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"Gabs, what the hell are you wearing?" Madison asked from the doorway to the washroom. She fastened her earrings one by one.
Gabriella looked down. "Clothes?" She wasn't sure what her best friend was referring to. Nothing she was wearing today was new or revolutionary. A warm sweater layered under thick overalls, tucked into ankle-high leather boots—a sensible choice for walking around the Olympic Village.
Madison couldn't take her eyes off the bright orange of the loose, baggy, worker's overalls. "Which deep-sea fisherman needed to die for you to get those?"
Gabriella laughed. Now she understood Madison's original question. "Steve Zissou, of course!"
The memory of exposing Madison to the world of Wes Anderson two years ago drifted to the forefront of her mind. Over the course of one Friday night and one Saturday, they'd watched every single one of Gabriella's favorite Wes Anderson films. They were locked in due to quarantine and had nothing better to do, so when Madison asked to be occupied for a weekend, Gabriella had known just what to do. All Madison needed to bring, she had joked, was a pair of comfortable pajamas and her gorgeous self.
They had started with The Grand Budapest Hotel far before breakfast, paired with huge mugs of tea. Madison had been confused, bewildered, and utterly baffled at the events that unfolded. The snappy edits and camera angles pulled Madison in but still left her guessing. Gabriella could tell she was surprised all throughout.
Next, they had moved on to The Royal Tenenbaums. Madison was still mixed on Wes Anderson's style and writing voice, but she wanted to keep going. When asked, the older woman had stated she was having a good time, and each movie helped her grow closer to Gabriella. She liked learning about her friends in this way.
As the day moved from morning to afternoon, Gabriella remembered the first time she had watched these movies. In her childhood home on her crappy laptop, she could only gape breathless at the unbridled whimsy and color. There was nothing like seeing a Wes Anderson film for the first time—but she was excited to make new memories with Madison and re-interpret the films as an older woman.
Following a quick lunch and walk around the block, they'd returned to their movie marathon. This time, they knocked out the animated films: Fantastic Mr. Fox and Isle of Dogs. Gabriella wasn't ashamed to admit that she cried at the end of each. There was a timeless, tender quality to the stop-motion, a level of detail that stole her breath even after all these days. Madison really enjoyed Isle of Dogs; that was good to know. She filed that away for later.
The final movies were The French Dispatch and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. These two were not as popular among her friends who were Wes Anderson enthusiasts, and Gabriella was not entirely a fan of them either. She had to be in the right mood to consume either of these. However, she felt they were necessary viewing material to understand the mind of Wes Anderson. It was certainly more fun to shit-talk the questionable plot points and characters with a friend. She was relieved to hear Madison gripe about Steve Zissou, the asshat.
Glaringly missing from the list: The Darjeeling Limited, Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, The Moonrise Kingdom. Gabriella had watched all of these on her own, but she didn't think Madison needed to see them that day. The story wasn't as solid in these, and they had limited time.
At the end of the marathon, Madison had shared several thoughts. She had enjoyed the way Anderson's directing choices kept her brain on her toes, but she wasn't sure she had liked the color palettes. All the pastel everywhere had tired her brain out. The body of work she had seen was insightful, she had claimed. In between the credits that had rolled and the meals they had shared, Gabriella had shared small bits of personal information, which Madison had accepted with a fond, loopy smile.
Gabriella still looked back on this sleepover-movie marathon with much fondness. While quarantine had come and gone and she was now in Beijing for another Olympics, she sometimes wished she was back in her Ontario apartment with nothing to do except with movies with Madison. Maybe they would get another day like that upon retirement. These days, they were adding more things to their retirement list—eat pancakes at two in the morning, sleep in past noon, dance with each other as partners, have another movie marathon. Apparently, Wes Anderson was planning to make movies for a while.
"Where did you even find those??" Madison zipped up her jacket and slipped her lanyard around her neck on top. Here eyes were still stuck to the wide straps and buckles that adorned the upper half. She reached over and tugged one of the shoulder straps.
Gabriella beamed. "I went to a street market back home with some uni friends. They saw these before I did and convinced me to get them. What do you think?" She spun in a circle and gave her best friend some jazz hands. They were comfortable and warm—but the ample pockets everywhere had been the real selling point.
Madison opened her mouth, then closed it and opened the door instead. Her face was thoughtful, conflicted. She never wanted to hurt Gabriella's feelings—she had told her as much early in their friendship. "They're… very… bright," she settled on. "You seem to like them."
Gabriella rolled her eyes. "That's not what I asked, Madi!" She exited the dorm room through the door Madison held open and watched as the American secured the lock. "What do you think? Be honest."
Madison raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told. "I think they're hideous, and the color is overwhelmingly bright." She squinted her eyes at Gabriella's outfit once more as she pressed the DOWN button on the elevator callbox. "I never would have picked them for you. But, strangely, you make them work. I don't know how."
Gabriella chuckled. There was the Madison Hubbell she knew and loved. "Thank you for being honest. I will take that under advisement."
The elevator opened to reveal a couple other athletes she didn't recognize. As they climbed in, Madison nodded with a small, wry smirk. "See that you do."
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