The Reinvention of Harry Styles

While Harry attended the 'Dunkirk' premiere in France, Molly worked on the novel she was ghost writing. Or she tried to, at least. She had been trying to figure out exactly what Harry expected from her, and she realized maybe her 'job' went beyond just telling him where he went wrong with his first album promo and image.

When she'd asked him what he had intended, what he had actually wanted for his album, he said he didn't know what he wanted. Molly had joked that she was Pumba and Timon to Harry's Simba, but she was trying to figure out what that really meant. She was starting to think this went way beyond the scope of her being a former 1D fan with a marketing degree. When he returned from France, she got right back to working with Harry to sort this out.

One of the things that bothered her the most, she and Harry hadn't had a chance to talk about yet: his style. Harry had worn a bunch of bright and exciting suits while promoting his album. While they were fun to look at, they did not quite seem natural on him, and didn't exactly fit the music he was playing. Harry has said multiple times that this album is honest, and very 'him', so Molly wanted to find something that was truly 'Harry Styles' for him to wear.

"Someone said you look like a Gucci mannequin like the clothes are wearing you, instead of the other way around," Molly carefully worded as she hopped on the couch next to him.

"Sometimes I feel like that." Harry answered quietly.

"Your stylist...is he well? Perhaps he doesn't know what year it is?" Molly joked.

"Ha, very funny," Harry laughed. "He wants me to look like Prince, or David Bowie, very '70s."

"But why? It's not the '70s, and thank god for that."

"Why is that?" Harry raised his eyebrow.

"So many reasons, like, technology, for example. I don't know what I'd do without my phone! But, back to your clothes." Molly looked him in the eye. "You shouldn't let your clothes talk for you. It's certainly a part of your overall image, but it shouldn't be the main talking point."

“And what do you think I should wear?” Harry asked and raised an eyebrow, eager to see what she'd come up with.

"You should wear all white, to show that you're a blank canvas, starting over," Molly half jokingly suggested.

"All white? I'd probably get it dirty," Harry retorted.

"What about some tight, white, pants?" Molly smirked.

"Molly Winthrope, what are you suggesting?" Harry laughed.

"Nothing!" She squealed with laughter. "Just, that you always wore black skinny jeans in 1D, so if you wore white skinny jeans, or something like it, it would show that you're different, but not too different; underneath, you're still the same Harry."

"That kind of makes sense, but isn't it wrong to wear white after Labor Day or something?"

"I think Harry Styles can wear whatever the fuck he wants," Molly stated. "Besides, how long after Labor Day are you supposed to wait to wear white again?"

"I'm just not sure white is my color." Harry replied skeptically.

"We can at least try."

"What if I just wore the black skinny jeans again?" He suggested. "You said the fans liked that look."

"I liked it, for sure, I think others liked it much better than what you're doing now. We just need to strip away the layers, get down to the natural 'Harry' underneath the floral, sparkly suits.”

"You want me to strip?" Harry gave her a cheeky grin and reached for the hem of his shirt, jokingly lifting it just high enough to show the butterfly before Molly stopped him.

"Don't distract me, I don't need that right now." She closed her eyes and avoided his exposed abs. She sighed, "what was I saying? Damn you and your distracting body, Harry."

"You think I'm distracting?" Harry laughed and pulled his shirt back down.

"Very. Okay, I was talking about stripping, that's right." Molly put her hands to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut, as if she were trying to erase that image of Harry's naked torso. "Stripping paint, not clothes. Like, this fugly table my mom bought at a yard sale-"

"You think I'm a fugly table?" Harry joked, and pretended to be upset.

"Yes. The table was chipping paint like crazy and you could see all the layers and different colors of paint. It looked like someone repainted it every time the table got a chip or a scratch, just threw a new coat of paint on to cover it up." Molly glanced up at Harry to see if he was following her metaphor.

"You want to paint me?"

"No, I want to take all the paint off. Over the years you've been painted as boyfriend material, the womanizer, the cute charming one, the villain, Taylor's ex boyfriend, etc., and now, the rock star. I want to take all those layers off, and see the real Harry."

"So, what happened with your mum's fugly table?" Harry asked after a pause.

"She stripped the layers of paint off, and underneath was a beautiful oak table that just needed some sanding and a little wood oil to finish it off."

"You want to sand me, too? Ouch," Harry joked, though Molly could see the cogs turning in his brain. "So, does your mum refinish furniture often? Is she in interior decorating?"

Molly snorted a sarcastic laugh. "My mom is a stay at home suburban wife, and she goes through phases of hobbies on a regular basis. Refinishing furniture was one for a while, another was gardening (though I think that was just an excuse to hire a cute gardener when she messed up), and currently, she's really into doing paint nights, mostly because they serve wine."

"Your mum sounds like my kind of lady," Harry smirked, and Molly really hoped he was joking.

"She's taken, sorry. Kind of married, you know, to my father," Molly went along with his joke.

"Damn, I'll just have to settle for you," Harry teased, and again, Molly wondered if he was joking.

"Thanks," she replied sarcastically. "Though, if she knew you were even slightly interested, she'd be on the next flight over here."

"That's right, you said she was a directioner mom. Well," Harry leaned forward, "how convenient that we're going to New York in a couple days."

"New York? Why?"

"For the premiere."

"You want me to go to the premiere?"

"No, I just think you should come with me. You know, for appearances, and what not," he added.

"Right, Jeff." Molly nodded. "You don't actually want to meet my mom, right?"
"No, I don't think we need to complicate this by having your mom try to sleep with me."

"Or visa versa," Molly laughed. "We are way off topic."

"Sorry," he replied with a smirk.

"Okay, speaking of Jeff, some people joke that he keeps you locked up in his attic. That's why he's always with you when you're seen in public, like he's your handler. You should go somewhere without him."

"My handler?" Harry snickered. "We're friends, we go out together sometimes."

"Friends?" Molly shook her head. "Friends don't ruin other friends careers."

"He's not ruining it-"

"Right, it's a group effort. But he's at the head of that group, being your manager and all. What did you do to him to deserve this revenge? Sleep with his girlfriend, or little sister? Or, more appropriately for you, his mother?" Molly teased, and Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"His mother?" He laughed in surprise. "No, as far as I know, I haven't slept with anyone he cares about. I don't think this is intentional on his part, he just..."

"Really sucks at his job?" Molly offered.

"No, he's off to a rocky start, that's all." Harry looked like he didn't quite believe it himself, and Molly was not sold.

"Has he brainwashed you, is that it? Is it hypnotism? If he says pineapple, will you just magically fall asleep?"

"No, I mean, I hope not?"

"Regardless of hypnotism, I think it would good for you to be seen without him a few times. Go out on your own, if that's possible, or take a different friend - and I don't mean Nick Grimshaw. Someone you're friends with outside of work."

"Outside of work? You see, that's a problem, because work and life have become," Harry enmeshed his fingers together, "one."

"That's going to be a tough layer of paint to remove." Molly said seriously.

“And what if,” Harry said after a moment, returning her serious tone. “What if there’s nothing left under the paint? What if the paint has eaten away at the wood, tarnished it, tainted it beyond repair?”

“Then you’ll need a lot of sanding, and a lot of wood oil.”

Notes

I know nothing about men's fashion, I just really want to see harry in tight white pants!
Harry is quite good at changing the subject, have you seen his interviews? I don’t think he’s dodging questions, I think he just gets off topic easily (as we’ve seen here)
Things got kind of serious there at the end, but it kind of had to.
Thank you for reading, voting, and commenting!! : D

PS. I hope my table refinishing metaphor made sense?