is not over yet but it’s time to take a moment and applaud all the natural hairstyles that have appeared at the Spring 2016 shows. Black and biracial models with different hair types and textures, including curly, wavy and kinky, were turning heads as they hit the runways with their magnificent manes.
The apartment was somewhere on a narrow street on the 15th arrondissement. It was small, and packed, and the kind of place reminiscent of the famous Doherty-Moss photo of the supermodel dangling from a balcony. It felt like that sort of night, too.
Jude had separated from Stella several hours ago, her to attend yet another Fashion Week after party. Personally, it was the last thing on earth he’d wanted to do, and if he saw Karl Lagerfeld’s mug one more time that week than absolutely necessary, he was about to lose it. So Jude accompanied a young musician named Michel to a friend’s get-together. It was smaller, more intimate, and of a different sort of crowd — more bohemian; musicians and artists, photographers and vagrants. His kind of scene, much more preferred to the flash and glitter of VIP lounges and bored twentysomething daughters of designers.
A group was crowded around a makeshift turntable, the song pumping out of hi-fi speakers a remix, an up and coming DJ showcasing his wares. Jude was an observant, leaned against the railing of the balcony looking into the scene, lips tugging on a cigarette. The sun had long set and the smoke curled up into the light of a street lamp.
They weren’t terribly high up, on the third floor, and as he watched the people in the room come and go, a familiar kind of boredom crept on him. The kind that usually preceded an interlude of the search for drugs. Except this wasn’t New York City, and the usual people he had on dial would not apply.
He looked up as an attractive looking girl crossed the threshold of the room into the cold air of the balcony. He gave her a brief nod, continuing his business with the cigarette, pulling and puffing and watching the smoke release into the air above them, the music drifting from the other room. A shout. Laughter. Another bottle opened. A pause. Silence in the room then a shift in mood along with the track. Amy Winehouse.
Jude let several charged seconds pass before he finally spoke. Hopefully, she understood English. Though, if she didn’t understand English, that wasn’t much of a problem either. Flirtatious body language was understood in any language. “Am I the only one here as bored out of my mind as could be, or do you feel it too?"
Walking into the classroom the only person she saw was Piper. She didn’t dislike the girl because once upon time they were friends but people grow up and change. Yet that didn’t mean she was gonna be a bitch. “Hey pips.” she smiled as she took her seat at the table. Reaching into her bag she got her YSL gloss but pause before applying it. “Hey, my mom got me tickets to this fashion show. I have three tickets if you want to go, with Lux and me.” she told her. She knew Piper had a thing about being around people but she figured it was a fashion show could the girl really say no. “You have time to think about it, I mean all the good shows haven’t started yet. Plus its tickets to fashion week can you really say no?” she smiled.