Rebranding by aells

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Julian is acutely aware of how often he's shifting in his seat. The chair is wildly uncomfortable. It's a moon-shaped fiberglass monstrosity whose meager cushioning had been rendered flat by years of use. Julian thinks that it'd be better off in a museum than in use in this office, but he isn't sure if a museum would take something in such poor condition. Already, this is a poor in-person first impression of the fashion house known as Franchini, but to be fair, expectations were low to begin with.

The Franchini brand has been nosediving for a few years now. Once one of the most respected and in-demand designer fashion houses in the world, a chronic inability to keep up with the times has sent interest in Franchini clothing plummeting while newer, fresher brands have taken over the fashion world. The name "Franchini" evokes thoughts of thick and uncomfortable fabrics in gaudy patterns. Repetitive sihlouettes. Awful styling. Even their signature perfume was out of style: the highly profitable demographic of young people they needed to impress thought of Franchini Luxe as the scent of their mothers and grandmothers, not their cool and stylish friends. Every season, influencers and internet snarkers would say the same thing about the upcoming Franchini runway show: "It's Franchini. Don't expect much."

Delilah Franchini is a stately and intimidating woman, who holds her composure surprisingly well for someone who's currently captaining a sinking ship. Though the worn furniture and lack of activity outside the office indicates the brand's impending failure, Delilah's confident demeanor is almost enough to trick Julian into feeling like he's somewhere much more respectable. She's the new creative director of the family company ever since her father stepped down last month, and around the industry, rumor has it she's desperate to turn the brand around and prove her worth. Which is probably why Julian, one of the hottest new stars of the modeling industry, sits in her office with his manager, Eva.

"So," Delilah begins, "you can probably guess why I invited you here." Her piercing hazel eyes stare at Julian from beneath heavy, blunt blue-black bangs.
"Something to do with modeling clothes? Just a guess, though," Julian replies.
"Wow, who says all models are dumb, huh?" Delilah jokes back.

Her tone shifts to something less jovial. "Specifically, I want you, Julian, at the face of our next campaign." Julian raised an eyebrow. He'd never been the face of a whole campaign before. He always captures people's attention on runways and in magazine ads, but somebody else was always in the forefront. He's hot and new on the scene, and for someone like him, a campaign is major. But... how much is it worth if it's a campaign for THIS brand? Honestly, it might be worse for his career if he took it.

Eva pipes up and leans in toward Delilah. "That's a very bold offer," she says. "But if I may be so direct, lemme ask you: what does a Franchini campaign offer Julian? Does this brand even have enough money for a great big campaign? He won't work for peanuts, you know. I won't let him. Not to mention the state of your current reputation."

Julian has always been slightly uncomfortable around Eva when she's in no-nonsense mode. It's probably because he's the kind of person to talk around what he really means and let himself get swallowed up by social etiquette. To his relief, Delilah is unbothered, or at least she seems like it.

"I've heard good things about you, Eva. Now I know why. Your apprehension isn't unfounded. This brand is in the gutter. People make more money reselling our old stuff on eBay than we do selling a new collection. And I'm not here to sit back and let that keep happening until we finally keel over and die. I have big plans, and I see Julian leading the charge of the Franchini renaissance."

Julian shifts again. "Go on," he says, surprising himself by talking without Eva prompting him to speak. Eva still looks skeptical.

"I'm starting over. Totally from scratch. This brand is going to become unrecognizable. We're not bankrupt, but we don't have much. Just enough to go through with this campaign I have planned. It's a Hail Mary, and if it fails, then fine. Then I'll admit defeat with the knowledge that I at least went down swinging. But if it succeeds, I forsee something incredible. And if that's the case, than you can consider yourself the face of the new and improved Franchini for as long as you want, kid."

"And what," Eva chimes in, "is going to be so revolutionary about this rebrand?"

"Well, I have some photos and sketches of the upcoming collection here, if you'd like to look through them." Delilah slides a binder over the desk to Eva, who begins flipping through the pages. "The real main event is what I want to do for the ads, though".

Julian looks at her.

"Julian," Delilah says, looking right into his eyes, "I want to shave your head."

"No, no. Absolutely not, hell no." Eva says it, but Julian is thinking it too.

Julian's success in modeling can partially be attributed to a beautiful face and a great body. He's androgynous, handsome and pretty at the same time. His face is just the right balance of chiseled and ethereal. His muscles are defined but his tall frame is still rather lithe. Bulkier muscle gets you underwear modeling gigs, but lightweight muscle gets you on runways. But the real reason for his success is his hair. It's the most prominent thing about him. Bright copper waves that fall down to his waist and glisten in the light. Soft and glossy and thick. He's been cultivating it for nearly a decade, ever since middle school. And this woman wants him to shave it off.

"Hear me out! I was brainstorming with my team about what really grabs people's attention these days. What'll REALLY get them talking. Something that tells you to ditch everything you thought you knew and get ready for a new era. Someone brings up the idea of getting some supermodel or B-list celebrity for the campaign and giving her a makeover. Get people talking about her new look. Do something with her hair. And then someone says, why don't we convince somebody to shave her head? On camera, in an ad? And to me, that wasn't quite right, but it gave me the REAL idea I want to go through with."

Julian swallows a lump in his throat.

"The idea of a woman shaving her head USED to be shocking. It USED to get a reaction out of people. These days, bald and buzzed women are a dime a dozen. People hardly bat an eye. You know what they always get worked up for though? When a man with beautiful signature hair chops it all off. You saw how they went crazy when Harry Styles did it, right? TWICE? When Bieber ditched his bowlcut back in the day? Metallica's whole 'Load' era? You're too young to remember the last one, but you get my drift, right?"

Julian is at a loss for words. His hair is currently tied up in a heavy bun at the back of his head. He twirls some baby hairs that hang from his nape and stares at the floor so he wouldn't have to look at Delilah.

"This would be a very costly endeavor for you, Delilah," Eva says. "Because what you're asking my client to do won't fly at just his standard rate. Hell, not even for double his standard rate."

Delilah, unblinking, reaches into her desk drawer and pulls out a checkbook. After jotting down some numbers, she silently passes it to Eva. She and Julian look at the amount.

It's much, much larger than expected.

"You can afford this?"
"If I sell off some of my personal assets, yes," Delilah responds. She means business.

"When do you want an answer by?", Eva asks.
"I'll give you a week. And I mean it, I am willing to dump whatever is left of our funds into your paycheck. I have a really good feeling about this. I just need you, Julian."

********************

Back at the modeling agency's offices, Julian and Eva sit silently. Eva figured he could digest the offer on the ride back from Franchini headquarters, so she didn't try to keep conversation until now.

"What are you thinking?", she asks.

"Well, I think I don't want to be bald, and you probably don't want me to be bald, so there's not much conversation to be had, right?"

"She didn't say 'bald', per se. Could just be a buzzcut."

"Oh yeah sure, JUST a buzzcut." Julian blushes at even saying the word. "You're not really considering it, are you?"

"Julian, you're the one who considers whether to do something this drastic," Eva says. "My job is to talk you though it and yell at you if you pass up a good opportunity."

Julian scoffs. "What kind of good opportunity can Franchini possibly be?"

Eva stands up from her swivel chair. "I saw the clothes. The designs are good. Really good. She's right that they're taking a sharp turn in the opposite direction. And whatever you say about their previous stuff, it was always well-made. I know they can pull off the actual clothes. And my god, that paycheck. That's an absurd amount to pay for anybody who's not a supermodel."

"But I can't lose my hair. My hair is my whole thing! I wouldn't get a second look in most casting calls without it." Julian has let his hair down now, stroking it like a safety blanket without even realizing. His hands glide smoothly through a river of red, brushed tangle-free and meticulously maintained.

Eva leans puts her hands on her desk and leans over at him. "Don't belittle yourself."

"Huh?"

"You are not just hair, Julian. I've noticed this with you before. You never want to see past the hair. It defines you. For whatever reason, you don't think you're good looking without it, but Julian, you could have advanced male pattern baldness and still have one of the most gorgeous faces I've encountered in this industry. Agencies would pay to get you a wig or a transplant or a goddamn toupee. Because your face is that good."

Julian sits in shock. Eva had struck a nerve. It was true that Julian didn't think of himself as much more than his hair. He didn't want to admit that to himself, but he knew it deep down. When you're just "the hair", you don't have to be much else. Your defining trait is your most prominent physical feature. The problem is that physical features can be swiftly and easily decimated... and then what are you?

"I think you can pull this off. And if the agency bigwigs get peeved about it, blame me," says Eva.

"What about when you said you wanted me to go for some haircare company gigs? Redken, Tresseme—"

"Screw that. That was a while ago. Nowadays those would be a downgrade for you. You're not an amateur anymore, Julian. You've heard of 'versatility'. You know that versatility is a good thing." Eva sits in the chair next to Julian. With one hand, she cups his left cheek, and with the other she runs her fingers through his hair. It feels indescribably soft.

"You know what's not versatile?", she asks. "Hair that never changes."

**************************

There was a guy named Danny back in high school on the baseball team. Tall, tan, athletic body, honey blond hair buzzed tight on the sides but left longer and wavier on top. Rumor had it he was into guys, but he'd never admit it. Julian was also deeply in denial of his sexuality, but he lacked the same masculinity that made people give Danny the benefit of the doubt. The rumors were like a fairy tale for Julian— if he liked boys, and Danny liked boys, that meant they could be together, right? In a small town without many options, what more do you need? Compatibility?

One night Julian found himself at the same party as Danny, and then somehow, found himself in the same room with Danny, alone. Julian, drunk for the first time in his life, felt courageous, which didn't happen often. He made flirtatious comments that weren't nearly as veiled as he thought they were. Danny was drunk, too, but he wasn't dumb. Getting up in Julian's face, the taller, more muscular young man delivered a crushing blow with the scent of beer on his breath:

"Listen, just because we're both..." He paused. There was clearly a word he meant to say. And though he was okay saying it about Julian, he clearly didn't want to say it about himself. "...it doesn't mean I want to f**k you, alright? I wanna f**k guys, and with your stupid hair and scrawny ass you look a lot like a girl to me."

Danny was frozen in shock against the wall.

"Did you hear me? F**k off, you ugly freak. Even if I didn't care what everybody else thought, why the hell would I hook up with YOU?"

From what Julian's heard, Danny came out in college. He's in some frat and he's on top of the world. People might look at him differently, but there's enough about him for people to like, and so they stick around. They like him and he's not afraid of anything. Julian thinks about him often.

*******************

How the hell did he get here?

The soft bristles of a makeup brush dust powder across Julian's face. The vanity lights sear into his eyeballs. He's been here plenty of times before, getting his hair and makeup done for a gig. He knows the feel of a leather styling chair. He knows the feel of a stylist brushing and shaping and fiddling with his hair. It feels different this time. It feels wrong.

How did he end up agreeing to this? He knows it happened, days ago. But why? What argument had Delilah or Eva made that convinced him this was a good idea? Because it definitely didn't feel like one now.

Delilah keeps checking in on him between micromanaging everything else on set for the shoot. Eva is pacing back and forth, two coffees in her system at this point, but she probably wishes she had some alcohol instead. It frustrates Julian that she's so nervous— after all, it's not her image on the line.

They want him in just a plain white tee and jeans for the shoot, at least at first. Delilah explained the vision, that he'd be wearing this very basic outfit for the big haircut, but once he was good and buzzed, he'd change into a new Franchini suit to show off the new look.

Other models would be part of the shoot. Probably no-names and newcomers, since they'd blown the budget on Julian. They were already dressed in Franchini's finest new pieces— and they did, indeed, look good. Infinitely more sleek and modern than anything Julian had seen from them before.

The time came for the shoot to begin, and Julian forced himself out of the chair. He looked back at the stylist that had been brushing his doomed hair. He was an alternative looking guy, dressed all in black, with sleeves pushed up to show off his tattoos. He had blue hair in a fade on the sides of his head, and a pile of bouncy curls on top. His short smattering of facial hair was a rich brown, betraying what his natural color must be. He could've been modeling today, too— he was definitely attractive enough.

"Thank you," a dejected Julian squeaked out. The stylist chuckled. "Don't thank me yet," he said. "I still have to buzz you, and you might not like me much after that."

So, this guy was also going to be responsible for the dreaded moment of truth. Julian flinches as the man gently places a hand on his shoulder. "You nervous?"

"Yeah. Very."

"I can tell."

Julian struggles to look at the man. "I'm TJ," he says.

"Julian."

"I've heard. Well for what it's worth Julian, I admire what you're doing here. It's one thing for me to change up my hair because I do it all the time. This takes guts. I like that."

Julian lets out a laugh. He certainly doesn't feel admirable. He does feel utterly enchanted by this compliment from a beautiful man, though, but he can't do much about it now.

"You ready?" asks TJ.

"Ready as I can get."

The set isn't much of a set; it's a white platform on a white floor and backdrop, with a white chair in the middle. It fits the whole "blank slate" thing, but it's also ultra cheap.

"So, Julian," calls out Delilah, who's taking complete creative control over the whole shoot, "before we sit you down and do this thing, I wanna get some shots of how you are now. Nothing fancy. Look nonchalant. Toss the hair around a bit, run your fingers through it. Don't go working your angles too hard— save that for the 'during' and the 'after'".

Julian did ask he was asked. It was mindless enough. They filmed him giving awkward smirks at the camera, as if it was just an ordinary, unremarkable moment. He did a few dramatic flips of his head, sending locks of red flying out in perfect arcs above his head, probably undoing all of TJ's hard work. What did it matter?

"That's good," Delilah said after a few minutes. "And now, the moment we've all been waiting for."

Julian's legs feel like jello as he ambles over to the chair. He forces deep breaths in and out of his lungs. TJ is behind him with a powerful-looking set of cordless clippers. He leans down and speaks softly next to Julian's face. "I have a number 5 on this thing. I'll use that all over and then take you back to the makeup chair to clean you up better. That good with you?"

"Wh-what...", Julian hesitates. He has a question, but he feels like it would probably embarrass him to ask it.

"Oh yeah, you definitely don't know about guard lengths and what they mean," TJ says, sensing what the question was. He explains to Julian what the numbers mean, and says that a 5 is pretty long. "I can use shorter guards on the sides later to make it look better, yeah?"

Julian's head is still swimming. Would it make that much of a difference compared to how much was going to end up on the floor? "Yeah, that's good," he says half-heartedly.

A voice booms from behind the cameras. "We ready to roll?" Delilah asks. Julian just nods. "Brilliant!" she yells back. The cameras start rolling. The clippers turn on.

Julian knows he's supposed to still be modeling while the transformation takes place. He still has to watch his facial expressions, nail his best angles, and sell the look in his eyes. Not to mention body language, and maybe a few poses. There's multiple cameras, some of which are probably for closeups. He needs to look good on all of them.

He starts by tilting his head far to the side, exposing his right sideburn to TJ. It's an invitation telling the stylist where to begin buzzing. Julian hears the shrill noise of the machine coming closer and closer to his ear, louder and louder, until it finally makes contact with his sideburn. The arrival is heralded by a change in the pitch of the noise and the feeling of plastic against his skin. Julian's heart nearly explodes. The noise and the feeling travel up the side of his head, towards his crown. The long red hair rains down on his shoulders, his legs, and the floor. He feels his eyes wanting to shut and stay that way but he forces them open. The other models have started gasping and watching in disbelief. Eva is behind Delilah, with her eyes wide as saucers and her hand clamped over her mouth. She definitely doesn't look as certain about this as she did a few days ago, but it's too late to go back now.

TJ starts buzzing another strip of hair. Julian's mind starts wandering so that he doesn't totally surrender to that overwhelming nature of what's happening. He tries to think of people he cares about... but then he starts to worry about what they'll think of the new look. He thinks about whether anyone will find him attractive like this. He starts thinking about Danny.

Why is he thinking about Danny? He hates Danny. That guy made him feel like garbage. Danny said what Julian already thought about himself: that he was ugly. That he was a loser. That he'd never find someone to love him. Danny was off living a perfectly happy life, and Julian was here, sacrificing his entre identity for a flash-in-the-pan modeling career that probably wouldn't last.

TJ has nearly the entire side of his head buzzed down before Julian snaps back and realizes he's been slacking. Delilah is hollering directions at him, but he can't really make out what she's saying. He doesn't need directions, though, does he? He knows how to make himself look good.

He's good at his job.

The next time TJ lifts the clippers, Julian takes the opportunity to crane his neck around a bit. He tilts his head more downward and looks up into the lens. He smirks at it. The shape of his jawline looks incredible at this angle. He continues like this, switching angles and adjusting his eyes as TJ continues the destruction. His touch is remarkably gentle. Soothing, even.

'Is this what you wanted, Danny?', he thinks. 'Do you like what I'm doing to my stupid hair right now?'

'Is my ass still too scrawny for you?'

'It wasn't enough for you to just turn me down. You had to make me feel like garbage, huh?'

'I hate you. I hate how you made me feel about myself.'

There's this really cliche phrase in modeling that nobody really says, but they say it in movies often. "Make love to the camera." Such a stupid phrase, right? Julian always thought so at least. But now, he gets it. He's not sure if this is "making love", exactly, but he's staring into the lens with fire in his eyes. It makes up for the firey hair that's being taken from him.

The machine travels around his head and continues eating away at his identity. The opposite side of his head gets buzzed next, leaving him with an awkward, incredibly long mullet. Julian can practically feel the blades chopping off each and every hair, leaving behind mere centimeters of what used to be multiple feet of hair. And yet, he looks amazing. He's selling this better than he's ever sold anything before. TJ goes to work on the top of his head next, pulling the machine back from Julian's hairline to his crown, over and over again, in uniform rows. He feels vibrations in his bones, either from the machine itself or from how completely overwhelmed he is.

TJ catches him off guard when he takes a few severed strands of red hair and sprinkles them on top of Julian's face, like glitter. He smiles back at him.

He turns the back of his head to the camera to make sure they get a good shot of the last few locks leaving the back of his head. As quick as it all began, it's over. An ocean of red hair lies defeated on the floor around them. Julian feels out of breath despite never leaving the chair. He gives a few more good shots with the completed look before they cut the cameras.

The set is in total silence for a moment until Delilah starts clapping wildly, prompting everyone else to do the same. Everyone knows what they just saw, but only Delilah is absolutely positive that it was a good idea. "Okay, so let's clean this up and get a few shots with everybody else. TJ, you go do the finishing touches. Let's go everyone!"

Julian's numbness starts wearing off. He realizes what he just did. His hair is gone. He had no idea what it looks like. His chest tightens and he feels sick. He turns to TJ. "Hey, can I run to the bathroom quick before we do the... the rest of it?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Julian practically runs into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Finally, he can cry in peace. He sobs, actually. Hesitantly, he looks at his reflection in the mirror and sees the jarring reality of it all. Where there used to be curtains of gorgeous copper hair, Julian now has short red bristles with his bright white scalp peeking out between them in places. He runs his hand over it and cringes. He ruined the best part of himself.

A knock at the bathroom door makes him jump. Clearing his throat, Julian calls back, "Just a minute!". The man on the other side of the door answers. "You okay in there?". It's TJ.

"No," Julian says after a moment.

"Can I come in?"

"Uh... yeah, yeah sure."

TJ enters the spacious bathroom and locks eyes with Julian, whose reddened face makes it clear he's been crying. "I'm gonna need my makeup redone, I totally screwed it up."

"That's okay. They wanted to put some more on you for the 'after' footage anyway. Seriously, you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it's just like... like the come-down, you know? Reality setting in?"

TJ comes closer. "Can I say something really unprofessional?", he asks Julian.

"It's already pretty unprofessional for you to be watching me cry in the bathroom, so sure."

TJ chuckles. "I think you look hot as hell." Julian is so shocked he laughs.

"I mean it. You were hot before too but this... this is really good on you." Julian is too flustered to speak. "So what I'm thinking," TJ continues, "is that I shorten the sides a bit and give you a fade. Probably go down to the skin at the very bottom. I think it'll look even better than it already does." As he says this, his hand is caressing Julian's head at the nape, rubbing his thumb back and forth in the buzzed hair. "You okay with that?"

"Yeah," Julian says softly. He's on fire right now. In a flash, before he can stop himself, he leans in and kisses TJ, who leans in and kisses him back. Julian pulls away with a gasp when he realizes what he's doing. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"I don't mind. I really don't mind." They look at each other for another moment. "You ready to get back out there?", TJ asks.

"Yeah."

Back in the hair and makeup chair, Julian feels himself relaxing for the first time since he got the offer to do this campaign. The deed is done, now comes the easy part. Eva comes over to cautiously ask how he's doing. "Look, I know I maybe looked a little panicked there for a minute, but I was right after all, wasn't I? You look damn good, with or without hair. This was a good thing."

Julian reassures her that he's fine and that yes, this probably was good for him. They joke with each other for a moment until TJ begins his work, at which point Eva scatters to give Julian some space. He fires the clippers up again, this time with a shorter guard, and buzzes the back and sides of Julian's hair even tighter. This time, he gets to watch the process in the mirror. He works quickly but precisely, switching between guards and blending the various lengths of hair. At the bottom of his neck and sideburns, Julian's hair is reduced to just some red stubble. With the guard off entirely, TJ neatens up around his ears and neck. It's the final touch that marks the transformation fully complete.

The makeup artists come in next, re-applying the makeup he cried off in the bathroom. They put some eye makeup on him as well, which helps to balance the more androgynous aspects of Julian's look with the brutal new haircut. The suit they put him in is tailored to perfection, and it makes his lines look long and sharp. They don't have him wear any kind of shirt beneath the suit jacket, so that they can give him some jewelry that draws the eye to his neck and collarbone. He's unrecognizable from when he walked in. TJ invites him to have drinks at his place afterwards. He admits to himself that Delilah has had the right idea all along.

*******************

The new ad campaign does exactly what it needs to do. Within hours of the first ad dropping, every fashion publication imaginable either publishes an article about the Franchini rebrand, or has one in the works. People are in total shock to see that Julian, known both in the fashion industry and in the celebrity gossip sphere as "that model with the hair", had buzzed it all off. The whole thing blows up on every social media platform imaginable. Some people hate the new look. Some fans cry about the loss of his hair. But many people think he looks amazing. They're amazed that he even thought of doing this at all. The important part, is that people are talking and paying attention.

They talked about the new slogan too: "Franchini: Defy Expectations."

In the long run, the whole thing does wonders for Julian's career. The daring move marks him as an exciting and versatile new face in fashion. Before long, he's everywhere on runways, on TV, and in magazines. His hair takes on many different lengths and styles, sometimes growing it out, sometimes chopping it all off. Eva does remarkably well at keeping up with his explosion in popularity, and Julian has her make one notable addition to his contract: whatever gig he does, they have to hire the only stylist he trusts to handle his hair: his boyfriend, TJ.

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