February, 2022
The shuttering of hundreds of cameras, accompanied by the flashing lights that could partially blind the intolerable eye with the brightness and sheer repetitiveness of the lights combined with the light snowfall that came down on the city in late February could only mean one thing.
It was fashion week in Paris.
A semiannual event where some of the biggest names in the fashion industry would design the most outrageous clothing they could get away with sticking on a model while they walked down a runway lined with celebrities from California to Korea, from Brazil to Australia, and from England to Japan, while anyone else rich enough and lucky enough to get a ticket would watch from further back, owing to their much lesser celebrity status.
Or at least, that's how Y/N saw it before he had been invited to attend one of the shows on a freezing Sunday night. In years gone by, an event like this would've went mostly under the radar for him. He would've seen something about it on Instagram or Twitter, liked some photos of people that he followed or thought looked nice and that would've been the end of it.
However, being up close and seeing the intricate designs of the clothes being wheeled passed before the models put them on was definitely something else, especially when said pieces of clothing had these huge bows or obnoxiously large add ons just hanging there, while the people and celebrities invited wore clothes that were much less out there, well at least some of them did.
Once passed the initial red carpet area where the celebrities would arrive, get about a million photos taken by actual fashion journalists, while the paparazzi vultures were kept at arms reach by security, often screaming obscenities at people who were deliberately blocking their shots of famous people, there was this huge marble lobby where members of staff were taking jackets and coats and waiting staff carried trays of champagne for anyone that wanted just after the security post where they asked for your ID and Invitation while belongings went through the x-ray machine while the huge security members used the handheld metal detectors to make sure nothing dangerous was brought onto the premises.
Waiting just passed that point was Y/N, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for his friend Georginio, or Gini as everyone called him to get back from the bathroom and washing his hands or whatever it was that he was doing in there.
Although all of a sudden, Y/N was suddenly encompassed by the coats of two women that brisked by in a group of four, leaving him stranded in the middle of the room holding coats that were probably worth thousands because they'd already gone by without giving him a chance to explain that he wasn't part of the staff.
"Y/N, I leave you alone for two minutes and you're already crumbling under the pressure man." Gini grins as he speaks, a certain amusement to his young friends struggles. "How did you even manage to end up like this?" He gestures to the coats he was holding above the ground.
"I don't know, I was standing here waiting for you, then I get these shoved into my possession." He shrugged. "I told you I'd do something embarrassing if you invited me."
"Don't worry about it, you can give them back inside." Gini laughed it off. "I did tell you to wear something nice didn't I? You stand out like a sore thumb man."
"I am." Y/N protested, gesturing to the black shirt and suit he had on, minus the tie, although the trainers did kinda scupper the outfit. "This is the nicest suit I have that doesn't have the club badge on it."
"Maybe if you were still going to school it would look nice." Gini teased him. "This is what happens when you buy your clothes at the same place you buy your food. We're in Paris, all you need to do is step outside and you can practically see a tailor who can make you a suit."
