When Love’s In Fashion

Chapter 2

Carl Marefield didn’t have sample size sixteen but they were able to procure something for her to wear to the show with a minimum of bi*ching. The reduced bi*ching might have had something to do with Elmira snap chatting the entire experience. Her fans were plus sized women who had felt excluded from high fashion for too long. What with the economic climate, designers could not afford to turn up their noses at that segment of the market anymore.

“You have a wonderful figure though, I envy you,” the preternaturally thin and pale blonde who was taking her measurements said.

Elmira’s brow lifted, “Really. You’re envious of all this?” she asked indicating her ample hips even as she suspected she was being made fun of.

“Yeah. I mean you like…literally have that hourglass figure. Full hips, smaller waist, big boobs…you’re a Renaissance pin up model.”

“Yay me. Now if only I was born in the right era.”

“Sarcasm will get you everywhere,” the woman said with a smile as she pinned and tucked Elmira’s hem. Elmira suspected her name was Becky but wasn’t sure enough to actually call her that.

Next she was presented with a choice of shoes to wear, and chose a black stiletto pump dipped in black caviar glitter and embellished with cut-out star and lightning motifs in bright, sparkling colorways made from calf leather that slimmed her feet and lengthened her legs.

“Good choice,” Pale and Blonde said.

“Thanks.”

*****

Elmira sat down on the padded wooden chair in the front row which had her name printed across a piece of paper, reaching behind and plucking it from it’s attached tape. She crumpled it into a ball noisily before looking around to find a bin to drop it in. When she couldn’t identify any, she surreptitiously rolled it under her chair, biting her lower lip anxiously. Not one heartbeat passed before a woman with a clipboard and headset, dressed in tall black heels and a tight black dress, rushed over to pick the paper up. She shot a glare at Elmira slamming the paper against her clipboard to emphasize her annoyance. Elmira paid her no mind, eyes focused forward and waiting for the show to start.

Sascha appeared suddenly and sat down beside her, and turning her body toward

Elmira she raised her eyebrows asking. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Elmira replied still distracted by her expectation of the show’s imminent commencement. She even forgot to wonder how Sascha was sitting next to her. Carl Marefield’s front row was coveted. All plus ones at the back please! Yet here she was.

“I saw you dumbass,” Sascha muttered and snatching up Elmira’s new iPhone and snapping a quick selfie.

Elmira’s eyebrow arched higher as the room began to fill with invitees drifting in to take their seats. Her eyes flickered up to track the front row fashionistas who leisurely sauntered by and missed stepping on her toes by a whisker. They took no notice of her fat ass as their tall bony figures arranged their spring 2016 creations so as to display themselves to the best advantage. Photogs wandered about, taking pictures; occasionally asking a celebrity to stand. Elmira thought she spotted Kitty; the singer was a little further down the row – but she could have been mistaken about that. In any case she wasn’t about to stand up or crane her neck or nothin. The clashing scents of cologne and perfume wafted about the room clogging up her nostrils and dulling her senses.

She smoothed her two tone ruffle dress, as its 94% polyester, 6% spandex material fit snug against her voluptuous curves. It was a sleek and feminine dress which accurately revealed her more romantic and playful spirit. It was accented with a fluid, black and white cascaded ruffle – this look undoubtedly encompassed ease, elegance and unbridled glamour. Elmira was enamored of her solid round neck sheath which allowed her boobs to peek out just the slightest bit. The sleeveless straight sheath silhouette slimmed her down ending above knee so her shapely legs were on display.

Elmira glanced at Sascha’s outfit as her friend wiggled in her seat, trying to attract the attention of the socialite sitting on her right. Surprisingly, her friend was dressed in an appropriately conformist manner, looking polished and presentable. She viewed the audience not as upper-class royalty but acquaintances with a shared interest and the fashion show not as a social climbing photo-op but as an event she enjoyed and could share with Elmira. Who was more awake to the reality of the situation. Sascha came from money though; yes it was illegal money – her father was the Puerto Rican equivalent of a Colombian drug lord – but nevertheless she’d grown up surrounded by privilege. She’d left it all behind as soon as she could, choosing to get a scholarship to NYU rather than letting her father’s money pay for her education. But she did know her way around rich people sh*t. Elmira was glad to have her at her side.

Suddenly, Elmira remembered that Sascha had said something to her and finally turned her head and looked at Sascha. “Saw what?”

Sascha rolled her eyes, lined up her arms and elbows flush to Elmira’s, and leaned forward until the tips of their noses were almost touching. Like a student whispering to avoid getting yelled at by the teacher, Sascha quietly said, “You caused trouble for that poor lady.”

The overhead lights flashed three times. Those already seated situated themselves properly and those that were still standing and mingling rush to their assigned chairs.
Elmira pressed closer to rub their noses together and whispered back, “I haven’t any idea what you are referring to.”

As much as Sascha tried to prevent it, the corners of her mouth twitched upward in amusement and admiration. Elmira was always talking down about herself but she was actually the leader of their two-woman pack. Her unselfconsciously rubbing her nose against Sascha’s was so typical Elmira; and the fact that they were in attendance at such a high-end fashion show for a luxurious fashion house didn’t change her or her behavior, a fact that Sascha found laudable. Though she didn’t show or acknowledge it, she was aware that Elmira felt out of her element in this environment of money, pride, and vanity. However, as she mostly did in her life, Elmira paid no mind to the unimportance around her and fixated upon what mattered.

What mattered to Elmira was capturing compelling images and getting fodder for a killer post or three for her blog. She was determined to be invited back next year and the year after. This was not going to be a one-time gig. It was a foot in the door.

The overhead lights dimmed and the static noise of the audience quieted so considerably that Elmira only then noticed how loud it had been. Music with thumping bass and trance-like electric melodies filled the room at a high volume and the runway lights turned up as the first model walked out, applause breaking out.

Sascha clapped along with them, arms hooked around Elmira’s, who pushed her fear aside to do her job. She took photos of the models walking down the runway and a few selfies as well. If the selfies also happened to include cameos from semi famous people who ‘just happened’ to be in her shot well…no one could exactly blame her for that. Or sue her.

Hopefully.

A model walked past them, and their eyes were transfixed on her, roaming up and down her body to take in every detail. Her stick straight black hair that fell to the top of her neck, the sleeveless tan dress that hung loose on her body. A low relaxed V-neck cut low between her bre*sts, the equally open back that revealed a scarily bony spine when she reached the pool of cameras at the end of the runway. Her long pale legs were lengthened by the bright blue pumps she was wearing, the tips of her fingers the same blue as she made her way back and passed the next model.

Model after model, outfit after outfit, garments and shoes and purses and struts and poses and flowing hair and extreme makeup and hips…

Their mesmerizing appearance and captivating presence became a little repetitious after a while. Elmira was horrified about that; this was only her first show. She could not afford to get bored so fast. She blamed it on the fact that Carl Marefield wasn’t her fave. Plus all the models he used were cast from the same mold. No variety, no diversity. It really did get monotonous.

“They’re…okay.”

Sascha blinked at her in disbelief, hands still on her knee. “What?”

Elmira shook her head and Sascha leaned over to hear, “They aren’t that good. Like, their ankles look like they’re about to break from lifting those heavy shoes and those handbags are wider than their waists.”