Moda Perla winter collection…
1221 Words
Moda Perla winter collection…
Maurice's POV,
Fairy tales and happily ever afters have always been a myth. How do you expect a woman to cater a handsome prince for her whole life and become happy with just a few occasional gestures of love, a ball dance, and dinner parties? Prince is always the richest of the rich, prettier to the prettiest, kinder than the kindest. Knight in the shining armor. And the girl, always in need, poor, trying to escape the dread of her life. It’s always been like that. Damsel is in distress. Where is feminism in that? Bullshit. It’s never a dream for me to live a life of golden confinement.
Ricky always seems so poised, even when driving his convertible. One hand on the steering and the other on the window. Was he always this dashing? How come I never noticed all these fine details of his. He knew his charms, and he showed it off. My home isn’t much away from my work and it took even less when I have such great company driving me there and peachy weather to have people on the road going off on their day.
The more I look at Ricky, the more impressive he seems. His hair flows with the wind like they were long friends. They played together. Should I just hire him as my driver so I can see it every day? He drives better than me, driving myself never attracted me. He would probably charge more in ten minutes than what I earn in a whole day. Forget it. I need to keep that money and make more materialistic use of it.
On the tour last month, we’ve even shared the same room space for the night. We were together all day long, but he never seemed so incredible to me. He was just… he was just normal. He was always my subordinate, a co-worker, someone I care to command all day and nothing more or less. How does it keep changing so quickly? He kept crossing the boundaries.
He must be a handsome, romantic prince, but it’s not my place to play Cinderella. It's better to end it before it gets too far.
“Ms. Blanchard, did you see all these articles?” I walked into the wide floors of the reception, which weirdly feels wider today. No one seems to be here. It’s nowhere so quiet on weekdays. But being quiet was the best I could get today.
Juliane jumped off the reception, almost tripping me on my steady toes. “It’s all over the papers,” she added, showing the headlines of probably all the papers that exist in the city, neatly cut out in rectangles and pasted on a white piece on her desk. How great to be so young and carefree? It hasn’t been long since she joined the company, but she already feels like a family. I might even miss her. I haven’t been like that in years. I don’t even remember being so happy. Does she have a knack for such collections? She framed it beautifully on a glass plate that she loved to show off. As the success of the company was her own. She sure loves her job a little too much.
‘Moda Perla winter collection… Moda Perla winter collection…’ The most used phrase in almost all the articles, including some articles adding successful and popular and its uncommon synonyms in continual. One or two of them has been passed by my eyes too before. However, I might’ve liked to brag about its success to the people I know. I think it’s weird. Most people I know work for Moda Perla already. Nothing felt more rewarding to my heart than this public praise. All those nights of no sleep, all the nights I was away promoting the launch, it hasn’t gone to waste. ‘Golden goose of Moda Perla, Sapphire, took the collection launch to a new level.’ Media reports are trying to turn this success into some sort of miracle.
“Miracle? What crap?” I almost chortled aloud. “I mean, don’t they know a miracle is a luck too?” I vocalized my churning thoughts. It will be the most successful collection launch, and even if a few people villainize our company with baseless rumors of plagiarism and theft, it’s just free publicity for us which they might be too naïve to understand.
“Those are just rumors. No one cares about them,” Juliane stated.
“Of course, I know. They are helping us in more ways than they imagine. Any publicity is good publicity for us now.” We have never seen people go this crazy over our apparel before. All just by using this publicity, most plausibly. That’s my next goal before the year ends, to keep it consistent. To keep this turn of luck endless.
“We have been getting swift-y orders since the last weekend and two consignments have already been out of stock in five days, all over the stores country-wide.” She added.
“Credits to the launch party and fashion show. We made headlines in the town. And of course, our beautiful manager,” Ricky exclaimed, “Ms. Blanchard.” What took him so long to get in? Was there no space to park his car? But it’s so tiny already.
“Ms. Blanchard, the consignment is dropped into the warehouse. Are you coming to inspect it with me? I have to ship it to the stores as soon as possible.” Mrs. D’Costa, our warehouse manager, suggested walking out of the pantry, holding a peeping hot cup of café in one and a clipboard in the other hand. She, like Juliane, has a knack for white clothing and dark coffee bean juice. She always raises her glasses up to her head whenever she enjoys her coffee. She and I surely have the same taste for bitter treats, and I so much wanted to grab the cup from her hands.
Let it go!
“Yes, let’s go,” I responded, walking ahead quickly waving a small bye to J, curbing the quench of my heart begging me for a caffeine boost.
“I'll treat you to your favorite cheesecake after that.” Mrs. D'Costa added. Showing me the box in her hands.
“Cheesecake? Something special?” I asked, turning back to look at her and Ricky walking beside her. us three in almost a straight line.
It’s even from the bakery is so adore!! How does she know about it? Wait, did she always have that bag in her hands? Where is the clipboard she was holding just now? I couldn’t notice that bunny logo. If it is in front of my eyes, it hasn't happened before.
“It’s your birthday.” Does she know? I'm feeling bad asking you to come to work on such a day. So, at least, I should treat you too. Don’t you agree, Mr. Winston? He was the one to tell me of your birthday.”
“Really?” I glanced at his gleaming face.
“Aren't I perfect?” Uh… just when I thought he was flawless. His being too overconfident is also a problem. I just hope he knows...
“You must love yourself a lot.”
- Writer
