Page 20 of Always Meant for You
I press my fingers to the rose-gold M around my neck.
Jamie would be proud of me.
I know he would.
I peer at the Bella Mae binder on my desk. It’s bursting with collages, sketches, and rough drafts of future posts. What started as a secret is now a brand. A persona. A lifestyle. Sure, I’ve taken liberties with the truth. But everything I post is part of the narrative, part of the dream, the fantasy. Bella Mae isn’t exactly a lie. She’s aspirational.
I refresh the page on Bella Mae’s socials.
Five hundred thousand andtwofollowers.
I should be thrilled, but my stomach twists. Despite trying to convince myself otherwise, I can’t help but wonder if, at my core, I’m a fraud.
No, no, I can’t be.
I scour the city and the surrounding area for dazzling vintage finds. I run and manage the site. I curate each post. I do the work. Still, the world doesn’t love Mabel Muldowney. They’re crazy for Bella Mae.
And who is this fictitious enigma?
Bella Mae is the daughter of an antique dealer and a former runway model. Bella Mae grew up jet-setting with her stylish parents. Bella Mae lives in New York City. She sips lavender-infused matcha lattes and posts her vintage couture finds and worldly wisdom to her loyal following.
They sure as hell don’t know that she’s a girl from Elverna, Illinois, with a green screen made from an avocado-colored bedsheet pinned to the wall and a killer set of Photoshop skills. A girl who hasn’t stepped foot outside the country, let alone shared her full face online.
But the mystery is the hook.
A smirk here.
A glimpse of a chin there.
Bella Mae’s a vibe, and it’s worked. People want more, and I leave them wanting. Marketing 101: Make Bella Mae realenough to follow, but unreachable enough to obsess over. It’s not manipulation. It’s . . . survival. That’s right. Survival.
And the vintage clothing I feature are real treasures.
Just this month, I uncovered a velvet Lanvin halter gown from 2002, a Nina Ricci lace tea dress straight from the eighties, a pleated Givenchy midi skirt from the seventies. And my favorite—a flowing and flirty white number from Chloé’s 2005 ready-to-wear collection.
All secondhand.
It does take time to find them and create posts, which doesn’t leave much time for waiting tables.
I got fired from my last job a week ago.
I’ve maxed out three credit cards.
My bank account is a joke.
I have no social life.
But my social media feed is flawless.
While other influencers post knockoffs and obvious brand bait, I highlight the history and design. These aren’t simply items of clothing. They’re statements about women, about who we are in this world.
But it’s not all vintage couture. I’ve broadened my style since I’ve moved here. I find up-and-coming designers and share their pieces in my posts as well. Bella Mae mixes the new and the established.
And it’s working.
But is it enough?
I’ll find out today.
