cotton candy heart

katie wright. wardrobe & make up supervisor. nothing is impossible, the word itself says: "i'm possible!"

[katiewright]

skylar.

He’s only here to help Tomas fulfill the order of catering for one of the film sets. Precious bakery goods are gently placed on the table for the crew and cast to nibble on between shots. His brother is the actor, the one that is the most recognizable, second only to Ade who Skylar has listened to is known on her phone through her clock app. He has accepted that. But although his name might not be known, he’s hard to ignore. He’s on a set, and that means he should dress like he belongs, but he is also a chef, and he should dress like that, too. He’s settled on a suit, color pairing mismatched, and his white apron over it. This is a balanced combination.

To the first person to come up to the table, the main thing that’s been drilled into his head to avoid is what comes out his mouth: “No strawberries.”

“really?” there’s a little deflation in the notion that there will be no strawberries for her to eat this morning. there are so many pastries that are made just a smidge better by the inclusion of a ripe strawberry placed on top of it. of course, that’s not to say that these pastries aren’t going to be good, that would be far too judgemental to be allowed to be vocalized. “that’s too bad.” 

she surveyed what was available before turning a sunshine smile back to the caterer. “i just love starting my day with a strawberry danish.” not to say it was a habit, but rather a conversation starter. “what do you recommend instead?”

[katiewright]

miguel! 

@katiewright​

Wright, Katie. Those were the words on the door. Wardrobe beneath it. The name has filtered through his head, said by someone else reading off of a piece of paper, whether that belonged to the 365 film held very little bearing. Miguel was already inside, feather boa around his waist, tied over the beach shorts labeled ‘Mamma Mia,’ combing through the rest of the treasures hanging up.

“This, this, this! Yes, yes! You are the right cat!” he greets her without introduction, pulling out what he’s found: the loose string that once belonged as a basic belt, now held up in the air, anointed by Miguel’s two hands. “It is everything!” Perfect for all the cast to wear. Perfect for all the crew to wear! “Come, come, come! Tie me up! Anywhere! Everywhere! I love it!”

everything was on the correct hanger, organized by cast member, sorted by color, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. she liked doing the camera tests, almost more than shooting the films, because it was the last chance to change everything before they were tied into three copies of the same outfit. which wasn’t to say she didn’t like that part— it just wasn’t her favorite. 

the door burst open, ruining the negative thought before it had a chance to take root and throw her off balance as the intruder pulled at loose pieces hanging from her racks. “oh shoot, no i—” there’s an immediate panic in her voice, hands up as though the surrender will prevent her wardrobe from being harmed any more. “i think you have the wrong room.”

[a-flash-of-the-lightning]

—The Flash, “Duet”

[katiewright]

leo.

He couldn’t help it. A one word change had his lungs cracking out a laugh, short burst of air behind an exposed grin. She couldn’t have been serious, and yet at the same time, he had absolutely no doubt that she was. Too good to be true, like a fucking unicorn in the wild. “Sorry, I think that hat is on too tight.” Hands reached over, fur lifting up, freeing her from it. “You were telling me not to what, now?” One day, he’d get her. One curse. That was all he could ask for from her, even with one meeting, even if that one meeting seemed like it could maybe be made into two. “Good ideas are fucking overrated, anyways.” And they were. Good ideas just never worked out like they were supposed to. “Let me know when you want to make a bad one.”

The hat was tossed up a little, playing around with it as it swished around his hand before a smirk grew. Shock spreading across her face as she took him at face value again. Could see it in her face how it started to shift, a belated understanding. “I didn’t,” he admitted, but why not try your luck again as his eyes shifted from the faux mink to her. “It was Rude Boy.” Thanks, Rihanna. Where would he be without you?

“Are you telling me this isn’t hot? I’m showing skin.” He looked down, more of a gesture to the ripped jeans than anything else. But he looked like, what? Wanted to hear the rest of that sentence, gaze lifting back to her with a tilted head, amusement flashing over him. “What do they fucking say here? My body is your canvas or some shit?” Fingers on his collar, feeling how they reworked the fabric while he watched her face more. “Fucking go for it. Since I look so well.”

she had no response to the line that met her stumbling agreement. she was unschooled in the art of comebacks or jokes of any kind. when presented with any sentence that might cause a stumbling of the singular word bad, she could only stammer. “i’ll let you know.” no, wait. there wasn’t anything to say. what was there to know, she pulled her hands away from fabric she’d been adjusting as though scalded by a hot pan— burn made of her own metaphoric foot in mouth. did that mean she’d moved from maybe to definite yes, the idea really wasn’t so bad was it. it was better than craft services after a shoot anyways. 

“rude boy.” little less certainty in her denial this go around. she supposed they could keep listing rihanna songs until she found he hadn’t helped write any of them. but what were the chances that he had— that would have been kind of fun. or at least funny. she wavered for a moment, pulling the coat off as though it were the unspoken trade. she wouldn’t push it any further herself, but there was still the hesitation in her voice. as though she knew she was being tricked but hadn’t yet found the evidence, “okay.”

 she returned the coat to the hanger, back to him as she tried to remain somewhat composed as he continued to flirt. was this flirting? maybe she was being a little presumptuous— people could be likable without pursuing a relationship. “no, it should be about you. people know authentic.” lived in clothes had a certain feel, they moved differently when positioned on a set. if she’d learned anything from crossing paths with clementine fehr before an a abrupt departure to the screenwriting field, it had been that sometimes thrifting was actually the way to go. it suited some sets, it suited this particular day.

“no, no you’re fine. it’s fine.” the sooner she could send him off to set and work on the next member of the video the better. probably. did she want to keep talking to him? even if it meant the continual stumbling of her words, since when did she stutter? “i’m not giving up. it’s a good first look.”

[katiewright]

leo.

If he was already going to walk out of here with a new shirt, the very least he was taking with him was the entertainment value of seeing his words working their way through her. If it wasn’t for the color dusting her cheeks again, he would have been convinced the gist of the idea had flown over her head. “And everything but the shots? That’s still a hard no?” Crooked smile across his face, eyes on her from a tilted head before he threw out the lifesaver. “Blink twice if you’re trying to tell me to fuck off. All this can’t be part of the job description, so feel free.”

Right sleeve was beginning to be rolled up, a better fit to him than the iron-pressed shape. For a moment, he looked like he was contemplating her question, the type of focus in the eyes that drew to the thoughts instead of the present, until he finally reached his elbow. “This a bad time to tell you I ghostwrote S&M?” Next sleeve’s turn while his brow eased again, vision taking into account the seriousness again before he shrugged, head swaying to the side to favor one shoulder. “I guess you’re onto something. Too Freudian for my fucking tastes, but you could say the same, right?” All under the creative umbrella, even if he didn’t get it. “Undone button shirt? Business kink? No judgement.”

He glanced down, taking in the ripped jeans he had on, modeling them one leg at a time before looking back up at her. Slacks? “Business kink.” Confirmed, nod to make it official before the smile spread a little further. “Looks great, thanks.–Giving up yet?”

“i, i—” suddenly all she could think of was whether or not she could blink, were her eyes watery? were they too dry? what if she blinked twice and she didn’t mean it. getting a drink with him didn’t sound so bad— but it wasn’t exactly appropriate. at least not right now, when she was supposed to be getting him dressed and sending him to hair and make up. “i’m not telling you to fudge off.” saying it out loud there must have been some shock of realization across her face, that she meant it a little bit more than she wanted to. “but i really don’t do shots. you can’t convince me those are a good idea.”  it would have been too embarrassing for a first date, wait— first hang out. oh no. “after the shoot. maybe.” maybe! way to play it cool!

at least he didn’t stick on it. “you didn’t!” her jaw dropped just the fraction in surprise at the admission before looking back at him and realizing it was probably a joke. that made more sense, rather than telling a costume designer because she happened to get close to the truth. right. that made more sense. jaw closed, pressed into a smile as though she’d been in on the joke the whole time. “you didn’t.”

“don’t say that.” it seemed the flush was destined to never leave her cheeks, uncomfortable at each topic in equal measure. she wasn’t squeamish, but it wasn’t the kind of think she ever thought she was going to talk about at work. wound so tight she might just crack instead of laugh at him. “you want to keep those? i’ve got some without the rips.” she almost pulled a pair of levis off the rack before his own repeated thought halted her. “it’s just a chance to dress up. some people really like the—” the experience, the change of pace? but he was sort of right. the creative direction for this video was simplistic. she could only match that. too much and she’d only clash, who wanted to work with that. “yes. okay. fine. you look—well,” she put the jeans back and stepped forward so she could adjust the dishevelment of the collar, something a little more worn in than just the shirt off the hanger. “for the record, i’m not giving up.”

[katiewright]

leo.

“No, you’re right.” Katie had spoken with thought, a logical explanation to something as easy as two buttons being left undone, and he nodded as if he had seen it for exactly that. Always trust the professional, not the client. “One says I forgot what the fuck buttons are at the last minute, but two is all about the sex appeal. I see the logic.”

The mirror wasn’t glanced at, even as it hung off to the side. It was a shirt with two buttons undone, not enough to draw his attention away from her escaping laugh, opening the door for him to raise his eyebrows at her with blue eyes wondering in jest. He had the expression of someone that was absorbing the thought process, nods thrown in, tilting head and pauses when more words tumbled within scope. It did nothing to stay off the forming smirk that tickled the edge of his lips. “Yeah, they fucking love that personal shit.” The expression broke the dam, all in as his hands slid into his pockets, a casual ease in the way he stood as if he was making himself at home in his new space that was her domain. “You?” he asked with a raise of the head. “Got a good feel for me before meeting me in the flesh?”

A huff of a laugh registered, something about her answer striking him just the right way. Fuck. He might pay to see her on a Redbull if this was the baseline. “No shit,” he murmured before listening to the rest, taking it in with an eventual shrug of the shoulders, head swayed towards the shoulder. “Nah. It’s just this plan to see what you’re like after a shot with me, but I’ll settle for a cosmo.”

“oh no, i don’t do shots. wait—” her brain worked in slow motion it seemed, every thought processed already after it had left as a fully formed sentence. way to go, the meaning of his own words finally sinking in. of course she wanted to be professional about these things, keeping everything exactly how it should be. but was this banter— was it supposed to be so easy to joke with someone. and if that was the case what did it mean for her, for him, for— no need to jump the gun. he was still a client, and he hadn’t even made it to set. “i really don’t do shots.” as if repetition would erase the blush from her cheeks, the extra beat to her heart rate. 

“a song is just a part of a person, right?” she didn’t think of it as a full understanding, really she didn’t think of it at all. but given the sudden void in conversation that didn’t involve assuming he was trying to ask her out, she was trying her best. “it’s a glimpse.” she wasn’t sure if she sounded like she understood or if she was simply talking for the sake of it, so much tended towards the second.

“i thought i got a feel for it, at least.” enough for two buttons, enough to offer options instead of demand. she knew it was a tease, really she did. still, she couldn’t help the question that sparked.  “or did you want slack instead of blue jeans? i thought casual and rustic was more—” too much again, and yet she wasn’t sure the answer would get them towards a complete outfit. “so far so good, right?”

[katiewright]

leo.

“Can’t fucking take it back with a ‘ha ha.’ I know what I heard. That was real.” Head tilted, pointed look given with raised brows, all to prove his point as if it was piles of evidence. The courtroom dissolved, always a fabrication in the first place, fingers busying themselves back with the buttons before hearing her order. “Not the top two?” he questioned, another slip of blue eyes landing squarely on her, glinting before shrugging. “Sounds slutty, but you’re the boss.”

His thumb was nearly done rounding over the smooth edge of the last one instructed to keep before she spilled over, voice running its course right into a brick wall. Leo’s attention bypassed the clothes she raised for him altogether, funneling all its energy on the stylist herself. “Right,” he nodded, agreement reached, smile brewing. “So, what I heard was less clothes the better. The buttons make sense, now.” Too easy to tease. He owed her a break. Didn’t mean he’d really give her one, at least not long-term.

“You’re not going to tell me that coffee is the hardest thing you drink, right?” he circled back, hands finding themselves in the pockets of his worn jeans. “It’d fuck up this plan I had.”

“well— i thought, you can’t have them all buttoned and one could just be a mistake.” before she continued she could feel the smile across her lips, though she wasn’t sure the exact cause of it. she was used to having to justify her work, but he didn’t seem all that concerned with the wardrobe itself. she tried not to rise to the challenge, though she caught it too late for that to wholly stick. 

“no, well. yes, but no! not like that!” she laughed, finally. the embarrassment finally turning on her in the form of pink cheeks and overcompensation. obviously not like what? he was a client, she was supposed to be professional in these conversations. and instead she was wearing a ridiculous fur coat and was trying her hardest not to stammer out a next answer. “it’s better with, it’s about adding personal style. people like to know you when the music is personal, right?” what was she even saying. personal? she’d listened to a few tracks. 

“i stay away from energy drinks, they make me jittery.” she answered quickly before the full meaning of his words sunk in. “oh you meant, well i drink rosé but never alone. or maybe a cosmo. but no i just,” she looked at the two options she still had though it seemed more distraction than an attempt to get any work done. oh shoot. “sorry, plan?”

[katiewright]

leo.

Just coffee. And he believed her without a second thought. For the half hour that he had spent with her, his guess was that the only thing she was withholding was that it had almond milk and maybe a shot of cage-free vanilla. “Nah,” offer declined, even if the chances were 50/50 that she was trying to joke, no matter how lame it was, no matter how it still quirked up the corner of his lips. “My liver doesn’t know what that is. I can’t start pissing it off, now.” Only a beat passed, eyes to the mug, then to her, watching curiously. “No drinking on the clock unless you’re sharing,” he amended for her, all the answers held like a deck of cards, every card marked for easy counting. “That’s what you meant when you tried to make me drink with you.”

The shirt was held up, dark blue coloring dripping off of his grasp and bouncing off his eyes. Even when the vision was on it, fingers undoing the buttons, she was listened to. “Sure, I’ll take a henny, thanks,” he answered, glance over at her before his arms threaded through the sleeves. Not what she meant, knew as much, but did she? He’d find out, like his own private game. “Like I said, a deal is a deal,” he assured. “Whatever you fucking want me in, I’m stuck with it. Just remember it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. You’re the first to get it.” There were definitely worse pieces to be wearing than the one she had given him. “Once I finish buttoning this up, it’s locked in for the top part. Final answer?”

her eyes shot back to him, wide for a beat, before she finally let him have a small laugh punctuated with “ha ha.” though it was always remarkably less sarcastic coming from her than it could have been from anyone else. she hoped it was a joke, no— she knew it was a joke. drinking on the clock was an impossibility. not only was it unprofessional, but it was a hinderance to doing the job correctly. gosh, if she had showed up drinking how could she have even tried to have this conversation. 

“almost buttoned up.” okay, no henley. at least that’s what she took his deal to mean. and really it was for the best, it would have looked too casual for a music video. “not the top two.” some attention to detail, though she’d make the adjustment herself if she had to. “you’ve got a choice of denim jacket or vest if you want a second layer.” she held up the two choices on hangers, both selected in shades of black to go along with the shirt that he’d agreed to. “very much optional. i don’t really think you need it.” the opinion burst out, not nearly as cool as she thought it might be, but at least she didn’t stumble on it. “they wanted you to have some individuality. so, if you want it.” 

[robin-buckely]

Kara Danvers + hairstyle appreciation (requested by anonymous)

[katiewright]

BASICS—

full name: katherine henrietta wright

birthday: august fifteenth 

age: thirty two

zodiac sign: leo

religion: lutheran 

–religious level (1-10): 4

birthplace: saratoga springs, new york

current residence: los angeles, california

height: five feet seven inches

hair color: dark blonde

eye color: blue

sexuality: heterosexual

love/romantic preference: heteroromantic

relationship status: single. maybe. 

languages known: english, french

DETAILS—

car: 2021 silver lexus is

phone: green iphone 12 mini, pink citrus apple silicone case with california poppy leather wallet magsafe attachment 

music genres: radio pop, oldies, classical, recently trying folk 

wardrobe: pink and white basics, gold accessories—notably a sorority charm bracelet, clothes always dry cleaned. fondness for matching suit sets and nude heels. never leaves home without some form of makeup. favors contacts over glasses. 

estimated net worth: the wright family estate is estimated at $150,000,000

ransom value: $5,000,000

education: cornell university, ba in fashion design and management 

accent: soft mid atlantic, fading into standard american 

RELATIONSHIPS—

ingram bronwyn wright: father, hedge fund manager

tinsley “tilly” palmer wright: mother, former super model

leo thorne: musician

LEVELS (1-10)—

drinking: 3

swearing: 1

smoking status: 0

drugs: 0

cooking proficiency: 6

intelligence: 7

emotional/social intelligence: 6

creativity: 6

temper: 3

[katiewright]

leo.

Cats that ate canaries looked less satisfied than Leo did, lips curved up at one side with a head twisting, result of being caught off guard. It hadn’t crossed his mind that anything he had said to her so far would be taken seriously, much less that one. “Got you on that one, huh? That’s what you get for imagining me with puppy dog eyes.” Smile back stretching across, watching her in her natural habitat sans hat and tumbler to lips. “Fuck yeah, daytime drinking,” he praised, sarcasm dripping only for the one fact that she was probably the most sober person in this whole industry. “I would have brought a bottle had I known we were both alcoholics,” he added on, hand swooping up the hat.

The cursive was glanced over at, nodded at it because why not? Of course that’s what it would say, just like how his shirt nearly spelled out his favorite swear. One and the same, except polar opposites. His shoulders shrugged, casual response for playful rejection while the faux fur lining rolled around the back of his knuckles, tossing it around his touch. “No refunds,” he went on, pass was hers, “and no cheating.” And so was the hat, placed back on her, having to tug at it in the back to get it off of her eyes.  

“Sounds fake, but what can I get a prize for? My sparkling personality?” All fun and games, look from her to the shirt that she had offered up before back at her. The work had to become a priority at some point, even if it was the least important part in his own mind, the kind of task that hardly made the list. “This is just fucking harassment at this point,” he consented in his own way, hands already curling around the tee, pulling it off over his head to ruffle dirty blond strands. Tossed to the side, just next to the new one before picking it up by the collar. “Are you going to chaperone me on set after this? Make sure I haven’t fucking tossed this thing in the trash when I leave out of here?”

“oh no, this— this isn’t,” professionalism always the first defense, looking at the mug again with a quick flicker, “it’s just coffee.” but there was no one else in the room to be impressed by her honesty, she was just being poked at once more. and she was slow on the uptake that it had been sarcasm that she was supposed to catch on to. made up for with only her palest attempt at a comeback. “you can try it if you want.” was that good enough, was it even funny? it was the first time she’d tried to attempt something close in maybe ever. at least maybe this week. 

“no drinking on the clock.” she said finally, the confusion giving way to a sunny smile. hopefully enough to show that she was joking too. was she? the sentence was true enough to what she believed but. at least starting out his own list of nos as he put the hat back on her head, ugly and hot as it was. she held her breath until his hands returned back to their own personal space. no she didn’t, she was fine. having a little fun with a client, nothing more. maybe a shirtless client, most people asked for a partition. that was fine. 

“you’d throw it in the trash?” he hadn’t even tried it on yet, but she was already turning towards the rack again to try and find a better solution for him. that and some privacy, though he didn’t seem all that concerned with the latter. there was nothing to say he wasn’t joking. but gosh what if he wasn’t. “would you rather do a henley, most people always want to dress up, i mean it’s the one time you don’t pay for the clothes.”

[katiewright]

leo.

There was nothing around to take seriously, even she was being converted to the same viewpoint as him, infectious as it was. She was on the defense, the cusp of trying to convince, while he stared back, lips winding up and head cocked to the side for playful offense. Somewhere along those lines the tide changed, statement capping it off to prove it. On the same page. Maybe. “You checked them out enough to know for real? I feel violated right now.” If that was violation, the expression on his face was an invitation for destruction. “Good thing you’ve still got a free pass to get a close-up. Can’t be too careful.”

He didn’t know a fucking thing about fashion. Clothes went from somewhere on the floor to on him to back being on the floor. Funny how the cycle of life worked like that. It was watching her in the fur coat, fake or not, with her eskimo-drug-lord inspired hat on that was at the peak, the pinnacle of what would be the equivalent of being on Vogue in his mind. It was cute on her, made cuter by telling him she wasn’t going to be pushed by him, even with his pointed-out eyes in the mix.

“I could beg, but if someone walks in, there goes my last chance at Christian music,” he commented, a dry tease, almost could have passed if she hadn’t known him longer than a second. Besides, the attention had to be shared, new object in the picture offered up before he took it by the other end of the hanger from her, twisting it to look at the shirt front to back. “When I put this on, and you let me know it brings out my eyes that you obviously want to put in a jar,” he began, laying it to the side to free his hands up for the shirt he was already wearing, “do I get a fun prize? Like a free voucher to Denny’s? I’ll take a drink if you’re out of those.”

“don’t beg!” she turned to him the second before it clicked that it was a joke, it had to be. she was sharp enough to catch the edges of his humor, but not quick enough it seemed. her sudden plea coming up against the amusement that was dancing across his face. she took the hat off after an embarrassed beat, reaching for her travel mug, pink ceramic, taking a sip of a vanilla latte before she said anything more too quickly. 

“i’m not getting any closer!” free pass aside, this was still supposed to be work. at the end of all of this she would have to turn leo thorn back to the crew actually prepared for the day of shooting. “you’ll make me regret it.” another sip of coffee, mug twisted back on the counter coffee and mascara in dark cursive font among a sea of etched gold confetti. “take your pass back.” though it was hard to say such a thing when she was still smiling, gaze finding its way back to those blue eyes.

“and you don’t get a prize for being lucky.” but of course he did, he must have known that or he wouldn’t have been teasing her quite so much. still, there was some semblance of resilience to her professionalism. how did one bypass the offer of drinks when still in the first half hour of work, especially when that person was a client. by blindly ignoring. “there’s no denny’s around here anyways. just try the shirt please.” 

[katiewright]

leo.

“And sometimes, hear me out,” he paused for effect with a nod of the head to cap it off, “they’re just an asshole.” It had come across his ears a few times before, but he’d categorize as the fun kind, not the traditional type that you actually hated. It was what it was, and she was who she was, apparently giving anyone and their brother a chance. “Fuck, I wish I was the fifth member of KISS, but you got the wrong guy.” Dressed down music. He eyed her for a minute as he thought it over, lips spreading into a crooked smile of sorts. Sure. Didn’t know what it meant fully, but sounded like it’d be right. Why not let her have the w?

“I just have that effect on people. They pass out all the time,” he warned as he pretended to adjust the collar, a take on her own job, as if it was a means to make it picture perfect before letting her go. But it was his turn to be prodded at, even through a point of the finger, no contact needed, just an aiming at his eyes. “Lucky? Are you calling me ugly without them? What if I had glass eyes? That’d really hurt a guy’s feelings.” What was there to take seriously, though? She liked his eyes. That was the takeaway.

Back to work. Tweed. He knew of it in theory, brought images of Sherlock Holmes and not much else, and yet he played by the promise he laid out. Let her do her thing, he’d follow along, even if she wound up taking the fur coat off and putting it on him. “Oh shit. Not the sage button down…” Thin-lined lips to express his sympathy, the superficiality intentionally transparent. Belated moment. “You know that I’m fine with you saying fuck, right? I won’t tell your boss you’re a bad influence.”

his denouncement was met with a laugh, as though it was too difficult to be believed. maybe he was right, deep down where there was nothing to be done, because sometimes people did treat you mean even when you were absolutely sure you had done everything right and gotten the a on the test, and landed the lead solo in the choir. there just wasn’t anything to be done. but that didn’t mean she had to resign herself to not trying. a thought altogether too big for the morning in a wardrobe fitting. 

“no! no— come on now.” about to apologize until she saw that the smile hadn’t left his face, that this was just another tease in the long strand of jokes that he had in supply. there was nothing to apologize for because there had been no offense taken, “you don’t have a glass eye.” no he had two perfectly blue ones that followed her as she paged through the rack of shirts. and it got around the particularly awkward statement of having to say he was handsome. of course he’d know that, people probably told him as much all the time. 

“i’m not going to swear just because you ask me to.” although the jacket she was wearing might have had something different to suggest about the words. “and don’t drag anyone’s boss into this!” finally she plucked a dark blue shirt from the rack, simple, rich in color, not about to distract from the music, only to compliment what was already there. that was dressed down. “there. your turn.”

[katiewright]

leo.

“Mmm,” the sound hummed, sarcastic rendition of seeing the light as he nodded. “Not that I fucking know you, but is there anyone that you do think is an asshole?” Honest question, no malice intended. Looking her over, positivity practically oozed from her. From her pepto-bismal sweater to her cheery smile, didn’t seem like a lot could tick her off. But he played along, humored the situation as he looked over the suit, the suit that he wish he could have seen a picture of his father in. He knew better than to think it had a chance of existing. “What? No platform shoes to go with it? Fake.”

Head tilted at her, her argument being made while he watched with nonchalance. Her fingers pulling at the pink coloring that she was wrapped in, presenting it to him with invitation to touch, a splash of entertainment finally favoring his face. “Why does this sound like an HR trap?” he questioned while taking the risk, hand reaching out with thumb and pointer rubbing at the corner. “Well, shit. I take it all back. Why didn’t you tell me it was cashmere to start with,” not worth being called a question, too cavalier in its approach, too much of a smirk lingering before he let it fall from his touch. “Sorry, but it can’t beat that one you have hanging over there,” he went on, stepping away to one of the racks, pulling off a piece at the end to show it off. Something akin to looking like roadkill in a jacket, but make it fashion. Fox maybe. “Comes with a hat,” he told her, plopping it on the top of her head before the main piece opened up for her arms to slide through. “My favorite style: Russian go-go dancer.”

“i haven’t met everyone but, usually there’s a reason. some people have had a tough life!” for every person that she could have said a mean word to, there was usually some story for it. even her own parents, well couldn’t they be excused for wanting the perfect daughter. she shook off the thought with a laugh, “i’ve got platform shoes! if you wanted more a classic rock look, i just thought— well with the guitar, your music always seems a little more dressed down.” not casual, not with those lyrics. but not anything like what she’d pictured either. maybe she could even call herself a fan after this shoot.

“no! that was for a background—” but it was too late the hat was already on her, matting the curls that she had brushed out earlier. she slid her arm through the jacket, playing along with the routines tended to be the easiest course of action. and she couldn’t deny she’d laughed when she’d put it on the rack. “now you have to play fair or i’ll overheat.” coat on top of sweater, on top of strange warm feeling from having someone help her into an outfit.

when she turned back to face him, she was fox clad, her half of the bargain held up. “now you’re lucky because you have those.” she pointed to his eyes as if it was the obvious feature, the only thing that was needed to make someone stand out. “so you just need a neutral color. options are brown tweed jacket & denim, or...” she paged through the racks, the bobbles of fur from the hideous sleeves getting in the way, but not enough to distract her. “oh shoot, i thought i had a sage button down. you would have looked great, no suit needed.”

[katiewright]

leo.

This was her job, not his, and yet he couldn’t help himself but to look at her like she was the one in need of help. Fuck, dealing with dressing him, that wasn’t too far off the truth, but help from him seemed to make up for the difference. Suit. Ties. Dress shoes. People still wore those? “Be honest,” he went on, head swinging to the side at her as she went silent. “How many assholes do you walk in on pretending to be from the Wolf of Wall Street?”

His own reflection was glanced at, the tee in center-focus, missing how his face scrunched up as it looked back at her, mock offense taking hold. “I’m sorry, but K-Mart didn’t die for me to not wear this shirt.” His hands shifted into his pockets, glancing over at the line-up of potential replacements, the spectrum of colors available really could give him any choice. Leo’s eyes stayed with them a little longer before eventually giving up, zoning out after only a few seconds. “New deal. Pick out whatever, I don’t give a fuck,” his shrug added to the sentiment, before throwing out the rest of the offer, “but I get to pick something for you back. This just isn’t speaking to my aesthetic.“ Not that he could care less what she was actually wearing. “Cool?”

“none.” his question was answered with a smile alight across her face. “they’re all very nice.” and that was her honest truth. all bashful when found playing dress up, or at least man enough to admit that’s what they’d been doing. she found it entertaining, eased the tension in the room between stylist and client. they could be friends if they were going to have fun with the situation. “did you want that suit?” she turned towards the formal rack that had been pulled into the room, picking out a dark navy suit, the shoulder pads sewn in. “it’s very 80s, i didn’t think it fit.” but she didn’t know music very well yet. sometimes things could be subversive. it just wasn’t the band’s message as far as she’d understood. 

“your aesthetic!” her voice went up an octave for a moment, pulling at the light pink sweater so she could inspect it closer. “i thought this looked nice! it’s cashmere.” although if he didn’t appreciate the color, maybe that wouldn’t make a difference either. she thought it was important, if you were going to work in fashion— to dress the part. rockstars didn’t think so. “see feel it—” she held out the stretched material so that he might feel the quality of the material. “you don’t like it? really?” there was some honesty to her voice, seeking approval even when she didn’t need it. but she could turn it around all the same. “i’ll take your deal, but only if you’re honest.”

[katiewright]

zoexmarshall​:

Ampersand was the underdog, not a worthy contender against the soft commercial glow of People magazine or even the edgy cut-throat powerhouse that was Axed!. On that lowly totem pole, though, was the staff of Ampersand, and at that very bottom rung, face half-covered in dirt and splashed with mud whenever it rained, was little Zoe Marshall. Iced coffee, double espresso shot, pumped up with caffeine and sugar from the source of her clutched hand, her foot anxiously tapped outside the locked studio door as she sat, waiting to strike.

One sign of movement caused her to bounce up, short heel clunking against the concrete slab, caught on its edge, tote swinging into her side, coffee knocked forward as her balance flailed. She was hardly the viper she wanted to be, hand catching her fall, sacrificing the mocha as trade-off as it splashed. She would have rather had the scratched knee than the waste of five bucks and her lifeline to meeting today’s deadline. The deadline. The person. The door.

“No, no, no!” she grappled with the concrete, pushing herself up, flinging forward to just have her fingertips miss catching the closing door. “Shi-!” she caught herself, wheeling around to have the person finally in her viewpoint, eyes lighting up. “Hi!” She waved. Idiot! She waved! Hand still stained with the mocha she probably spilled on their shoes, and this girl waved! It was retracted, dried off on the back of her skirt. More idiot! “Heh. Fancy seeing you here, huh? …outside… you know…your studio… I mean, a studio. I don’t know whose this is… You busy?”

“oh shoot i’m sorry!” she grabbed the door and pulled it back to see the pool of mocha on the floor and the poor woman who was trying to get into the building. “not technically my studio. just using it for the week.” she flashed a smile, bright and brilliant. that it was hers for the entire week had been enough when she agreed to the project. even if it was just a music video, it was a step in the right direction. “but thank you for assuming!” 

she held the door for another moment before looking at the stain that was now spread across the material of her skirt, dark and going to dry to look like mud, absolutely ruining the color. “oh your poor skirt. jeez, i can take care of that.” she had a whole rack just waiting to be sorted through. really any of them could be switched out. “please let me at least replace that.” the coffee was a lost cause, she didn’t drink it and couldn’t make any, but clothing. she was good with clothes. “you can try some on.”

[katiewright]

leo!

@katiewright​

Leo’s reflection was parted in three angles, the mirror catching every important viewpoint of the graphic tee and weathered jeans, sneakers worn with the nibs of the laces long gone. He was in the wardrobe department and yet came to it looking like a charity case. In all truth, it was the last thing on his mind for the video, the musical aspect of the music video typically taking more precedence. Typically. Not for everyone.

“Fair warning, but if I wind up looking like a hedge fund manager, I will strip. And I usually don’t give discounts, so.”

“oh!” wardrobe designer on a music video was better than continuity girl. even if it was just a video and she’d had to listen to the band’s music over the weekend to make sure she understood them. it was a stepping stone, and then if it went right, like really right, she could add it to her resume and it was supposed to be an uphill shot from there. she could do it all on her own, without being a wright. it made a difference, that she landed these jobs on her own, it felt respectable. and she liked the band! really, she did. she thought she’d totally understood it, a little more indie and a little less rock, but then she walked into the fitting room and she wasn’t sure what less rock even meant.

“okay. no ties then. but no suits?” maybe no on the suits too. she should have known better. “no dress shoes. done. they wouldn’t have worked anyways.” she looked at her subject for a second. studying him until her eyes landed on his shirt. her laugh was quick but there none the less. she didn’t cut it off, the genuine fondness for a good pun couldn’t be denied. “i don’t think the t shirt can stay.” she said finally. “but i’ll let you pick the color of the new one. truce?”