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elcondorpasas · 2 years

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Eddie x M! Reader where Reader can play the guitar as well? (And Eddie gets a lil jelly--)

If so tysmmm!!!!

Of Scales and Chords | eddie munson x reader

summary you have a guitar lesson with eddie, your semi crush slash guitar idol. what could go wrong?

warnings none that I can really think of? slight jealous!eddie and a tiny bit insecure!reader, not proof read :P

a/n this took a minute to write, i simply had no idea how i wanted it to go. honestly, might write a part two...but we'll see! hope you enjoy and as always, if this isn't exactly what you wanted, just let me know and I'll try to rewrite it :)

Today was the day.

You’d been absolutely vibrating when you woke up that morning. Your body and mind buzzing with the knowledge of what was to come at 3pm. You’d gone about your morning routines, but you made sure to spend extra time in the bathroom when you were getting ready. You wanted to look presentable. You perfectly styled your hair away from your face and made sure that your face gave no indication of the lack of sleep you encountered the night before. How could you sleep? Your mind was racing as it often did when he was at the center of your thoughts. You could barely contain yourself as you consumed your breakfast. Your parents had noticed your mood and asked you to calm down. But how on earth could you calm down, when in five and a half hours’ time, Eddie Munson would be giving you a guitar lesson? And that’s exactly what you asked your parents. Their disdain for Eddie was not hidden, but you their concerns fell on inattentive ears.

You had been playing guitar for some time now, mainly classical. You knew all the greats: Vivaldi, Bach, Walton. You’d trained and practiced for years, even winning a few state competitions. But seeing Corroded Coffin win this year’s battle of the bands hosted out at The Hideaway off route 78 had awoken something in you. Watching Eddie command the stage, the way his deft fingers dance over his fretboard during his solos, it was more than safe to say that you were enamored. A tinge jealous even, but not in a malicious way. You wanted to be able to play like that. Play that kind of music. You wanted the confidence Eddie carried with himself, not just on stage but at school too. No one cared that you were a state level recognized classical musician and, to be fair, Hawkins High wasn’t exactly swooning over Eddie Munson for his involvement with the non-existent metal scene in their town. But that was what you loved about the scene and Eddie; they didn’t care! They even relished in the fact of being social outcasts at time. They owned it. You wanted that.

The time stretching between your breakfast with your parents and the time you were meant to leave for Eddie’s seemed to fly by. You found yourself nervously unpacking and repacking your guitar case, ensuring you had everything you’d need. However, you weren’t sure what good your classical, nylon stringed guitar would if Eddie were going to be teaching you Iron Maiden and Metallica. You’d barely had time to register the fact that you hadn’t even told Eddie about your guitar experience when you’d asked him last week if he’d give you a few pointers and maybe teach you a song or two, before you heard the sound of a horn honking outside your window.

Shit.

Nancy was early. Of course, she was. It was typical Nancy Wheeler behavior to arrive 15 to 20 minutes early. The sound of her horn pulled you back from your thoughts. You decided not to complain or contemplate repacking your case just one more time. Nancy would and has left you before for dilly dallying. You were lucky you could even find a ride out to Eddie’s. Steve was busy this week and none of your other friends even had their licenses. You lucked out when Nancy offered to give you a ride. She was heading that way anyways. There was a writer’s day convention in Indianapolis she wanted to attend. Lucky for you, the Women in Journalism panel started at 5:30pm. Nancy’d have plenty of time to drop you off and continue out towards the state capitol. You bounded down the stairs, almost tripping. Twice. You yelled your goodbye and promise to be home by 9pm to your parents as you slammed the door shut and made your way to Nancy’s car.

“Hey Wheeler! Thanks again for giving me a ride,” You burst out, completely out of breath.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nancy politely waved you off. Still, you felt inclined to return the favor.

“No, honestly, Nance. I owe you one. You name it and I’m there,” You smiled as you buckled yourself in and Nancy focused on backing out of your driveway. “Well,” Nancy said, “You know I could use some help at next week’s basketball game. Fred is bailing on me.” Nancy’s eyes flitted toward you to gauge your reaction. She must have thought you’d turn the suggestion down immediately, but you smiled and replied, “You got it, Wheeler.” Nancy sighed in relief and your light conversation moved to other topics: music, clothes, the seriously gross Friday Special the cafeteria tried to pass off as food last week. You enjoyed spending time with Nancy Wheeler.

It felt like before you could even blink, Nancy was pulling up to Eddie’s trailer. All of the excitement and energy you’d mustered up over the last 24 hours seemed to form into one giant lump, heavy and sinking to the bottom of your stomach. You were nervous. Nancy, the angel that she is, sensed your hesitancy to exit the car and she placed her hand on your shoulder. “Good luck! You know my brother says Eddie can seem really scary at first, but he’s just a big ole nerd.” If you didn’t know Nancy better, you’d have thought her words of encouragement were just to get you out of her car so she could be on her way. But Nancy Wheeler was nothing if not genuine. You took a deep breath and nodded at her. You got out of the passenger seat and grabbed your guitar case from the backseat.

Nancy waited while you approached Eddie’s door, your feet almost tangling in the tall, overgrown weeds near his steps. You looked back once, and Nancy gave you a small double thumbs up and big smile. Your tension eased the tiniest bit more. A shaky hand came up to rap twice on the wooden door, a few peeling paint chips falling down. What was only 5 seconds to the world felt like an eternity to you. You had half a mind to tell Nancy to wait. That you wanted to go to the convention with her instead and you’d changed your mind. But as you considered the plan, the door swung open.

Oh.

You’d seen Eddie Munson countless times. You’d attended the same high school for years. He was an outcast, but he was loud. It was hard not to notice him. But seeing him like this, leaning against his door frame clad only in sweatpants and a cropped and tattered megadeath t-shirt, was like seeing him for the first time all over again. It nearly knocked the wind out of you. Of course, you admired Eddie. He took shit from no one and was unapologetically himself. He was more than just something to look at. But oh my, was he really something to look at.

“Hey,” He said your name gently with a soft smile on his face. You could barely hold eye contact with him without feeling like you were going to fall over. He looked past you for a moment and raised his hand to wave at Nancy before you heard the telltale sign of her backing up and pulling away, leaving you alone. Alone with Eddie Munson. You did your best to smile normally and look him in the eyes, “I brought my own guitar if that’s okay?” Eddie gave you a quizzical look, “Well, I was counting on it. Would be a little time consuming trying to teach you with just one. Doable, but tedious.” He stepped back and made a sweeping motion with his hand to welcome you inside. You righted yourself and walked in.

“So, uh, is it just us then?” You asked.

“Yeah, you just missed my uncle, actually. Got the whole place to ourselves.”

Eddie brushed past you as you stood awkwardly in the middle of his living room. He continued down the hall and was gone for a moment. A mess of curls popped back into the room, “You comin or what?”

“Coming where?”

“To my room,” he said it so casually. As if this wouldn’t be the first time you were in your crush’s room.

You stared at him for a moment more. He nodded back down the hall, motioning for you to come on. “Oh, right!” You laughed nervously, “Of course. I’m right behind you.” Your feet pulled you towards Eddie’s room.

You had imagined what his room might look like. It didn’t disappoint, though it was surprising a bit cleaner than you expected it to be. There were posters everywhere of bands you only knew from the patches on Eddie’s backpack and denim vest. Some of them were quite intimidating. Eddie had claimed a spot on a makeshift stool made of milk crates. He pointed towards the end of his bed, signaling for you to sit there. You made your way over and laid your case on the side of the bed to get your guitar out.

“So, uh,” Eddie gave your guitar an odd look before looking back up to you, “I guess we can start with a few easy riffs. Maybe teach you some power chords to get you started.”

“Great!” You said quickly, seating yourself on the end of the bed, bringing your guitar over your lap.

“Right so, anatomy of your guitar. This,” he pointed to the fretboard, “is your fretboard.”

Eddie goes on to explain more about the anatomy of a guitar, stuff you already knew. You sort of found it endearing. To be fair, you never told him you played. This eased your nerves a bit, knowing that you might have the chance to end up impressing him.

“You think you got it?” Eddie asked, not in a condescending way. Rather in a worried way that he wanted to make sure you weren’t confused on anything so he could move on.

“Yeah, totally.”

“So, I want to actually teach you a scale really quick. The more scales you learn, the easier it’ll be to improvise some sick solos.”

“Scales? Oh, I thought maybe, y’know, you could teach me a song?”

“Well, we can get to that. But let’s start with this first, yeah?”

You were a smidge disappointed. You’d hoped to come to Eddie and learn how to be a badass with your guitar, not the quiet and meek musician you’d been taught to be. You wanted to, as cringey as it sounded, rock. Eddie set off into explaining a pretty simple scale that you already knew. You executed it flawlessly. He was a bit taken aback but kept the lesson going and moved on to a few more scales. It went like this for half an hour. He’d break down a scale you knew, you’d play it back to him without hesitation.

“Y’know, you’re sort of a natural.” Eddie laughed. “You sure you’ve never played guitar before?”

Your eyes went wide as you stared down at your hands, “Well, ah…”

You took a glance up at the metalhead. His eyebrows were pinched together, truly a look of confusion.

“I never said I hadn’t played before.”

“What?”

“I said, I never said that I hadn’t played before. You never asked, but I’ve been playing for a couple years.”

Eddie just stared at you and you back at him. You could practically see the cogs turning in his brain before he blurted, “So, I just made an ass of myself assuming you knew nothing about guitar. Christ, I even explained the anatomy of your own guitar to you.” Eddie’s large hand came up to rub his face. You were quick to reassure him, “Oh, no. Eddie, I thought it was cute. Really!”

“Cute. Oh, this is so embarrassing,” he muttered.

Another thought seemed to hit him because he straightened up and looked back at you, eyes wide, “If you’ve been playing guitar for years, what’d you need me for?”

It was your turn to feel embarrassed. You were not set on telling Eddie anything about the real reason you wanted a lesson from him, so you played it off with a lie that was based on the truth. “I’ve never played anything other than classical before. I wanted to expand my range,” you hoped he didn’t pick up on the way your voice would pitch higher when you were trying to hide something. Eddie, none the wiser, took you at your word and set off in to breaking down one of his favorite Corroded Coffin songs for you.

Everything was going smoothly. That is, everything was going smoothly until you got to the section of the song with a guitar solo. Up to that point, the song had mostly just been power chords and a few flourishes. But the solo was entirely different. A mastery of technique and skill. Eddie’s fingers lightning fast on the fretboard. After three attempts, you had the solo down pat. The fourth play through and it was as if you’d practiced it for weeks. The smile on your face almost hurt. You were ecstatic to have been able to catch on so quickly. Sure, music was music. But, to you, the differences between playing classical and metal were endless. You found yourself feeling cool even.

Looking up to Eddie, you noticed his posture and expression had changed a bit. Had you played it wrong? Did you add your own embellishment that upset him? He seemed a bit less into your lesson than he had before he started teaching you the song. You figured you’d ask him how that was. Maybe he had some constructive criticism that would help you perfect the song. But your question seemed to roll off him, “It was good.” His smile was tight. He was holding back, but you figured you had no right to push. He was already going out of his way to teach you an original song, something he wrote and put his blood, sweat, and tears into.

You wanted to try and lighten the mood, leave your lesson on a high note not whatever you had accidentally done to piss Eddie off. “You know, your solo? It’s so intricate. It reminds me of this Granados piece,” you rambled as you set the pick Eddie gave you aside to go for a finger picking approach. You beautifully executed the section of Granados’s song that reminded you of the solo Eddie had written, hoping it’d flatter him. Once you’d finished and looked back up at him, you saw it seemed to have the opposite effect. Eddie, sweet and adorable Eddie, seemed visibly upset. The silence that filled the room was suffocating. Suddenly, you were very aware of the sound of your own breath.

A pause.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” You asked cautiously.

He scoffed.

Somehow everything was going all wrong. He had graciously invited you to his place and took you up on your request of a lesson and here you were upsetting him. How you upset him, you have no idea. But the thought of it made the pit in your stomach from before come back tenfold.

“Wrong?” Eddie repeated, like he was weighing the word in his mouth. Deciding on whether he wanted to say more or leave it be. “Nothing’s wrong,” he laughs, but it feels more annoyed than lighthearted. “I just teach you my solo and here you come playing it better than me.” It was like the anger couldn’t stay in his body, it didn’t belong there. It was entirely misplaced. He wanted to be upset, but he really couldn’t. “And then you launch into this amazing piece without a pick!”

“Wait, are you…. jealous?” You say the last word carefully, unsure of how he’ll react.

“I guess that’s one word for it.”

“There’s no way.”

“Way,” he sighed.

“Eddie, I only asked you for a lesson because I was jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me? Why the hell would you be jealous of me?”

You set your guitar to the side and leaned forward a bit, “Eddie, I saw you at battle of the bands. Everyone saw you, but I saw how you made everyone in that audience look at you whether they wanted to or not. No one could deny your talent. You owned that stage. I wish I could be able to do something like that.”

Eddie was looking at you with his eyes wide. He didn’t think anyone except Uncle Wayne and the club would really remember their win. The other attendees were mostly drunks, bar flies that would have shown up regardless. It was foreign to him that anyone would actually be jealous of him, let alone someone with as much talent as you.

“But you could do something like that. You don’t need me,” Eddie assures you, “That finger picking shit you just whipped out would blow anyone away.”

“Oh, please,” you laugh, “it’ll put anyone to sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but let’s not pretend that classical guitar is capturing the hearts of most audiences. I wish I could be like you are. Sure of myself. Fearless.”

Eddie blushes at that.

There’s another silence, this one less tense as you two look at each other. More praises for one another dying on both of your tongues.

“How’s about this,” you started, “you teach me to be more confident when playing, since you are the master.” Eddie perked up at the title, you made note of that. “And I’ll show you some classical techniques like finger picking.” You smile at him hoping he’d agree.

A lazy grin takes over Eddie’s face as he nods slightly and you could have sworn his eyes darted down to your lips, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

It was your turn for heat to rush to your face.

It looks like you’d be seeing a bunch more of Eddie Munson in the near future.

end.

#Eddie munson #Eddie munsons x reader #eddie munson fanfic #Joseph quinn #stranger things #netflix #writing rules #ao3 writer #Eddie Munson request #Eddie Munson fic

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b1gerror · 2 years

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“ HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DINGUS. ” 2 weeks after the mall burned down, 2 weeks since your vow of never becoming friends with steve ‘the hair’ harrington was broken. ᴬᴺᴰ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴴᴵˢ ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴᴰᴬʸ, felt like an admission of something, how easily enemy turned to friend and is slipping into best friend. ASK ME TOMORROW, an invitation. you don’t think you had spent a day without him since, but you supposed being interrogated, then drugged, then almost dying from some massive shadow monster and the guy from your ³ᴿᴰ ᴾᴱᴿᴵᴼᴰ history class did that to people. you knew it was his birthday, not from anything said, but from the triple underlined date in your sophomore year journal— - ‘JULY 20TH. it’s harrington’s birthday today, i heard tammy talk about it when she came to see a film. i’m sure his hair looks extra stupid, enough product to ᴰᴵˢᵀᵁᴿᴮ some ecosystem somewhere.’ look at you now, a year’s gone by and your standing at his door, shoddily wrapped present in hands. you didn’t even know what he liked, what do you get something for someone who appears to have everything? inside the box: a copy of karate kid ⁽ᴬ ᴺᴼᵀᴱ: if i’m going to hang out with you, you need a better movie taste), russian: ᶠᴼᴿ ᴮᴱᴳᴵᴺᴺᴱᴿˢ, just in case you found yourself in that situation again, better you both learned? and the polaroid from the first day you worked together, you in front with a grin, him sulking in the background, unaware that a month later, your life would be forever changed.

a year on, months after the world (the town..?) died, the air thick and acting as a constant reminder of that day, of the deaths that weighed on you...&ᴴᴵᴹ. it still didn’t feel right to celebrate anything, but the day couldn’t just pass by. you aren’t good at buying gifts. ᴬ⁾ you had no money. family video hadn’t exactly been getting a lot of business with the end of the world and all. ᴮ⁾ you can’t ask your parents, they had long set off to texas to stay with your grandparents, asked you to pack up the house for them before they try and sell. THEY DID ASK YOU TO LEAVE WITH THEM, that counted for something, right? but that was never an option, you weren’t going to leave the kids, the town that you hated, or steve.. ᴶᵁᴸʸ ²⁰ᵀᴴ ¹⁹⁸⁶. it was just you and him in his apartment, something that felt strange these days, so used to the constant presence of the kids just needing somewhere safe. you had gotten up at 6am, tried, and failed to cook breakfast, presented him with burnt toast, runny eggs, and soggy cereal paired with out-of-date milk. the cake at dinner time turned out better, having since went for groceries as a way to ᴺᴼᵀ ruin the entire day, and beg the pizza shop a town over to enter hawkins. a week earlier, you had to beg nancy to drive you to indianapolis to find a copy of 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚊, scraped together whatever savings were left to buy it + the gas money, but it was worth it.

the last part of your gift had taken the longest, but you were suddenly grateful for your incessant need to not just enjoy a moment but to photograph it too— a scrapbook with memories created over the last year, not just you two but the kids as well, placed inside a shoe box with miscellaneous items. a rock that would have been round if not ˢᴼᴹᴱᴴᴼᵂ attached to another— (steve said it was you and him, you compared it to his hair.) ticket stubs from the best movies over the year, marked with your rating 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝟷𝟶, a copy of fast times (already set to 53 minutes and 5 seconds), and a custom mixtape of his favourite songs that you complained about every car ride. the bottom of the box was the last picture before the world went to hell, march 10th, your 18th birthday, but the note inscribed on the back was more recent.

dear steve, ( @k1ngdingus ) if you find this box before your birthday, please act like you’ve never seen it, but truthfully? i wanted to have it ready before then. we don’t know what’s going to happen, we don’t know when he’s going to come back, and frankly? ᴵ'ᴹ ˢᶜᴬᴿᴱᴰ i’m scared i’m not going to be there to see your stupid face open it, but i don’t want to focus on that reality. because i’m going to be there, and so are you, and so are the kids because if i can see them, i know that they’re safe, and i know that you’re as happy as you can be right now. you might not remember me from mrs click’s class, but i remember you. i told you before, it was like this obsession, that if i could just yell at you and shake some sense into that pea sized brain of yours, you might see that tammy wanted you, how could you have been so blind? obviously then i realised that i wanted to be you, not ᴹᴿ ᴾᴼᴾᵁᴸᴬᴿ but someone who was liked. i thought that summer was going to be my own personal hell, seeing your stupid hair over the booth, being told that hey, it’ll bring in customers. barf, a whole summer of watching steve harrington flirt? but believe it or not, you weren’t a total asshole, i was mean to you every single day, and yet you didn’t seem to care. you became my best friend that summer, steve. and i don’t think i’d trade it for anything, even if it meant i’d be oblivious to the upside down and secret russians and girls with superpowers. my life became more interesting the day i met you. happy birthday steve. love, robin P.S. if it’s ᴺᴼᵀ july 20th and you got this far, i’m going to kill you.

robin doesn’t know how to love people, but for him? she’ll figure it out.

#k1ngdingus #happy bday steve ik u'd be like 50 smth rn but i'll pour one out for u

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rthko · 2 years

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He calls me the Indianapolis Business Journal the way IBJ

#john green quotes

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independentjournalism · 1 month

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Indianapolis Police Warn Against Counterfeit $100 Bill Scheme Across Central Indiana

🚨 Alert! 🚨 Detectives in Indianapolis are sounding the alarm about counterfeit $100 bills making the rounds. Businesses, residents, and employees, take note! Learn how to spot fake currency and protect your hard-earned money. 💵

By JTP, of Independent Journalism and Media Published on March 27, 2024 Indianapolis, Indiana – Detectives with the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department (IMPD) have issued a warning to business owners, employees, and residents about an ongoing counterfeit $100 bill scheme in central Indiana. The perpetrators have been using fake $100 bills for various transactions, including purchasing…

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#Community Support #Counterfeit Bills #Crime Prevention #Education #Empowerment #Independent journalism #Indianapolis #Media #Mentorship

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southjerseyweb · 3 months

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Lilly factory in New Jersey comes under more federal scrutiny - Indianapolis Business Journal

A factory in New Jersey belonging to Indianapolis-based drugmaker Eli Lilly and Co. has run into more manufacturing problems during a federal …

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pimpernals · 2 years

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PAM HOWARD.

GENERAL.

NAME pamela grace howard

ALIASES pam

AGE eighteen

BIRTHDATE november 15, 1966

GENDER female

SEXUALITY unsure

STATUS single

ETHNICITY white

NATIONALITY american

BIRTHPLACE indianapolis, indiana

RESIDENCE hawkins, indiana

OCCUPATION cashier at the arcade

PHYSICAL.

HEIGHT 5’9”

WEIGHT 133 lbs

BODY TYPE mesomorph

SKIN TONE fair

HAIRSTYLE curly

HAIR COLOR blonde

EYE COLOR blue

SCARS one on her right cheekbone

FACECLAIM clara novak

PERSONALITY.

TRAITS judgmental, guarded, when she doesn't like you it's obvious, deep down is kind

HABITS plays with scrunchie round her wrist when bored

HOBBIES cheer, writing, playing the occasional arcade game, hatewatching bad movies

FAMILY.

FATHER dr. george howard

MOTHER dr. virginia howard

SISTER beverley howard

BROTHER thomas howard, christopher howard, brendon howard

SIGNIFICANT OTHER michael crow (off-on again boyfriend)

SON verse dependent

DAUGHTER verse dependent

EXTRA.

MBTI tba.

ENNEAGRAM tba.

ALIGNMENT tba.

HISTORY.

parents moved their family to a small town from the capital because they claimed they needed "fresher air" and there were better opportunities for them at a different, less crowded hospital. pam thinks they moved because her parents were mad at her for failing two of her classes and needing to take summer school. the school distract was different out here, which mean she hadn't failed those classes since the kids here hadn't taken them.

hates, hates, hates school, but pam found cheer that way and she loves it. most of the time she's either at practice or at work ( "i couldn't do my homework yesterday, mom, i was too busy " ). would rather be writing if she's stuck at home.

initially insanely jealous of chrissy when she got promoted to cheer captain, but decided she would rather not be in a leadership role.

her parents want her to become doctors like them, though pam isn't fond of the idea of going to school for that long. she's more interesting in pursing a career in journalism.

the earthquake of '86 killed her sister.

goes on to become an investigative journalist.

#interaction: p. howard #aesthetic: p. howard #study: p. howard #headcanon: p. howard #visage: p. howard

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datascraping001 · 4 months

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thebiographytribune · 5 months

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Danielle Trotta

Danielle Trotta - A Person with a Highly Accomplished Career in the Sports Journalism Arena

About

Born in Westchester County, New York State, USA, on March 13, 1981, Trotta works as a sports broadcast journalist. She is most recognized for her collaboration with Sirius XM on their coverage of auto racing. She co-hosted Fox Sports 1's "NASCAR Race Hub" in the past.

Early Years and the Start of a Career

Danielle grew up with a younger sister in Westchester County. Due to the family business, the family relocated to Richmond, Indiana when she was ten years old, and then to Carmel. She worked as a reporter and host for the school's 24-hour local channel while attending Carmel High School, where she also developed an interest in broadcasting. She participated in three state swimming and diving championships as a highly active athlete.

Her Net Worth

What is Danielle Trotta's net worth? According to sources, as of mid-2018, he had a net worth of more than $2 million, which he acquired via a prosperous career in sports broadcasting. She worked for Fox as an NFL and Xfinity Series reporter as well. It's expected that her wealth will rise in tandem with her professional endeavors.

Humble Beginnings of Her Career

Following her matriculation, she attended four different East Coast colleges before deciding to attend the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, where Danielle Trotta earned a degree in mass journalism. She completed internships with WBTV and other television stations in Charlotte and Indianapolis while she was there. She worked as a photographer in addition to being hired by WBTV as a weekend news editor after graduating. Eventually, she persuaded the management to give her a chance in front of the camera, and in 2007 she made her on-screen debut hosting shows like "The Point After with D&D" and "Sports Saturday Night."

Growth in Sports Media

Trotta joined the station's sports department in 2006 because she loved reporting on sports-related topics, especially those involving high school athletes overcoming obstacles on and off the pitch. Before choosing to join Fox Sports, she worked at WBTV until 2010, when she was honoured with a Radio Television Digital News Association of the Carolinas Award. After that, she was employed by "The ACC Blizz," the pre-game and halftime program on the ACC Network.

She Obtained Higher Positions In The Sports Arena.

Danielle debuted as a sideline reporter for Fox NFL at the same time she hosted "NASCAR RaceDay." After serving in the same role for two years, she made the public announcement that she was leaving Fox Sports and "NASCAR Race Hub" to pursue other opportunities. Shannon Spake took over her position. She began covering auto racing events for Sirius XM, a radio station, shortly after she left. Later on, she expressed gratitude to Fox for assisting her in pursuing new opportunities and excitement about continuing to advance her career by taking on new challenges. She began employment with NBC Sports Boston as well.

Conclusion

She is a successful and famous sports journalist who has made it big in the industry. She also continues to work today. Visit biographytribune.com/where-is-danielle-trotta-now-her-wiki-wedding-new-job-salary-married-net-worth for more information.

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socialpipes · 11 months

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Simon expands availability of mall-wide online search tool - Indianapolis Business Journal

http://dlvr.it/SqpVVc

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indstatescob · 11 months

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Indiana State alumnus Rob Lowe SPHR, SHRM-SPC, CCM will be keynote speaker at next week’s Indianapolis Business Journals HR Impact Awards.

Rob is the Vice President of People and Culture for Republic Airways, where he provides executive leadership for employee engagement, talent management, diversity, equity & inclusion, and culture alignment.

He graduated from Indiana State with a degree in Business Management and later a master’s degree in Human Resource Development. In June 2022, Indiana Governor Eric Holcomb appointed Rob to Indiana State University's Board of Trustees.

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gathersroses · 2 years

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PAM HOWARD.

GENERAL.

NAME pamela grace howard

ALIASES pam

AGE eighteen

BIRTHDATE november 15, 1966

GENDER female

SEXUALITY unsure

STATUS single

ETHNICITY white

NATIONALITY american

BIRTHPLACE indianapolis, indiana

RESIDENCE hawkins, indiana

OCCUPATION cashier at the arcade

PHYSICAL.

HEIGHT 5’9”

WEIGHT 133 lbs

BODY TYPE mesomorph

SKIN TONE fair

HAIRSTYLE curly

HAIR COLOR blonde

EYE COLOR blue

SCARS one on her right cheekbone

FACECLAIM clara novak

PERSONALITY.

TRAITS judgmental, guarded, when she doesn't like you it's obvious, deep down is kind

HABITS plays with scrunchie round her wrist when bored

HOBBIES cheer, writing, playing the occasional arcade game, hatewatching bad movies

FAMILY.

FATHER dr. george howard

MOTHER dr. virginia howard

SISTER beverley howard

BROTHER thomas howard, christopher howard, brendon howard

SIGNIFICANT OTHER michael crow (off-on again boyfriend)

SON verse dependent

DAUGHTER verse dependent

EXTRA.

MBTI tba.

ENNEAGRAM tba.

ALIGNMENT tba.

HISTORY.

initially insanely jealous of chrissy when she got promoted to cheer captain, but decided she would rather not be in a leadership role.

her parents want her to become doctors like them, though pam isn't fond of the idea of going to school for that long. she's more interesting in pursing a career in journalism.

the earthquake of '86 killed her sister.

goes on to become an investigative journalist.

#interaction: p. howard #aesthetic: p. howard #study: p. howard #headcanon: p. howard #visage: p. howard

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okgooglenews · 1 year

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I'm an SVB employee who lost more than $1 million. Here's the inside story of our struggle to survive. - Business Insider

* I'm an SVB employee who lost more than $1 million. Here's the inside story of our struggle to survive. Business Insider * 'It was agony': Why SVB's collapse is especially hard as a Black founder, says CEO CNBC * Banking upheaval presents opportunity – Indianapolis Business Journal Indianapolis Business Journal * Opinion | This Column Is Dedicated to Silicon Valley Venture Capitalists The New York Times * Has the Silicon Valley Bank crisis been averted? Don't be so sure San Francisco Chronicle * View Full Coverage on Google News http://dlvr.it/SlT7KZ

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venusstadt · 1 year

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youtube

The Met Gala. Fashion Week. Two facets of the New York fashion scene that are now so ubiquitous that it’s hard to imagine what the fashion industry would be like without them.

So it’s surprising that, despite how well-recognized these two events are, very few people discuss Eleanor Lambert, the woman who started it all.

Hello, and welcome to VENUSSTADT, a channel devoted to discussing women and gender in the realm of arts and culture. I’m Jiana; today, I’ll be covering Eleanor Lambert, the famed fashion publicist who helped lift the American fashion industry into international prominence.

EARLY LIFE.

Eleanor Olive Lambert was born August 10, 1903, in Crawsfordville, Indiana (Collins 2004), a city which at the time had around 6,700 citizens. Her father, Henry Clay Lambert, was a newspaper publisher-turned-circus advance man, going ahead of companies like Ringling Brothers and P.T. Barnum & Bailey during tours to publicize show dates, leaving behind his five children, including Eleanor, with their mother Helen (Collins 2004).

Early on, Eleanor displayed an interest in the arts. She attended the John Herron Art Institute in Indianapolis to study sculpture, using the money she earned from cooking and preparing meals for other college students and writing a shopping column for The Indiana Star and the Fort-Wayne Journal Gazette (Collins 2004). After marrying her first husband and moving to Illinois, she briefly attended the Art Institute in Chicago (Collins 2004). However, she eventually gave up her sculpting dreams, saying, “I have always loved and been inspired by beauty, but I realized quite early on that my own artistic production was mediocre. One has to know when one isn’t up to the task” (Thurman).

In 1925, Lambert moved from Illinois to New York City (Collins 2004). By this time, she had divorced her first husband, and made a living of around $32 a week writing a fashion newsletter called Breath of the Avenue and working as a book publicist (Collins 2004; Harbster 2012). After observing her passion for promotion, Franklin Spears, her boss at the book company, recommended she start her own publicity business using his office (Wilson 2003; Collins 2004). Thus, she struck it solo, visiting various art galleries on New York’s 57th street and offering to do publicity for them for a weekly fee of $10 ($165 today), an offer which 10 galleries accepted (“Eleanor Lambert” 2022). Her early artist clients included Isamu Noguchi, Salvador Dali, and Jackson Pollock (Collins 2004; Harbster 2012). Eleanor also represented large entities, such as the American Art Dealers Association and the Whitney Museum of Art when it was founded in 1930 (Collins 2004).

CAREER.

Eleanor first entered the fashion world in 1932, after being contacted by designer Annette Simpson, who saw Eleanor’s publicity work in a newspaper (Collins 2004; Diliberto 2009). Though Annette never ended up paying Eleanor for any promotion work, she did inspire Lambert to go into fashion promotion (Collins 2004).

At the time Eleanor had arrived in New York, American designers were not as recognized as those in Paris, which was the fashion capital of the world (Harbster 2012) and had been since the days of King Louis XIV, who used the French fashion industry as a “soft power” to culturally dominate the Western world (Diliberto, 2009). Department stores and manufacturer’s encouraged American designers to copy Parisian designers, and most wealthy women got their clothing directly from Paris (Diliberto, 2009). Plus, New York fashion magazines like Harper’s Bazaar, Vogue, and Women’s Wear Daily exclusively covered French designers (Harbster 2012).

When Eleanor became interested in the fashion world, she decided she wanted to change this. According to Vanity Fair’s Amy Fine Collins, Lambert figured, “If American art was recognized as a legitimate school…why not American fashion? And why, for that matter, did Americans design anonymously, with only a manufacturer’s name on the label, when their French counterparts were world-famous?” (Collins 2004).

Diana Vreeland, who at the time was an editor for Harper’s Bazaar, basically called Eleanor crazy when Eleanor shared this idea, but Eleanor did not let this stop her (Collins 2004)! She began to shift to fashion publicity and put her all into promoting American designers, including supporting the Museum of Costume Art when it was founded in 1937 (Nemy 2003; Young 2012). Later, when the Museum was absorbed into the Metropolitan Museum of Art and became the Costume Institute, Eleanor Lambert devised a fundraising dinner referred to as the Costume Institute Benefit (Young 2012).

By 1939, her clients included, according to Jennifer Harbster, “department stores, beauty brands, perfumes, [and] American and European fashion designers” as well as “hotels, art galleries, nightclubs, [and] restaurants” (Harbster 2012).

Major opportunities to support the fashion industry came in the 1940s, after Eleanor became the New York Dress Institute’s press director (Nemy 2003; Collins 2004; Harbster 2012). World War II began in Europe in 1939, and in June 1940, Paris fell under Nazi occupation (De La Haye 2020). Like the rest of the French art scene, the Paris fashion industry took a hit as its aesthetics were deemed by the Nazis to be “corruptive” and “degenerate.” Its fashion publications shuttered, and resources refocused on servicing Nazi elite as opposed to the rest of the world (De La Haye 2020).

With Paris now isolated, there was a void in fashion which multiple New York department stores and manufacturers sought to fill with American products. That same year, the New York Dress Institute formed during the war to promote New York fashion and fill this void (Collins 2004). To advertise clothing, they initially approached the J. Walter Thompson agency, who created ads based heavily on pro-American propaganda (Collins 2004). The advertisements chided American women for only having one dress in Paris’ absence, while another utilized imagery of Martha Washington tending to dying soldiers (Collins 2004). Though these ads helped the dresses sell, the department store owners considered them tacky, and sought Eleanor’s expertise (Collins 2004).

The first thing that Eleanor did when she became the Dress Institute’s press director was demand they promote their designers (Collins 2004). This was accomplished by forming the Dress Institutes’ “Couture Group,” a group of the manufacturer’s best designers, which included Nettie Rosenstein, Jo Copeland, Maurice Rentner, and Hattie Carnegie (Collins 2004).

To further promote the Couture Group and American designers, Lambert in 1943 created New York Press Week (Collins 2004) where journalists could convene in one building on Seventh Avenue to cover collection showings (Diliberto 2009; Harbster 2012). Whereas prior to Press Week, only local NY journalists could cover collection showings, Eleanor offered to pay for the travel expenses of non-NY journalists so that they could spread the word in other areas of the United States (Collins 2004). Only a third of the journalists Eleanor invited showed up to the first Press Week in January 1943 (Diliberto 2009), but the novelty and convenience of Press Week helped it become more popular and respected as years went by.

One other idea that Eleanor implemented for the Dress Institute was the International Best-Dressed list, which began shortly after she became press director in 1940 (Collins 2004; “Eleanor Lambert” 2003). The idea wasn’t wholly original; Eleanor had borrowed it from the Paris Best-Dressed List, which had ceased operations under Nazi occupation as well (“Eleanor Lambert” 2003).

“I was desperate, reaching for anything that might help,” Eleanor said later of her decision to appropriate the list (Collins 2004).

To start, she sent out fifty ballots to international fashion experts like John Frederics, Jo Copeland, Lilly Daché, and the Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar editors (Collins 2004). The first list was topped by a woman named “Mrs. Williams;” others included socialites Dorothy H. Hirshon (then Dorothy Paley) and Millicent Rogers (Collins 2004). The second list in 1941 included fashion icons and celebrities like Diana Vreeland, Barbara Cushing, and Rosalind Russell, as well as Madame Chiang, and Wallis Simpson, Duchess of Windsor (Collins 2004).

People included on the list were informed by a telegram, that stated:

“I have the honor to inform you that you have been designated to the newly created Fashion Hall of Fame of the International Best-Dressed Poll conducted annually by [the] Couture Group [of the] New York Dress Institute in permanent recognition [of] your distinguished tasted in dress without ostentation or extravagance. Announcement will be made January 5, meanwhile confidential” (Collins 2004).

The list was rather influential. People begged to be on the list, with one person even trying to bribe Eleanor with $50,000 (Collins 2004). First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote a complaint to Eleanor Lambert because she was not included on the list; while Byron Foy, a filmmaker whose finances were being investigated, complained that his wife was on the list because he didn’t want it to seem like his wife was spending too much money on fashion (Collins 2004). But the list wasn’t without its detractors. One of the most vocal was John Fairchild, editor-in-chief of Women’s Wear Daily, who called the list “a gimmick and a bunch of rot” (Collins 2004).

John Fairchild and Eleanor Lambert were basically industry rivals (Wilson 2003). John, the grandson of Fairchild Publishing founder Edmund Fairchild and turned Women’s Wear Daily into the “fashion Bible” during his tenure, worked briefly in Paris and was known for making or breaking designers (he was famous for feuds with designers like Valentino, Balenciaga, and Givenchy), heavily promoted Parisians and was often at odds with Eleanor over her promotion of Americans (Collins 2004).

“Fairchild wanted to decide everything to do with fashion,” former Tiffany & Co. director John Loring said to Vanity Fair in 2004. “If it weren’t for Eleanor, his power would’ve been absolute” (Collins 2004).

In the 50s, Eleanor represented designers, manufacturers, and industry groups like International Silk Association—basically most of the fashion industry (Collins 2004). Her day-to-day tasks included sending pictures to newspapers, arranging TV interviews, and admitting journalists to press week (Collins 2004).

“There wasn’t a soul on Seventh Avenue who didn’t have Eleanor behind her,” Joe Eula, who helped Eleanor produce the March of Dimes, said to Vanity Fair. “If you couldn’t afford her, and you wanted her, she’d work for free” (Collins 2004).

Eleanor took a brief break in 1959 when her second husband, Seymour Berkson, died of a heart attack. She went through deep depression, which she used her work to pull herself out of (Collins 2004).

After 1960, following the election of JFK, First Lady Jackie Kennedy, as well as her sister Lee Radziwill and friend Jayne Wrightsman, were all included on the Best-Dressed List (Collins 2004). Previously, Eleanor had helped Jackie endear herself to the American fashion press by introducing Jackie to Oleg Cassini after Jackie had been criticized by Women’s Wear Daily for wearing French fashion (“Museum at FIT”).

In 1962, Eleanor parted ways with the Dress Institute after what Vanity Fair called “a clash…between manufacturers and designers over Press Week show dates (which she viewed as a battle between commerce and creativity)” (Collins 2004).

From there, she went on to found the Council of Fashion Designers of America, the goal of which was to “further the position of fashion design as a recognized branch of American arts and culture” and to “advance [the trade’s] artistic and professional needs” (CFDA Staff 2012, 10).

“I’ve always said that getting people together as a community helps further their identity as a whole,” Eleanor later told WWD. “We were a group of people of equal qualifications and equal thoughts about moving forward” (CFDA Staff 2012, 10).

While the implementation of Press Week, the Best-Dressed List, and the CFDA all helped boost the American fashion industry’s reputation domestically, perhaps the Eleanor’s best and most well-known effort was the 1973 Battle of Versailles, which helped boost the credibility of American fashion designers internationally (Collins 2004; Harbster 2012).

Gerald van der Kemp, then the curator of Versailles, suggested that Lambert arrange a fundraising event to help restore the queen’s bedroom in Palace of Versailles (Wilson 2003; Fashion By Look 2013). To generate press, Eleanor conceptualized the Grand Divertissement á Versailles, best known as Battle of Versailles, in which American and French fashion designers would face off against each other (Harbster 2012; Borelli-Persson 2022).

Eleanor chose designers Bill Blass, Stephen Burrows, Oscar de la Renta, Anne Klein, and Halston to represent the Americans, while Givenchy, Yves St. Laurent, Marc Bohan for Dior, Pierre Cardin, and Emmanuel Ungaro were chosen by Marie-Hélène Rothschild and a committee (Harbster 2012). The guest list for the event included figures like Princess Grace of Monaco and Madame Grès, and a weeks’ worth of parties preceded and followed the event (Borelli-Persson 2022).

The Battle of Versailles wasn’t simply a battle of designers, but a battle of culture as well. Josephine Baker and Liza Minelli performed for the French and Americans, respectively; and the difference in the way of the old guard versus the new was evident in the Parisian’s direction choices—a star-studded cast, elaborate performances, grandiose set pieces—as opposed to the New Yorker’s snappy, relaxed flow (Borelli-Persson 2022).

Though the feature-film length display of the French designers certainly affirmed their grandiosity, the consensus among the guests and press who attended was that the American designers took the night, with their laid-back presentation, lively models, and up-to-date tastes.

“The entire French half of the evening was built around glories of the past,” journalist Eugenia Sheppard wrote for the Los Angeles Times in December 1972. “The Paris designers who opened the evening’s entertainment…did everything in their power to confirm the rumor that made-to-order fashion is going out of date. The stage settings were about as contemporary as a bustle and equally as cumbersome” (Borelli-Persson 2022).

In an interview with Women’s Wear Daily shortly before her death, Eleanor Lambert said that she did not set out to “prove” the worth of American designers to the French, and that she only intended for the event to be fun (Wilson 2003). Still, she also said:

“We sure did prove we were equal. People threw their papers in the air and screamed and yelled. It was wonderful. I do feel very proud that American designers are equal to anyone in the world, including the French. They should have had that equality. Versailles was a hilarious and unforgettable thing. It was exciting because, by accident, it became a special thing that proved a point” (Wilson 2003).

In addition to showcasing the talents of New York designers, the Battle of Versailles also had the effect of highlighting Black American talent, such as designer Stephen Burrows and models Pat Cleveland and Bethann Hardison (Keong 2016) and led Givenchy to start its black model cabine consisting of Cleveland, Hardison, Billie Blair, Alva Chinn, Jennifer Brice, and Ramona Saunders (Keogh 2018).

Lambert continued promote American fashion until closing her office in 2002, as she was approaching the age of 100 (Wilson 2003). Tiffany & Co. was among her last clients (Wilson 2003). Though she wasn’t incredibly interested in contemporary fashion after her retirement, and declared fashion shows no longer worth looking at, her last public appearance was at New York Fashion Week, a month before her death in October 2003 (Wilson 2003; “Eleanor Lambert” 2003).

LEGACY.

Much of what Eleanor instituted continues to function today. Press Week has since evolved into New York Fashion Week, and other fashion weeks, such as those in Milan, Paris, and London, capture the attention of fashion buyers, journalists, and enthusiasts twice a year in the spring and fall (Diliberto 2009). The International Best-Dressed List is now controlled by Vanity Fair, who Lambert bequeathed it to prior to her death (Collins 2002). The Costume Institute Benefit, known today as the Met Gala, is now controlled by Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour. ‘Fashion’s Biggest Night’ continues to draw massive attention to the New York fashion scene and raises millions of dollars for the Costume Institute each year (Widjojo 2022). The Council of Fashion Designers of America is currently run by Steven Kolb, its CEO & President, and fashion designer Tom Ford, who functions as chairman. It continues to foster and highlight American designers through its annual awards ceremony, scholarships, and grants.

If you liked this video and would like to be notified for more like it, be sure to click the subscribe button below. I also provide updates via email and the social media links listed in the description below. For daily education and inspiration from women in the arts, feel free to follow my Instagram archive page also linked in the description. Thanks for watching.

•••

SOURCES

“Eleanor Lambert: Defining Decades of Fashion.” YouTube, uploaded by Fashion By Look, 21 November 2013, https://youtu.be/inaLhwknn0g.

“Eleanor Lambert.” Telegraph, 10 October 2003, https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/1443712/Eleanor-Lambert.html. Accessed 12 December 2022.

Borelli-Perrson, Laird. “Everything You Need to Know About the Battle of Versailles Before Seeing “In America: An Anthology of Fashion.” Vogue, 25 April 2022, https://www.vogue.com/article/everything-you-need-to-know-about-the-battle-of-versailles-before-seeing-in-america-an-anthology-of-fashion.

Collins, Amy Fine. “The Lady, the List, the Legacy.” Vanity Fair, 1 May 2004, https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2004/04/eleanor-lambert200404. Accessed 12 December 2022.

Diliberto, Gioia. “Eleanor of Seventh Avenue: Where Fashion Week Came From.” Huffington Post, 9 November 2009, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/eleanor-of-seventh-avenue_b_268619.

Harbster, Jennifer. “Eleanor Lambert—Empress of Seventh Avenue.” Library of Congress, 19 January 2012, https://blogs.loc.gov/inside_adams/2012/01/eleanor-lambert-empress-of-seventh-avenue/.

Keogh, Pamela. “How Hubert de Givenchy Brought Diversity to the Runway.” Vanity Fair, 13 March 2018, https://www.vanityfair.com/style/2018/03/hubert-de-givenchy-pat-cleveland.

Keong, Lori. “Relive the Magical Fashion Battle of Versailles.” The Cut, 8 March 2016, https://www.thecut.com/2016/03/relive-the-magical-fashion-battle-of-versailles.html.

Nemy, Enid. “Eleanor Lambert, Empress of Fashion, Dies at 100.” New York Times, 8 October 2003, https://www.nytimes.com/2003/10/08/nyregion/eleanor-lambert-empress-of-fashion-dies-at-100.html. Accessed 12 December 2022.

Thurman, Judith. “Eleanor Lambert: Fashioning a Lifestyle.” Hearst Magazines, March 2001, http://proxy.library.vcu.edu/login?url=https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=ip,url,cookie,uid&db=f5h&AN=4111195&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Widjojo, Conchita. “History of the Met Gala: How it Turned from Fundraiser to Fashion’s Biggest Night.” Women’s Wear Daily, 27 April 2022, https://wwd.com/fashion-news/fashion-scoops/met-gala-history-how-it-turned-from-fundraiser-to-fashions-biggest-night-1235167840/.

Wilson, Eric. “Eleanor Lambert Celebrates an American Fashion Century.” Women’s Wear Daily, 6 August 2003, https://wwd.com/fashion-news/fashion-features/eleanor-lambert-celebrates-an-american-fashion-century-723223/.

Young, Greg. “The Origin of the Met Gala and its Surprising Roots in the Lower East Side.” The Bowery Boys, 1 May 2012, https://www.boweryboyshistory.com/2022/05/the-met-gala-and-the-mets-costume-institute-trace-their-origins-to-a-lower-east-side-playhouse.html.

#new york fashion week #nyfw #met gala #fashion #fashion week #eleanor lambert #Youtube

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