A STRUCK OF LUCK

Source: Kristina Bazan

A 6AM wake. Is it so outrageous to wish for a thunderstorm that halts every act of movement in the city? Defeating the force of exhaustion that encouraged her to snooze her alarm, it was time to get ready for the biggest time of the year: fashion week. Her eyes were dreary and her hair, a mess. She made it her mission to avoid every mirror in the upscale hotel suite. 

An 8AM evolution. Her hair slicked back in an elegant bun, winged eyeliner drawn to perfection and lipstick the sharp colour of blood painted acutely on her lips. She slipped on a long metallic pleated skirt, a long sleeved grey sweater crop and the longest grey fur coat. Her Manolo Blahniks slip from her hands to her feet as her cobalt satchel hangs from her shoulder. She was aware of her conventional beauty, it wasn't a secret. Who would suspect an inch of insecurity from a girl with such poise, grace and charm?

Placing her tainted circle sunglasses over her eyes, she stepped out into the crowd of hungry admirers with intimidating cameras. Smiling and twirling as the camera lights flashed with unimaginable speed. 

'Mademoiselle how do you do it?' a pap shouted with encouragement. 

Moving round in a swift circle, one hand perched elegantly on one hip as she blew kisses at strangers. 

A struck of luck, I guess.