Fashion! Turn to the left (Morgan)

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The Fashion Club; why it was positively just made for her! Of course Lottie had signed up the second she had heard about it, but she also had her sights set high. As of right now, as far as she could tell, the club was still without a president. Now she was still fairly new at the school, but she had already managed to get her name mentioned in the gossip radio broadcast thing, The Slap, so it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew who she was. Granted, what they had said hadn’t been entirely true, but there was no such thing as bad publicity, right?

Lottie entered the room... no, that wasn’t quite accurate; Lottie never just entered a room. She burst into a room, or sashayed, or waded in among a sea of her admirers; pretty much anything that guaranteed that all eyes would be on her, especially when she was dressed to the nines... which, let’s face it, when wasn’t she? The day Charlotte LaBouff stepped foot outside of her room in anything less than full hair and make-up was probably the day the world really ended. And honestly, even then she would probably go to her maker fully accessorized.

Today she had picked one of her best dresses: it was strapless with a full skirt and in a shade of blue that really brought out her eyes. Paired with the perfect jewellery, flirty heels and a feathery hat she certainly felt confident of victory as she walked into the room.

No, sashayed in.

[morgan]

He did suppose that Arthur and Gaston would thoroughly humiliate him later for taking part in the fashion club. They would call him gay, sissy and a eunuch, if they were feeling creative. He knew full well that he would probably be the only straight man walking into a club full of girls, (which was partly the appeal) but he knew his saving grace that he could dress impeccably well.

At least, he thought he could.

No, no, he really could, although his taste in clothing really were subject to opinion and cultural norms. So, in other words, he was one snappy dresser if you were a fan of Scottish attire.

He was wearing black sandals. They were considerably more elegant than traditional Scottish gillies and they had traces of Greek design in them. His tartan kilt fell to his knees and instead of a sporran, he wore a thick black leather belt and a thin, light gray cotton v-necked long-sleeved shirt, a scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair was brushed to perfection and glimmered, even in its dominant brown-colored genes. Lately, he had taken to wearing leather bracelets around his wrists, which gave him a tougher, more rustic, manly look than usual. His leather schoolbag was slung jauntily across one shoulder and rested low on his opposite thigh.

“Is this the…Fashion Club?” He questioned, putting a tone into his voice to suggest he didn’t really care much.

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With nothing else to do while she waited, alone in a room with several strategically placed mirrors, Lottie admired her reflection while quietly going over what she was going to say when she announced to them that she would be applying for president of the club. All that stopped, though, when she heard a rather attractive Scottish brogue behind her. Turning smoothly, she was pleased as punch to see that it belonged to a rather attractive Scottish rogue... then she looked him over.

Unfortunately the rather attractive Scottish boy was dressed rather unattractively. She knew that kilts were ‘sort of their thing’, though she had never understood the appeal of a man in a skirt, but with the plain shirt and the scarf and the bag and the cuff and oh boy, what a disaster.

“It certainly is!” she trilled. Giving him a sympathetic look, she rushed forward and circled around him once, giving his outfit a very thorough once-over. It didn’t improve with proximity nor with scrutiny. “Oh honey, you came to the right place. We can help you here, don’t you worry!”

Okay, so she knew nothing about the club, but even if it was intended for fashionable people like herself to sit around and talk about what was the cat’s meow, certainly it could extend a little bit to help the fashionably challenged, right? As her first motion as president, she was certainly going to make this rule if it didn’t already exist.