BEAUTIFUL

TEN

Astoria

"So... What do you think?"

With her eyes trained on my laptop, Azalea absentmindedly pushes her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose as she surveys the numerous designs I was given to choose from. Lips pursed, and eyebrows drawn into a tight line, her green eyes bounce back and forth from the sketches to the fabric samples that came in the mail this morning.

I can practically see the battle of wills occurring in her head as she decides between sweet nothing appeasements or sugar-coated truths— It seems the latter won.

"I'd hate to break it to you, Tori, but they all look the same to me," She finally says, turning to me with a bashful expression and a shy smile.

Sighing, I pull my laptop back and scroll through the document of designs again. Sketch after sketch, each of an elaborately drawn gown with an undeniable air of opulence and flamboyance flowing off of them. After a while, it gets overwhelming and they all begin to blend into each other— They all look the same.

With the Met Gala approaching with great haste, I'm in the trenches trying to assemble an iconic ensemble in time. The months leading up the event are stressful enough, but having my family's dirty laundry aired out for everyone to scrutinize has made matters worst.

Having to accept that I would never see my older sister again is hard enough, but having to do it with the entire world prying and inputting their own opinions is far worst. All that's on everybody's mind is why. Why would Aurora Damaris, heiress and star, take her own life? Even after 10 months, I still haven't got the slightest clue— And I think that might just be the worst part about it. That I'm just as in the dark about it as the rest of the world.

So to say the least, Met Gala preparations were the last thing on my mind within the past couple of months, and now it's coming back to bite me in the ass.

My mother says skipping out on attending this year is not an option, because it'd look bad considering the year the Damaris' have had. As if fleeing to London the day the news leaked didn't look bad— But I know better than to argue with Irisse Damaris, so now I'm scrambling to put together the perfect look.

"I know," I mumble before tearing my gaze away from the screen and turning to my sister. "I'll probably have Sav, Kimmy, and Flo take a look before I show Mother."

Azzy nods ardently in agreement, "Yeah, I'm not the best person to ask about these things."

Sure, my sister doesn't care for fashion or keep up with trends and such, but I still value her opinion on these things. She may not have the eye for fashion, but she does understand the complexities of colour pallets, design, and textures— She's an artist, which allows for her to view the designs through a different lens than I do.

And sometimes it's good to get input from someone who is blissfully unaware of the fashion industry norms. She doesn't hold any biases towards particular brands or their history, so her view is similar to the rest of the world— And I just want my sister to like it too.

I can't wait to see what the other's think of the designs. They understand fashion to the same degree as I do, and won't be shy to input their own opinions. I have a couple favourites from the designs in my head, and I want to see what they think about them before I show my mother.