DAY ONE
2:00pm: Just got invited to a major Hollywood party. At THAT producer’s house. Celebrities, and my celeb crush! I RSVP yes because... why not? Then I look in my closet and realize it screams "pre-IPO hoodie gremlin" more than "fresh-on-the-scene mogul."

4:15pm: Panic-googling "quiet luxury," "elevated basics," and "how to dress rich without looking like you're trying." I even toss around texting that hot model I blew it with…. I spiral. Finally, I just message Duckbill: "Need to look expensive but not desperate. No budget because I AM desperate. Help."

DAY TWO
10:00am: Duckbill sends me a curated list and an address where I can actually try them on (instant relief!): a navy Tom Ford blazer, Italian loafers, a tee that feels absurdly priced, until I touch the fabric. I ask for a few more investment pieces that signal taste, so I have options. They deliver, with sizing notes and alternates.

7:00pm: Same-day tailoring appointment, booked by Duckbill. I show up and feel wildly out of place. The tailor compliments the picks. I pretend this is normal. Maybe it is now?

DAY THREE
3:00pm: Duckbill checks in with grooming tips and an optional, but clearly encouraged, add-on: a stylist-on-demand if I want one. I say no, but appreciate the offer. Maybe they're trying to tell me something…?

DAY FOUR
10:00pm: Deep breath: I made it, i've schmoozed, and I'm 3 mezcal Negronis deep. This party is kinda sick! Someone asks if I’m in film. I smile and say, "Sort of." My last minute glow up worked: I blended in. No one knows this whole thing came together via my now-favorite app and warding off only 1 panic attack!

Duckbill did their job. Now I just have to keep pretending I belong here, or following the advice I preach but never practice: fake it 'til you make it.

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