isabella [h.s.]

four

**She's high fashion
Took me to the back room in Chanel so we could smash and
Everything is Louis V and Louis V her casket
And she's so good at walking out because her dad did**

ISABELLA

"Where do you want to put your designer bags?" Tina asks me, lifting up a Chanel purse that I had forgotten I even owned. "I think you should put them on display, like trophies. Especially because you didn't even have to buy most of them."

I stand up from the bed, where I've spent the last half hour or so separating my clothes into three piles: 'keep', 'donate' and 'don't know'. So far, the 'keep' pile is the largest by a long shot, but I'm just hoping Tina doesn't notice because she'll just attempt to convince me to add more to the 'donate' pile, mostly because she thinks I'm in fact donating to her, instead of the women's shelters around the city where I'll actually be taking the clothes.

"Mmm, maybe we could display my favourites on the shelf," I suggest, pointing to the empty cubes in the shelving unit that Tina and I just spent the last few hours putting together. I don't know who came up with the idea that DIY and building furniture was a man's job, but they were sorely mistaken if they think a girl doesn't know her way around a toolbox and a couple of Ikea instruction manuals.

"You only have four, though. And you have four spaces, so you could just display them all?" Tina picks up the bags from my bed and carries them over to the shelf, positioning each of them so I can see what it looks like.

I stand back and inspect the shelf for a few seconds, pursing my lips as I think. "No, I think all of them is too much," I decide. "I'm not that much of a materialistic bitch."

"Well, I am," Tina says with a careless shrug, making me laugh. "You definitely have to put the Celine bag up there."

"Oh, of course! We can't forget about her."

I grab my black Celine bag from the bed and place it into one of the empty cubes on the shelf, angling it perfectly. Maybe I am being a little materialistic with this one, but I think I have the right to be. The Celine bag was one of the first expensive purchases I made with my own money after my first week at the strip club, so I guess it holds some significance in terms of my independence. But aside from that, I'm really not that into all the designer stuff. Most nights, I happily eat the cheapest ramen from the store, and all my favourite pieces of clothing are from various thrift stores I've visited over the years. The main reason I even take a designer bag to work is because most of the girls will judge you if you don't, which is pretty pathetic in my opinion, but it's the sad truth.

After deciding to place my Saint Laurent bag on the other shelf, we store the other purses safely at the top of the wardrobe, and then fill the two other cubes with my favourite books, some framed pictures, a few ornaments, and two fake potted plants. It takes another hour or so to finish sorting through my clothes, and by the time we've put them all away, I hear the front door close, signalling Harry's return from work. As Tina and I attempt to put up new curtains in the window, we hear Harry walking around the apartment and rummaging around in the kitchen, the murmur of the TV following a few minutes later.

"So, how's it going living with him?" Tina asks after a while, nodding her head in the direction of my closed bedroom door in reference to Harry out in the living room.

"It's been alright," I say, sliding another curtain ring onto the pole. "We don't see each other that much. When he's coming back from work, I'm usually leaving to go to work."

"Has he said anything about what you do for work?"

"No, he seemed quite relaxed about it when I first told him," I inform her, using my hand to smooth out a crease in the curtains. "Which I was quite surprised about, because you know how boys usually are when they find out. They're either way too into it, or grossed out."