This Just In: @poloralphlauren Patchwork Madras Sport Coat. $70 @ eBay. Yes, I bought a madras jacket on the first day of fall. No regrets. Perfect fit. 3/2 roll, triple patch pockets, and swelled edges. And yes, I have two of these now. No regrets. 🤗 Good night.
This story is space opera and hurt-comfort and many things I love only if they’re done exceptionally well. It was the one WIP I waited for daily. It’s strikingly lovely and the way MQ builds a world makes it feel like you’re in it, not having it described to you. It has a weary, fierce, imperfect Kurt aching and fighting for a life and a warm, generous, imperfect Blaine, looking out for Kurt.
This is the first line and you can see how quickly and remarkably MQ weaves a world around you.
Kurt’s left knee twinges sharp as it takes his weight down to the floor of the hangar bay. The cryo-sickness is always worse coming back in off the Andromeda run because of the short turnaround. It’s three months there and back, but he feels aged three hundred years. It’ll take days to feel right again.
This is a delightful AU set in a menswear boutique with lots of delicious detail and grown-up romance. It’s smart and warm and full of crisp talented people who are adult enough to think they don’t believe in love. There are some heartbreaking moments and some sweet sweet moments that are all the more affecting because the writing is quick and calm.
This is early in the piece and shows the careful humour and attention to detail alongside all the romantic potential of this story.
Sam is there on the couch drinking coffee, the way he often is when he’s not working. Kurt doesn’t mind; Sam’s a good guy, and it’s not like having a model hanging out at the store is bad for business. Angus is helping a customer by the ties. Kurt makes his own coffee, talks with Sam for a bit, and wanders back to the counter in time to see Angus ring up the customer’s purchases. Two bow ties and a pocket square, each a riot of color and pattern. The pocket square will work with either tie, for a man fashion-forward enough to risk it. Kurt finds himself impressed with the man’s taste.
“Good choices,” he says.
“Thanks,” says the man. He’s got on a madras jacket in blues and pinks and a green bowtie. His hair is brushed back in a ridiculous Cary Grant hairdo that emphasizes the gray coming in at his temples. He should look like a walking punchline, but it works. Maybe it’s the smile, or the clear bright brown eyes. “Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
Kurt tries not to smile. “My name’s Kurt.”
To his credit, the customer understands his faux pas immediately. “Oh! Oh, wow, Mr. Hummel, wow. That’s embarrassing. I’m a big fan.”
A tiny little piece of poetry with Adam watching Kurt and knowing he’ll lose him. It’s beautiful and true to young people and that kind of early prongs of love for someone you’ll never have.
Also it introduced me to stulti :)
He didn’t mean for you to get so invested. He isn’t used to being desired, knows what he looks like when he stands in front of a mirror, but has no idea what he’s like lit by late afternoon sunlight in a coffee shop, bashful grin and lowered eyelashes until he forgets himself and says something so mean and razorishly funny that it’s all you can do not to guffaw your chai right out your nose and into your lap.
On a tree-lined block of Elizabeth Street in Soho stands a quiet boutique with a simple sign out front. Kurt Hummel, Men’s Clothing. It’s been there for over ten years now: one of a few high-end boutiques on this block at first, now surrounded by flashier neighbors, stores with big plate-glass windows facing the street and no one behind the counter who could tell a half-Windsor from a four-in-hand. The sort of people who shop in those stores might peer in the window at Kurt Hummel, but they keep on walking. Which is fine with Kurt Hummel, men’s clothing designer.