Heaven's Empire

Mario

If anyone was in there, they were taking an awfully long time to respond. Kensa had rapped her hand firmly upon the door twice and there was no hint of an answer. Rolling her eyes, she knocked again.

"Mario, it's me."

"Can it wait? I'm a little busy at the moment." A heavy Italian accent shouted back through the door.

"No, you're not, trust me," Kensa replied, pushing the door open and signalling that I should follow.

"What do you mean I'm not busy?" The voice retorted indignantly. "I'm adding black painite crystals to likely the most expensive piece of lace appliqué ever created, of course I'm busy!"

"You're not too busy for this, trust me," Kensa replied and only then did I see the owner of the voice.

A short man, who couldn't have stood at more than five foot four, with a bald head and small, black-rimmed circular glasses, dressed in an absurdly eye-catching floral blazer and trouser co-ord, he was half-buried beneath the extensive skirts of a stunning dress where they flowed like a waterfall from a mannequin's waist, crafted of black lace patterns set onto a shiny fabric that looked soft as silk.

Sighing, he carefully placed the folds of the dress to fall perfectly, turning around with an annoyed expression on his face, until his eyes found me.

"You happen to be right on this occasion," he said, turning his attention back to Kensa, his eyes sparkling. "I am not too busy at all."

"Anastasia, this is Mario Fiorentino, our leading designer at HE. Mario, this is Anastasia Du Kane."

"Yes," the designer said calmly as I shook his hand. "Yes, Kensa, that is my answer."

I had no idea what he was on about, but Kensa quite clearly did.

"It doesn't do to announce the verdict when the jury are still out," she replied quickly, but smiled to add: "I hope everyone in the agency agrees, which is why I came. Miss Du Kane has not had any photos taken yet, so I thought you might like to-"

"-Of course, of course," he said, sparking into action. Shuffling between the mannequins, racks of clothing and tables spread with dazzling fabrics, he dug hurriedly beneath a pile of sketchbooks, withdrawing a particular one and grabbing a pencil from the tipped-over pot on his desk. Rifling through one of the drawers hurriedly, he asked Kensa: "What's the brief, exactly? What are we aiming to create? Because I have the most beautiful dresses in mind."

"You're to get some natural shots: ordinary clothes, no hair or makeup work. Then, with minimal styling, a one-item photo test. Finally, a shot worthy of December finale."

"Good. I'd like that room on the second floor." His gaze shifted to me and he cast a practiced eye over my face. "I'll get started with the natural shots without anything, but I'd like my full kit brought up promptly, I want to have as much time to work with. Oh, and if you could persuade those in Production to give me the latest version of Palette 27, I would be much obliged."

Kensa sighed, evidently used to this man demanding the Earth.

"Anything else?" She asked, sounding a little weary.

"No, I think that's it," he said, before adding: "Miss Du Kane, could I borrow you for a moment?"

"Of course," I said, following him through to another section of the room. He disappeared between mannequins twice his height and for a moment I thought I'd lost him in the suffocating folds of extensive dresses. Eventually though, we reached an end of the room I hadn't been able to see before, thanks to the explosion of fabric and clothing all around. There were miles of shelves at this end, stacked with exquisite shoes. I stared in wonder at them all but he was clearly searching for something specific.