Thread: Fashion Gone Goth [ xMILENKOx & Juicy Fresh ]

Fashion Gone Goth Name Daphnee Cynthia Cole Height 5 foot 4 inches, usually 5 foot 9 in heels Weight 117 pounds Build Slim, curvy, fairly petite Hair Dyed black Occupation Unemployed Three damn years I wasted being a secretary for the biggest douche I've ever met in my entire life. Three damn years I tortured myself just to make end's meat, barely supporting myself and living paycheck to paycheck. I wasn't even in the career I wanted. I was stuck, dreading every day, working at a snobby 4 and a half star hotel where I had to front-hand deal with every customer that wasn't happy. My dream was to work in fashion and to try to bring light to the different styles of trend. The punk in me really wanted to pursue a career in GothicIndustrial fashion and to eventually open up my own shop where I could place my own designs on the market. It was a far-fetched dream in a far-fetched industry that I was determined to achieve despite all ends literally against me. I was stuck with the current secretariat job until the unthinkable opportunity was presented to me. I had just quit my current job after lacking the ability to hear another customer exaggerate their misery. It was an irresponsible and dangerous act because I could barely pay the bills and now I was desperate and jobless, and could potentially face the loss of my apartment. I had been applying to several smaller fashion shops and jobs but with no luck. But there was one company I wanted nothing to do with, and that company was the only to open a position for Executive Director of the Photography Department a employment that literally screamed my name. It was a huge job way out of my employable league at the biggest international fashion business. The job was presented to me through a good friend, who happened to work as a secretary for the company. I laughed at two things, the fact that she even offered me a job at the cheekiest fashion power-house in the world, and the lack of credentials I couldn't provide in an application. But after days of convincing me I had nothing to lose, I decided to apply. Now here I was, standing in front of some of the most famous models on the celebrity market. It was as if everything was handed to me on a silver platter. It was a dream-job that I could dominate with ease, but it wasn't with the people I had wanted to associate myself with. No, no, no... I shook my head in disagreement as I looked at the model. The photographer seemed to be getting a little irritated with my constant interruptions. I was managing the current photo shoot for the newest line expected to hit clientele with a bang. But something about the way the model was portraying the clothes just bugged me. No one buys clothes to look like a total bitch. I was very direct, and that was probably what got me the job in the interview. The model glared at me with insult. But seriously, bare with me. I stated, holding the clipboard to my chest and using my opposite hand to point out her flaws. I think the problem with the atmosphere is attitude in the line. The line is rich and elegant but don't make it too rich. Keep it simple, as if anyone can rock the style without having to flaunt thousands of dollars on their breasts. I turned to speak to the photographer, And you, stop giving me that smug look. Don't make me set you straight, because it won't be pretty. Don't only focus on the clothing, make the picture reach into the soul of the viewers. She has beautiful eyes, let them be the grab that sucks the buyer into the image and makes them lust for her fashion. You want to market the beauty and personality as well as the clothing and sex. Got it? Good. Now let's take a short break, touch up her eyeliner, and let's do this all over again... I jotted down a few more notes on my paper before my attention was pulled by the sound of my name being called out. Yes, what do you want? Make it quick. I hadn't even turned around to see who it was. The clearing of the co-owners throat caused me to glance over my shoulder to sight who was behind me. I had to double take before I realized I was being introduced unexpectedly to the owner Paul Grow. I was quick to turn around, but I couldn't wipe that amused smile on my face. The expression that smudge your charming visage made me want to laugh. It was clear I wasn't the material you were expecting. And I was aware that I wasn't the typical type of employee to be hired at this kind of business. Mr. Grow... What an honor to meet you. The way I said that sounded strangely sarcastic and the raised-brow over my eyes gave a sense of humor to my voicing. I was dressed in completely different clothing. It wasn't in pieces of work that were designed and owned by the company. Everything I wore was foreign and different than the rest. My hair was long and a shocking black that could be spotted for miles. I had fair, pale skin with a thick lip hoop that stood out on the side of my hot red lipstick. But that wasn't the only piercing. My nose had a silver hoop on the right and my eyebrow had three piercings, side-by-side the middle was a diamond and the two on the end were black spiked studs. It didn't help that my ears had 4 piercings on the lobe, disclosing the industrial on my left and my double hoop on the right cartilage. I was wearing a black collar necklace with black beads and a red corset top that complimented my slim curves. The corset was tied with black ribbon on the chest that tied into a messy bow. The sides of the front corset were decorated with black lace, and the breasts' sweetheart cut had tiny black ruffles preluding from the inside of the top. My arms and shoulders were exposed both arms carried a tattoo sleeve. My bottom was a fairly simple black ruffled skirt with several layers of thin chains hanging from the waist. The skirt was short, but not too short just enough to reveal my extended and slender legs through the largely-holed fish net leggings. My feet were booted with black, studded stilettos that showed off my red pedicured nails. Didn't expect to see you here in the middle of a shoot.