Catch Me If You Can

Chapter 2

 The day went quickly, a grey faded blur of classes, extensive notes, and droning professors. Heavy bags, filled with thick text books, banging against sore legs, leaving bruises. Sore eyes and aching hands.

Well that was Alec's day at least.

Izzy on the other hand went about the entire day with a massive dark red smile. Her bag was stylish and comfortable, one of her many Gucci bags, a lovely deep magenta matching her lipstick. Of course, her lipstick matched her bag, it was Izzy. It felt like a feather in the crook of her arm, the bright colourful files in it seemingly weightless. All her classes were, in her mind, fascinating and completely essential. First, there was Business, Izzy gave an elaborate presentation on the slow increase of women in the work place and why there were few women in top positions. Next, as always, was Chemistry, Izzy had bedazzled her lab coat and her name was neatly embroidered in hot pink, cursive writing on her breast pocket. She loved learning about the particles and atoms that surrounded her, as well as creating the occasional slightly explosive mixture in a test tube. She had squealed as a puff of grey smoke had begun curling out of the test tube, the midday sun reflecting off the gems inlaid in her vivid pink lab glasses.

However, those were nothing compare to Izzy's final and favourite lesson of the day.

Textiles!

Oh, the study of satin silks and fluffy faux. Watching the rise and fall of great designers. Learning how to manipulate even the most stubborn textile, turning it into a beautiful tote or a flowing skirt. Designing outfits celebrities would kill for. Draping beautiful fabrics over the pure white mannequins, swathing them in layer upon layer of brightly patterned materials, sewing elaborate detail on with paper thin needles. Buttons and sequins littered the work surfaces and the place smelt like rich perfumes and broken thread, with a slight metallic tinge coming from the sewing machines.

Izzy breathed it all in, immediately her mind relaxed as she slid onto her high, wire stool, the plush red seat moulding under her.

She got out her Fashion file. It was stuffed with tons of different fabrics, buttons stuck to the pages, images of designers and their works, her own drawings of close cropped jackets and long billowing dresses. Mini skirts and blouses, beautiful outfits, each with a bright post-it note stuck beside it, displaying a grade and any comments the professor had left. Flicking through she saw what she saw every lesson, a curving A, usually accompanied by "brilliant choice of fabric" or "great pairing" and "beautiful designs, well-chosen accessories, could you do this exercise with another designer for homework?" in slanted writing.

Suddenly a hand, with shinning black nails reached over her shoulder and tapped the page. On it was a long simple white dress with long fluted white lace sleeves.

"I remember a time when all women wore beautiful dresses like that."

The boy sat down on the chair next to her, swinging his black leather, paint-splattered bag onto the desk.

If you just saw him out on the street he would have looked very out of place. His jet-black hair was tipped with a violent purple and stuck out in every direction on his head. He had tanned Asian skin and his thin slanted eyes were lined with black, making them look bigger and turning his eyes from a soft green almost to a yellow. He wore a rich purple blazer, covered with a swirling black and silver pattern, which reflected in the sunlight. Underneath he wore a silk black shirt and ties round his neck was a black, silver, and plum neckerchief, very much like what posh Victorian men used to wear only much more elaborate, tucked into the top of his shirt. Sliver rings adorned his fingers which were busy rummaging around in his bag. Strangest of all, he wore tight leather pants with a criss-cross of cord down each side. He had on thick soled, black punk boots with silver buckles and studs framing the sides.