highlighted by Estee Lauder Apricot Scrub. Her physique was yoga-toned and thin. She stood 5 foot 3 inches tall.
On this night of nights, Angela wore a short Rodarte stretch-lace black dress, sheer black Rive Gauche silk stockings, red Shiseido lipstick drew the eye to her beautifully proportioned face and loud red Gucci heels complimented her gown. A red silk ribbon held her long hair neatly in place, a thin silver Chopard necklace and peace sign hung around her neck. Angela’s introverted retro look and sunny personality were all designed to melt the hardest of hearts. And judging by the fascinated response of the glitterati spread out in the auditorium before her, she was succeeding.
Branson floated across the floor to stand in the middle of this group of models. He threw his left arm casually over Angela’s shoulder, his right arm around Joanne’s waist and the trio smiled in-synch for cameras 3 and 4. The M/C posed in a way calculated to capture the envious interest of every red-blooded male watching the broadcast on TVs in lounge rooms, bars and clubs all round the world.
“History clearly demonstrates that tonight’s winner of the 2009 Estee Lauder International Modelling Awards will become the International face of the fashion industry in the years ahead,” Branson touted.
He stepped back and waved as Angela and Joanne, hands on rhythmic hips, walked the 12 models off stage.
Branson spun back to face the audience and excitedly pumped the air.
“Here we go folks, it’s show time!” he gushed. The screens showed film of the models pirouetting in boho-style cheesecloth shirts, tie-dyed skirts and swimwear. Joanne sported a barely there silver Aquarella Artemis bikini, as she stood bare-foot in a lush forest location, with a waterfall behind her. Grateful young men grinned at her through the cascading water.
Joanne spun around, beamed invitingly in front of the hypnotic water and paused.
Then up flashed a classically framed shot of Angela standing on a beach of golden sands, wearing a yellow La Blanca Shirr one-piece swimming costume and wide-brimmed crème sun hat. She smiled as if she was innocent and happily splashed her feet in the ocean’s crystal blue water.
As the clip ended, the audience was full of excitement and anticipation. Branson stepped forward as the screen dimmed and spun around to face the room in a move that he hoped displayed his athletic form.
The screens showed a sassy young reporter standing outside the Kodak. With prompting from the event producer, Branson spun back to face the reporter and camera 5.
“We’ll get back to our contestants soon but right now we’re crossing to our reporter, Terri-Lee Wilson, for a report from the red carpet. What’s happening, Terri-Lee?”
Terri-Lee, blonde, vivacious, petite, stood in her Reiss Sonia little black dress, black Blahnik heels and orange Shiseido lippy at the exact spot where the red carpet met the reception area.
There was an oversized ABC microphone in her tiny right hand.
“It’s real busy out here, Branson!”
Behind her, British actor Hugh Grant could be seen exiting from a black limousine in a dark Ralph Lauren suit combo. He was conjoined with a redheaded woman in a black Paul Poiret micro-mini-skirt, Gucci stretch lace top with satin trim and crème Silvio Rossi pumps. The camera followed the pair to the lobby where an usher greeted them with an exaggerated thespian bow. The crowd called out excitedly. Ever the professional, while doing his shy-little-boy flirt routine, Hugh made sure the photographers had a clear shot of his best profile.
“As you can see Branson, the stars have come out tonight for the most highly-regarded awards in world fashion,” Terri-Lee said breathlessly. The screens switched to an exterior shot. Limousines