The Catwalk

The Catwalk

by

Rachel Cooke

(age 14)

My silver and pink Miu Miu heels click on the tile floor of the long hallway. I reach the end, haul open the clean white door, and step into the bustling, overflowing room of eccentric people -people hollering, texting, bossing, ordering, applying, curling, braiding, pinning, traipsing, posing, smiling. Ahhhh, this is my element.

“Meredith Vogue!” a posh voice called from across the room. “Fetch me the mint green Chanel with the buttons up the side.”

That’s Jen. My boss. She is the manager of the entire Fashion Week and boy is that a big job, but also such an incredible title and honour. It’s still so inconceivable to me that I got the position as her assistant after seven years of working for her fashion business and in the industry. It really is a huge blessing and privilege.

The soft, expensive fabric feels nice in my hands as I carry it gently and carefully over to Jen, or rather over to the model she was styling for the runway rehearsal. We, of course, have to do a practice with the models before the show tomorrow as it is such an artsy and new type of show this year. The models have never done anything like it. It’s almost like choreography on the catwalk. Our goal is to do something so unique and trendsetting, that it will make fashion headlines and shock, as well as wow, the broad audience of critiques and celebrities. 

 After laying down the coat, I walk around for a bit adjusting and prepping. This show is going to be epic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The next day I watch from the crowd as models of all shapes and sizes sashay down the catwalk to a thick layer of empowering, electrifying music that is lighting up their faces and making their legs just want to naturally pop out and strut to the beat. Yes, this is exactly what we were envisioning.  We wanted a show filled with beautiful, strong, bright girls, not starving, skeletal girls with slicked back hair and limited makeup just to please the trends.

 These girls are stunning. Glowing, healthy, faces and toned arms and legs that aren’t tiny and bony. They are proudly showing off the new collection that I, Meredith, had personally helped design. I pull my shoulders back a little and display a wide grin.

 Daisy, our true exotic girl, with long black hair and bright green eyes, comes smiling down the runway with tall red pumps adorned with small metallic bows, and a metallic dress that accentuates her  waist.  She stops in the middle of the walk and does a short thirty second, flowing dance routine that lead’s perfectly and seamlessly with the next girls lined up behind her. Julia, the next girl in line, has a bright neon purple bodysuit with gold zippers and sparkly gold pumps.

 This is definitely going to start some conversations and lots of trends. This is exactly what the fashion industry needs – a breath of fresh air, and some new ideas and shows.

 I feel proud and confident with my head held high as a journalist heads in my direction, small voice recorder box and pen and paper in tow. I’m happy to share my vision for the fashion industry. And about my success in this show.

 After seven years of hard work and dedication, I have finally gotten my shining moment. I am elated, and I wouldn’t have had the years go by any other way.

(assignment for Lesson #5 of Polliwog Writing Lessons)

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