Loved In The Kingdom Of Beauty

21.

Pasquale was a desperate man. The facade of the overconfident, sauve, man-about-town, started to crack, and not even the polyfilla of a smile or a handshake could conceal its ghastly appearance. The bank's refusal of his loan, which they freely approved in the past, shook his foundations, making him skate on extremely thin ice. His regular investors had all but deserted him. They constantly referred to investing in young blood, up-and-coming designers who showed great promise, have good track records of gaining and keeping clients, and making great strides in the industry. He knew who they were referring to, and he came to hate the name, Jacqueline. He was determined to take her down, and prove his critics wrong.

His fabric, print, manufacturing and accessories suppliers were reluctant to extend his credit, and it was with difficulty that he convinced them that his latest show would be his saving grace and put him back on top.
It was time to put his money where his mouth was. He couldn't sit still in his office, and was constantly on his phone checking and double-checking that everything was going according to plan. His staff had never seen him acting that way, and avoided him like the plague. He pushed them to work harder and faster, only to change his orders and contradict himself. He changed his venue at the last minute which added to the financial burden, stress and confusion.

The design directive he had given his team was, Out of Space. The collection he finally approved, showed extended shoulders which gave the impression of airplane wings. Dresses in metallic fabric of red, gray, black and navy, clung to the models' bodies, making walking impossible. Some dresses had slits halfway up to their chins, breasts were barely covered, leaving nothing to the imagination, and oversized hats with feathers extending to the height of the ceiling. The heels of the shoes were so high that the models would have to do a delicate balancing act if they didn't want to end up face down on the runway.

Pasquale wanted to shock the fashion world into believing that he was still the top dog, but his actions were reminiscent of a drowning man grasping at straws. He barked orders left, right and center, and his trusted wing man, Harold, who happened to be in the direct line of fire, had the virtual bullet holes to prove it.

"Harold, get me Snowy's agent on the line."

"Pasquale, if it is about the showstopper, you've already decided on Destiny."

"That fat cow. She's put on too much weight. Do as I say."

Harold knew what he said wasn't true, but a last minute effort to boost his show by getting supermodel Snowy to model the showstopper.

"Sure boss."

Snowy was given that name by her father because she was born, of peasant stock, during a heavy snowstorm. Neither the doctor nor the midwife could get to the cabin on time, and by the time the midwife reached them, she could save the baby, but not the mother. She was raised by her father and aunt who did everything in their power to make up for her loss. At the age of sixteen, she was taller than the boys she was fond of playing soccer with.

Snowy was thin, lanky, awkwardly built, but that changed when she reached the age of eighteen, and turned, almost overnight, from the proverbial ugly duckling into a stunningly graceful swan. Her father wanted her to have the best education, and saved what he could to send her to distant relatives in the city where she could attend college. One day, on her way to class, she was spotted by a talent agent who asked to take her picture. The camera loved her, and without a decent portfolio she was snapped up for major print and ramp engagements.

Her heart-shaped face was stunningly framed by coal black hair which cascaded onto a flawlessly marble complexion. She had a fiery temper, and when she was most angry, her deep brown eyes glowed like polished bronze, which is what happened when she received the offer from Pasquale.