Violet Summer Zine Issue 3 - Page 22

A GLAMOROUS NIGHTMARE F ashion fan fiction by M alea thomas Red lights. Gold lights. Yellow lights. Shine bright like diamonds. Now, dim the lights. Silence cell phones. This could only be Paris, France. The show was about to begin. Grace, a young journalist’s beady eyeballs were super glued to the stage. On stage, the model’s black Jimmy Choo heels clicked loudly along with long dresses that draped the bodies of the six-foot tall models, and every detail of the show was perfection. Their long, blonde hair swayed back and forth, and the silver glitter gleamed on their faces. Grace wore a Prada dress from last year’s collection, and she was desperately trying to wear the dress instead of the dress wearing her. She wore some designer heels who’s name was too difficult to pronounce and was equally as hard to walk in. The audience stared in awe as the beautiful models displayed their luxurious ensembles from the top fashion designers. She took in every moment as if it were her last, and she watched the fierceness in each diva’s eyes. She sat in the front row and scribbled furiously. The friction of the tips of her fingers wrapped around her pen while she tried to convey the majesty of the upcoming fall trends and her eyes analyzed everything. Writing was her outlet—a place where she could not be judged. She lived in the pages and spirals of her notebook. The nooks and crannies, the scratch marks and folds—they were her home. In the audience, Grace glanced over while she was taking notes and saw her all-time favorite magazine Creative Director, Ann Bella. Grace thought, now is my chance to talk to her. She moved through the crowd of journalists and editors. Every corner was filled with chaos, but Grace kept moving until she was right next to her. She paused for a few moments because she was trying to get her words together before she opened her mouth. You got this. “Hi, my name is Grace. You are my biggest inspiration. I would love—” “Your never make it.” Ann stared at her for a split second and then looked back at the fashion show. Grace’s shoulders sunk in a little bit. “Ann, I love—” “Your wearing a dress that is a couple years old. You’re irrelevant.” 22