Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Fashionably Late

Sorry this post is so late guys, but I have been a little busy, plus the fact that I have no idea what to blog about today! So this means....

A story!

Yes, that's right. I am a writer and I have written a short story about models and fashion and runways. So please enjoy and tell me what you think in the comments below ;) Oh, and please disregard the cliche of a title. I just thought it fit.

Model Behavior
Sashaying down the runway, Tiffany caught the eye of the photographer and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. Every good model knew the camera was their best friend.
Somewhere between her beaming face and her posing body mixed with the throbbing beats of some new song, a crowd broke out behind her, whooping and hollering. Tiffany called back her signature pout and turned around briskly. Out of the corner of her makeup-caked eyes she saw the light bulbs popping and the digital cameras flashing. Gritted teeth were inevitable under her carefully glossed lips. 
“This is my show, Amber.” Tiffany hissed, trying to show off her best side (the left) to Amber’s throng of admirers. They stared, almost drooling, at the two models on the catwalk above. Since when did renowned models converse during performances?
“Since when?” Amber widened her blues eyes innocently as if she were a perfect angel. Though Tiffany saw the sprinkles of mischief in them. She restrained herself from gouging them out. 
“Um, since Natalia went into labor. I’m the next top model in line after her!” Tiffany exclaimed. The onlookers cast sidelong glances at each other. Some guy shouted “cat fight”. 
“No way,” Amber growled. “I’m way more Cindy Crawford than you.”
“So you’re old?”
“Could you be anymore blonde?” Amber groaned and reached down to unbuckle her Jimmy Choo wedge heel. She lifted it up and knocked on Tiffany’s head. “Hello, is Paris Hilton in there?”
The crowd gasped, lapping up the unfolding drama like a Golden Retriever. 
Tiffany let out a deafening yelp, running full-force into Amber’s side. Screaming, they both tumbled to the floor in a mess of couture and anger. Amber ripped out Tiffany’s extensions, and Tiffany broke Amber’s shoes in half. Soon enough, they were rolling around, Tiffany gripping Amber’s necklace as if to strangle her. Anxious photographers swarmed the two.
“What are you trying to do, kill me? You psycho!” Amber shrieked. 
Suddenly, two security guards carried the models away and the crowd started to laugh. As soon as the magazines were out, so were the models. Maybe the cameras were not a model’s best friend after all.