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by The prologue to my story. Please, don't steal anything in this or I will sue. Seriously. And for privacy reasons, this prologue will only be up for a few hours. Tell me what you really think, and tell me if you have any suggestions.
And when you're done, post your fave and least fave parts. Thanks!
In the fashion world, there are the models, divas, icons, critics and more. But they forget one thing: That's me. No, I don't fall under the in-between category. Actually, I should have my own category in the fashion business. Well, I'm not here to rant. So I'll get straight to the point. My role in the fashion business? I'm what you call, a virus.
I know what you're probably thinking right about now. You're thinking, what does a virus have to do with fashion? Well, I'll tell you. Me -- the virus, join famous fashion firms with my altered-to-be-perfect reseme. I get access to all their designs, and rivals, and then I do what I do best. I take a picture of their most treasured designs, and then I leak them to the world.
Smart, huh? You must be wondering: This girl must have some major nerve. And yes, yes I do. But you need to be stealthy, and of course, have knowledge. Not any type of knowledge, fashion knowledge. Oh, and I might have forgotten to mention, that there's a reason I do this.
Time to phase to explaination mode. Well, when I was 14, I dreamed of being a designer. Yes, I dreamed of having an actual job once. Hard to believe, but that's not the point. Long story short, my dreams could never be fufilled. Cue the sad music. But hold on! There's more.
One dark night I was sitting on my queen-sized bed reading Teen Vogue, and then an idea hit me. No litterally, it hit me. My older brother threw one of those retriring home brochures at me and told me I was a waste of space. Yeah, yeah, sibling love, how cute.
Back to the point, so then the idea struck. Like lightning in a storm, like a boy kissing a girl, like my mom hitting my dad when he forgets to pay the bills. I decided that if something isn't working out right, then I have to force it to work out right. I know right? The story was pretty much pointless but you know? It is what it is.
Now that you know about my job, I think you should know about me. As a person. No, I'm not a buff tattoo-artist, but I don't blame you for thinking that. I'm just a normal 17 year old girl living life like she should. Psh, yeah right. I might be 17, but I don't go by any rules. My parents don't even know that I'm a virus, they think I still work in Little Miss, this boutique that burnt down in a fire two years ago. But they don't know that, do they? I know, cue the evil laughter. And I might be young, but commiting crime isn't half as bad. You know, television exaggerats when they describe jail.
Well, like I said before. I'm a virus. But please, don't hold it against me. No one knows except my trusty sidekicks, Speedo and Whizzly. Nah, I'm just kidding. No one knows except my not-so-trusty friends, Miranda Dawson and Elise Medina. So, keep it on the down-low. Or else I'll feed you a knuckle sandwhich. Ha! I'm kidding, really, I am. Hey, I'm a teenager, sarcasm is a way of life.
And when you're done, post your fave and least fave parts. Thanks!
In the fashion world, there are the models, divas, icons, critics and more. But they forget one thing: That's me. No, I don't fall under the in-between category. Actually, I should have my own category in the fashion business. Well, I'm not here to rant. So I'll get straight to the point. My role in the fashion business? I'm what you call, a virus.
I know what you're probably thinking right about now. You're thinking, what does a virus have to do with fashion? Well, I'll tell you. Me -- the virus, join famous fashion firms with my altered-to-be-perfect reseme. I get access to all their designs, and rivals, and then I do what I do best. I take a picture of their most treasured designs, and then I leak them to the world.
Smart, huh? You must be wondering: This girl must have some major nerve. And yes, yes I do. But you need to be stealthy, and of course, have knowledge. Not any type of knowledge, fashion knowledge. Oh, and I might have forgotten to mention, that there's a reason I do this.
Time to phase to explaination mode. Well, when I was 14, I dreamed of being a designer. Yes, I dreamed of having an actual job once. Hard to believe, but that's not the point. Long story short, my dreams could never be fufilled. Cue the sad music. But hold on! There's more.
One dark night I was sitting on my queen-sized bed reading Teen Vogue, and then an idea hit me. No litterally, it hit me. My older brother threw one of those retriring home brochures at me and told me I was a waste of space. Yeah, yeah, sibling love, how cute.
Back to the point, so then the idea struck. Like lightning in a storm, like a boy kissing a girl, like my mom hitting my dad when he forgets to pay the bills. I decided that if something isn't working out right, then I have to force it to work out right. I know right? The story was pretty much pointless but you know? It is what it is.
Now that you know about my job, I think you should know about me. As a person. No, I'm not a buff tattoo-artist, but I don't blame you for thinking that. I'm just a normal 17 year old girl living life like she should. Psh, yeah right. I might be 17, but I don't go by any rules. My parents don't even know that I'm a virus, they think I still work in Little Miss, this boutique that burnt down in a fire two years ago. But they don't know that, do they? I know, cue the evil laughter. And I might be young, but commiting crime isn't half as bad. You know, television exaggerats when they describe jail.
Well, like I said before. I'm a virus. But please, don't hold it against me. No one knows except my trusty sidekicks, Speedo and Whizzly. Nah, I'm just kidding. No one knows except my not-so-trusty friends, Miranda Dawson and Elise Medina. So, keep it on the down-low. Or else I'll feed you a knuckle sandwhich. Ha! I'm kidding, really, I am. Hey, I'm a teenager, sarcasm is a way of life.
