flashes ✦ julian draxler

un : the gala

| paris, france

"YOU'RE HUNGOVER," those were the first words that her mother tutted to her at half ten in the morning.

"Erm, of course, mother," she spat in annoyance, "I did go out last night, and I told you to not barge into my apartment. I'll be getting rid of that key under the plant soon."

Stella's mother raised her sharp eyebrows to her daughter threateningly, "Oh really? I don't think you will. As I recall, you like to go out every two or however many days it takes you to recover from your hangover, and drink yourself to your grave, and then you like to forget your key so..."

"Sounds about right, mother," Stella grinned cheekily from the comfort of her silk white sheets on the California king bed. Being the heiress to one of the biggest, luxury fashion brands on Earth had its perks, "I'm glad you're familiarising yourself with my routine."

Her mother, Serena Greaves, simply grunted under her breath in frustration, "What have I told you a million times, Estella? You're stamping on your once pretty reputation with your own shoes."

"At least they're Louboutin, Ma," Stella cackled, "You've taught me that at least. Besides, I don't want that stupid reputation from when I was 16."

Serena ignored the Louboutin comment (although it did warm her heart that her little Stella was adamant on only wearing the best) and pushed open the curtains of her room to reveal two glass doors that led out into the balcony of the penthouse. Ultimately, light flooded into the room and shot to the hissing Stella.

"Well then what do you want your reputation as? The rebel daughter who parties every other night and lives off her parents' money?" Serena quipped.

"Actually, yes," Stella fired, "I'm twenty three, not thirty three. You should be happy that I even graduated from ESMOD with flying colours. I don't have to take over the brand until you decide to retire. I'm hoping that you'll hold out a while."

"Yes, but the thing is, Stella, you're an adult at twenty three and we agreed that you'd help in the company once you'd graduated. It's been almost two years! You don't need to take over; you just need to help or at least stop partying almost every night with Serge and Gina," Serena sighed, "I'm tired of coming here too many times a week to check if you're alive! I walk into a shop and I see you on the front of the magazines and papers drunk off your bat, coming out of a nightclub at three in the morning! Now i've got to run to a meeting. Don't forget that we have that annual gala tonight. Your glam team will be here four hours before the event and then you can choose your dress and look."

Serena ran out of the apartment quickly, leaving Stella to dwell in her thoughts.

The Paris Gala was an event that was always hosted at the start of January in the French capital. Of course, it was exclusive as hell, and also one that was very publicly documented for the high amount of powerful people present. Only the most important and prestigious people in the city were invited, no matter what profession. As the daughter of Serena Greaves, she'd been attending the gala of mostly pretentious businesspeople for years and years.

However, if you knew Stella one bit, you'd know she marvelled at social events, and even loved them. Rebellious was often associated with dark, grunginess, but Stella was not rebellious in that way; she was just opposed to helping in the company so soon and instead wanted to have fun at the tender age of twenty three.

She liked attention on her, it was simply a fact. It wasn't a terrible thing; it wasn't like she was promoting anything bad (debatable, in some views), she just liked eyes on her. A smooth talker, and a looker too, Stella was the perfect shining star at a red carpet event.