(fiction) Imperfect

Standing in here flagship store, she was amused by the attention everyone gave her. Vogue had described her as ‘a creative force’, and her peers had already called her a visionary. It was gratifying and made her feel a fake. Were her designs really the sensation of Europe? Would she last a decade? Or even a year? She had never seen herself reach these excesses and the questions she fended up with just a smile, did they realize that she didn’t have and answer for them? That she was not being coy, but that her little fashion house had emerged from her imagination through life’s serendipitous turns and not some strategic plan.

Her clients, when she saw them were in awe to see her and she would feign an air of confidence that had earned her the reputation of being icy. In private, she was never like that. So many changes in such a short time. Just over 3 years ago she had been struggling to make rent, and now she had 4 stores…

She had been emotional and shy, she still was… yet, her friends had started to give interviews saying she had changed and news reporters would start following her round the city and use long lens cameras when she was on holidays. She had lost her privacy for this her new life. 

She felt the material of the clothes hanging in displays, her creations… she had conjured them up. She had drawn out these abstract shapes and people her professor at school had commented that her style was very unique. She nodded and decided to try more traditional approaches, but then her professor remarked she needed to develop her own style, uniqueness was good. And so she had experimented… and how far she had come. 

She retired to her private room, there was a window that would overlook the store’s foyer. She could stare as the public walked in and as young girls danced and laughed in her dresses without fear of being seen. She sat there, glass of wine in hand, with a half complete knitted garment in her lap. She was experimenting with a new pattern. 

There was a knock on her door and she quickly dropped the curtain in the window so it were not known that she had been spying on her clients and said come in. It was her daughter Anouk. 10 years old, shy and already a talented dancer. She had her favourite teddy in her hand and was looking in expectantly. It pained her that her daughter was scared of her. It was not right. She should be seen as loving and a doting mother, but her time was Anouk had already started growing distant.

‘Come in Anouk. Back from school? What did you learn today?’

Anouk stepped in quietly and placed the teddy on the opposite chair facing her mother and then stepping behind the chair spoke in a weak imitation of a bear’s voice

‘Anouk is okay’ said the clumsy bear

‘Aha! And why is Anouk not talking directly?’

There was silence for a while and then laughter as Anouk jumped out from behind the chair and hugged her mother.

‘Feeling playful today are we?’ 

‘Can we go to the park?’ Anouk asked

‘Of course we can!’

‘We have to go to the one near school. My friends will be there. We can play!’

Now that was a problem. Anouk’s friends meant their parents would be there. They always chatted about one thing and one thing only… what was her business like. She didn’t want that sort of attention, but looking at the beautiful eyes of her Daughter, her heart melted and she said yes.

‘Yes, yes. Let’s go!

 

So yes, this makes no sense, and i get that. Almost everything I write has no purpose and this entry in particular starts out a bit promising… and then changes tones halfway. The reason? Well, i dont plan my blog entries. When im bored, i open wordpress and start typing and post whatever i write. Hence the silly stories with no endings.

Oh dont blame me, im just a very bad writer. (AND I KNOW IT!!)

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