When Love’s In Fashion

Sascha sat back but still facing Elmira. “They’re models. The industry wants them that way.”

“I can’t see why.” She tilted her chin at one model in particular, unimpressed by her dress and walk.

“If all skinny models are like this, I’d imagine that they’d want a woman who weighs five more pounds but can actually fu*king model clothes instead.”

Sascha laughed; she couldn’t help it, and pressed her face to Elmira’s shoulder as the outburst died down to a chuckle.

The music around them was blaring and deafened their conversation as well as everyone else’s. Editors exchanged comments before speaking to their assistants, who wrote down what they said as well as their own observant notes. Celebrities discussed ensembles and pointed at certain pieces, taking out their Smart phones once or twice to photograph or message. Socialites attentively examined the models while keeping a secondary eye on the other socialites, tabloid photographers, and front row occupants.

As for them, Elmira kept up a commentary on every single model and outfit while Sascha attempted to keep a straight face. Not very successfully though; she was soon laughing out loud at Elmira’s observations and corny asides.

“I could rock those shorts better than she can. And I have like five times her hip span. However, those shorts would be rocking against your hips. You have the perfect ass for them.” Elmira said as Sascha blushed in pleased agreement.

“So, those boots? Yeah, they’re for chicks, but they have a touch of masculinity to ’em. I bet you’d look sexy in ’em, what with your thin calves and long legs. Sometimes I really hate you Sascha. Why are you so perfect?” she said a few minutes later. Sascha shrugged but didn’t disagree.

“I could strut better than that blond bi*ch can. Hell, I know I can. I mean, look at her stomp, Sash. Look at it! Isn’t that the most horrendous thing since Godzilla?! And I don’t think that lizard had knees!” Elmira had the presence of mind to whisper as Sascha howled, slapping a hand over her mouth. Fortunately the music was too loud for anyone else to hear.

“That one’s not even all that pretty. Like, she genuinely thinks she is, but she’s not.”

Sascha slowly shook her head, moved to defend the models from Elmira’s biting tongue, “It’s her job. Insecure models at New York Fashion Week?”

“There’s a difference between projecting confidence for work and projecting confidence for your wrongly inflated ego, Sascha.”

“Okay, on ‘America’s Next Top Model,’ Tyra pretty much drills into their head to focus on the runway and ignore the audience. I’m pretty sure I remember the contestants getting sprayed with silly string and they had to keep going, keep a straight face, disregard the judges. Right, now, explain to me why that model’s eyes shifted to me and glared as she came by. Because that isn’t very professional and Tyra would have a hissy fit if she was here.”

Sascha laughed, caught the model’s glare directed at Elmira when she walked by again. It only made her laugh harder, but she didn’t say that it was probably because these models knew she was criticizing every one of them.

“I could be such a better model,” Elmira softly remarked, more to herself yet Sascha caught every word, “but what they have that I never will…is height. And, well, thinness, too, if I’m being entirely honest.”

Then, she tore her eyes away from her judgmental entertainment and to her best friend and roomie. “That’s why I have you. You make up for everything I’m not.”

“Nah,” Sascha breathed out and slung her arm around Elmira’s neck companionably. “I don’t make up for anything. Elmira, the reason you have me is to bring out the diva in you while you bring out the ratchet in me. Our relationship isn’t to compensate but compliment.”

Elmira melted eyes wide and expression soft. Her fingers squeezed Sascha’s. Being who she was, she jested, “You’re a real charming cheese ball, you know that?” before rubbing their noses together, “That was beautiful.”

“That was the truth.” Sascha smiled easily and then turned back to the socialite on her other side. She wasn’t much for chick flick moments, Sascha wasn’t. Elmira sighed, turning in her seat to see if she’d missed anyone. Sven’s disturbing gray eyes caught hers as her gaze swept the third row. He was sitting almost directly behind her and

Elmira frowned. She was pretty sure he hadn’t been there before. Between them though, were some fashion editors she didn’t want to shout over so she raised her hand in a small wave and then turned back when he waved back. Did CEOs usually concern themselves with individual clients like this or was he here for her?

‘Get a grip on yourself Olivette’ she chided herself, ‘pull yourself together and stop building castles in the air. You’re here to do a job. Do it.’

*****

“Hi.”

Elmira jumped just a little when she heard the deep low voice behind her. She knew who it was…she’d been hoping he hadn’t just gone off after the show. But she had enough presence of mind to finish with work first before seeking him out. She’d done a few ‘how do you feel about the show’ interviews with randoms in the crowd and had tried to get a one on one with Carl himself but of course he was not available. Probably sequestered somewhere with Anna Wintour.

She wasn’t hatin’.

If she was him she’d be cozying up to Anna Wintour too.

Instead she interviewed a few models and an administrative assistant just to get a feel for how backstage was doing after the show. Everyone seemed really happy with their performance and the reception to the clothes. Elmira took a few more pictures and then left. She swept a perfunctory eye around for Sascha but was pretty sure she’d been making a bit of headway with the socialite she’d been seducing. So she didn’t really expect to see her around. Not with the hotel only five minutes away and the next show not until three in the afternoon.

She stepped out of the hall and that was where she’d met Sven.

Who was looking her up and down like she was a prize morsel of beef and he was a Texan.

“You look nice,” he said.

“Thank you. You look very well put together as well.” She replied.

Sven laughed, “So formal. Can I buy you a coffee?”

“Now?”

Sven looked around like he expected a clown to pop up and suggest another time, “Why not?” he asked.

“Well, I’m kinda on the clock. Wanna put down some thoughts before they disappear?”

Sven spread his arms wide, “All the better. What more fitting place to do that than in a coffee shop? Come on, there’s a Starbuck’s not far from here. We can drink expensive coffee concoctions and you can write.” His hand landed gently on her back and he propelled her forward so unobtrusively, she was walking before she realized she was allowing him to lead her away.

“Uh huh. And you have no objection to me ignoring you while I write?”

Sven smiled, “The better to stare at you my dear.”

Elmira bit back the smile that wanted to blossom on her face, “You’s a fool,” she murmured.

He bowed elegantly in front of a black car before opening the passenger door and ushered her in, “I aim to please,” he said with a smile. Elmira found that she was staring at his too handsome face a little too intently before she jumped forward to slide into the BMW i8, luxuriating as she sat back in the soft leather seats. She waited for him to walk around and get in the driver’s seat, long legs eating up the road so it seemed like he only took three steps from her door to his.

“How tall are you?” she asked because why not.

“6′ 3”. How tall are you?” he answered impassively.

“5′ 8,” she replied unthinkingly.

“Excellent. Shall we go?”

“Yeah. Let’s.”