Setting Me On Fire

5

Fashion Talk

"What sparked your interest in fashion?" The interviewer asked. We were in my living room, and this morning I got a call to get interviewed by a fashion-based show named Fashion is in New York. I wasn't prepared, but I made sure to at least ease my mind before they had arrived.

Everyone else was in our home office down the hall, assembling all the necessities to make the fashion show breathtaking. We currently had fashion pieces that we are convinced will make everyone gasp in amazement.

"I love the idea of the transforming qualities clothing can give you. And no one recognizes this but fashion speaks volumes. When I was younger, I watched my mother, Luna Ambrosia, run her clothing-based company in Italy and I fell in love with it all, everything that goes into it. How collective people can be, and the united front that you see is amazing. My mother taught me a lot, I'm not entirely certain she's aware of that."

"She'll sure know now," the interviewer states. "So do you have a favorite from your new collection?"

I fold my hands over my crossed legs and smile. "The Oli Pop, it was the second one I sketched out and I fell in love with it. I created it because I wanted something that represented a mind in a way. How explosive and far your mind can go. You're diving into the deep end with this one, I'm sure our artsy audience got inspired."

The interviewer smiles with an excited nod. "I have no doubt they did, I have to say your collection is rather visual. Did this spark any new ideas in the future?"

"No, not at the moment."

She nods before she looks down at her paper. "You have a lot of fans who are wondering what your theme for this year's fashion week will be, and I do too."

"Skater Core, I'm stoked."

A few minutes later the cameraman announces, "And we're done." 

I stood up and shook hands with the interviewer. "Thank you for having me."

She smiles. "Oh no, thank you for accepting us. I mean you are the Morgan Ambrosia. We love you." I put both hands over my heart. Minda shows them out, and I sit back down. That wasn't as bad, but I need some water.

"Minda!" I hear the heel of her shoes tap against the marble floor.

"Yes, Ms. Ambrosia?" She stands before me with her hands clasped together.

I put my head in my palm as my elbow rests on the arm of the chair. "Bring me some water, and then whip me up some tea."

"Right on it, ma'am." She walks away, and I stretch my neck. I woke up so early for that interview. And tomorrow I won't get any sleep either because I have to take a flight to Miami Florida to see the Miami Fashion Week Show at the Wynwood Arts District.

The elevator dings and I glance over my shoulder to see who it is. I hear footsteps, I don't know how many, but they're headed this way. Suddenly I see Marco and his best friend, him, walking into the living room. My brother raises his arms at the sight of me.

"I'm back."

I turn back to the front and place my head back in my palm. I was too exhausted for him to be parading his stupidity around. And why did he always bring thing two with him?

"We saw you on tv just now, but we waited for them to leave before coming up," Marco says as they plop down on the leather couch.

"You should've stayed down there." I stand up and don't bother sparing any of them a glance. I leave them in the living room and walk up the stairs to recline and melt into oblivion.