"Very few things matter and nothing matters very much." - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Robyn was reviewing her latest Fall collection and upcoming Winter collection she created for her next two shows. Fashion was everything to her on a natural, temporal level, and essentially a vivid way to visually express herself and her way of living. Fashion, she believed, was a genuine desire given to her; so she created clothing that made women of all sizes feel confident, yet present themselves respectably, modestly, with decency, and propriety. That was her highest concern. Her mandate with fashion was clear, and showed to be successful.
In her Fall collection, there were various styles from sweater dresses at knee length with slits, to silk fabric dresses. The colors represented Fall well the pieces being red, gold, and yellow. Gold accents decorated the dresses giving them a sense of royalty. Seeing the final results made her smile, and she couldn't wait to showcase the outfit made specifically for her at the Met Gala next weekend. She thought about whether she would attend alone or have a date, then Chris popped into her mind. They had several long nights of heated passion, paired with golden mornings and meaningful conversations. Even if she felt something under her drunken haze and tranquil state, she wasn't sure what they would become.
She heard a knock on her door, and confusion etched on her face. She wasn't expecting company, and rarely had any since her family were back home. Opening her front door after looking through the peephole, she saw a man with a clipboard. "Robyn R. Fenty?"
"That's me." He signaled for something, and soon five dozen red roses came into view. The men walked inside placing them at specific places. Along with those came a basket of her favorite fruits. Robyn stood there confused and intrigued about the events that were taking place. She turned and faced the man. "Who is this from?"
"I was instructed not to say anything, Ms. Fenty. Sign this please," she signed her signature and watched as the man used a device to verify everything was sent. "Thank you, Ms. Fenty, enjoy all the delectables." He smiled, and walked away with the rest of the men that came him.
After closing her door, she walked over to the roses inhaling the honey vine scent before looking for the card. When she did it read, "For my Coco Brown ❤️ I hope you like the roses, and the delectables, but love the painting more." She looked around and found the painting in the corner neatly wrapped. Rushing over she ripped the wrapping paper and gasped at what was before her.
It was beautiful––– for the lack of a better term, an understatement. It was her, her back facing the painting, nude on a wooden floor. Polished and semiglossed. Richly colored with vibrant hues of violets and pink, which blended beautifully. She ran her hand across the canvas feeling the coarse yet smooth texture. His brushwork was visibly impasto yet subtle, each brush stroke distinct, and the turquoise towel gave the painting a cool contrast. She loved it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There was another knock on her door. Carefully placing the painting on her couch, she skipped over knowing it had to be him. "Hey, beautiful," she walked into his arms, and he buried his nose in her neck inhaling her warm, tender rose, soft suede scent. "You smell good, how's your day been?"
