Welcome to Gaia! ::

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Renee risked a glance at the clock that hung over the door of the workroom, trying not to get flustered as she worked. After all, nobody, especially a model, would enjoy a pin stabbing them, and personally, the young designer had no desire to make a bad impression. She wasn’t exactly sure how her agent, Kurt Dalton, had managed to finagle her into designing the shoot, but he had, and Renee knew that she’d owe him, especially if it took off the way she hoped it would.

That didn’t solve the problem that there were a couple models MIA, though. Frowning slightly, she turned her attention back to her work, nodding absently at the model as she pinned and adjusted the skirt’s hemline, too nervous to talk much. Everyone in here was way above her level. Needless to say, Renee was feeling a bit inadequate, which also meant she was beginning to question the vision she had for this particular ensemble.

It also meant she wasn’t sure what to do to keep the models happy, so she worked swiftly and silently, helping the current model out of the last of her garments and returning them to the mannequin to be finished and adjusted. Renee smiled slightly and thanked the statuesque woman and looked around to see who was left - or who would be showing up.

Renee was so distracted by her own nervousness that she was momentarily oblivious to the next model’s own anxiety -- until the towel fell and the introduction made. The designer blinked, recognizing the name and at the same time, unsure of how to handle what had just occurred. Like the others, she was drop-dead gorgeous, and with that smile, it was like a proverbial poison apple. She returned the girl’s smile with a small one of her own, keeping her eyes locked on the model’s.

“Hello, Ana, I’m Renee. Pleased to meet you.” She cleared her throat and tried to keep things as neutral as possible, wracking her brain as to why the name sounded familiar. The Latina beauty seemed vaguely familiar, her face a foggy memory in the Korean girl’s mind.

“You could have kept your lower undergarments on,” she nodded at the towel and waved her over to the mannequins with the clothes she intended to fit, waiting for the other to either pick up the towel or move. Renee was a private person, and though she’d normally give the towel back personally, that would present a bit of an awkward situation. Or rather, more so than what had already passed. She just wished she knew if she was out of line or not. Not only had she not been in the business long enough, everyone had their own preferences as to how this went down, and considering the fact that some of the clothes were essentially a second skin…

“Ah, never mind for the moment,” she realized a bit too late. “We’ll go ahead and fit you into the shorter dress, first, and see what you think.” She lead the model to a short, deep red dress with a single shoulder composed of bold geometric shapes that flowed in small layers to the waist’s side and back out again, accenting the thin waistline and highlighting both shoulder and collarbone. Renee was probably considered an oddball in her profession, finding hidden allures in beauty and drawing them out. This dress, falling a little above mid-thigh (she wanted sexy, not slutty, after all), did just that.

“Thank you.“ Renee hoped the girl meant it, feeling herself glow slightly under the praise for her work. This dress in particular had been a headache and a half to create, but it was one that she was highly fond of. “It’ll be a good color on you, it seems.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from blushing. Obviously, there were certain aspects of the business she’d have to get used to. It hadn’t been the nudity in itself so much as the fact that, paired with Ana’s looks and that smile, it was like a poison apple dangling in front of the world. She chuckled at her own metaphor and gently removed the dress, helping the model into the dress with as more ease. Still, her skin felt like fire when Renee’s hand touched her, a sign of the designer’s growing nerves.

“It’s nearly a perfect fit,” she declared happily, pulling out her pins and crouching to adjust the hemline. She made sure to stay out of Ana’s reflection as much as possible, knowing already how models loved to fawn over their own image when they were pleased.

“You have gorgeous legs,” she added absently as she worked, turning a bright red herself as she realized how much it sounded like she was coming on to the other girl. She laughed a little awkwardly and tried again. “But then, you probably already knew that, Ana.” Saying the girl’s name again got Renee’s mind rolling. She stopped for a moment and looked up at Ana’s face, studying her for a moment as several memories collided into each other: the wedding reception, a lovely model working for Walk of Fame who had given her a number and a promise to see her show; champagne being spilled all over one of her beloved creations; a SWAT invasion that changed everything…ding! Score one for Renee - her mind was making leaps and bounds. Not necessarily in the working category (and she needed it to, to get this fitting done and done right), but for a potential social aspect. Maybe even a friend.

“Ana Cruz…” she mused for a moment, sitting back on her heels. “You probably don’t remember me, do you? Renee Cardot? We met at the wedding reception last year.” At least, she hoped it was this particular Ana. Renee would be horridly embarrassed if it had been someone else all along.

.Renee wouldn’t have known about Ana’s drinking, anyway: she hardly knew the girl and had only seen people drink about half a glass or totally trash themselves. She knew a gray area existed, but at the same time, highly doubted it.

Still, a familiar face was welcome, indeed, and she felt herself relax a little, getting into the conversation as she continued working and responding with more than simple, noncommittal noises or phrases. She noticed the girl hunch in a bit and raised up the shoulder design with a single finger as a delicate peace offering.

“Here, let me get that,” she offered, stopping where she was to handle the issue of over-exposed flesh. Secretly, she had to admit that the dress was perfect for Ana, which gave her a little thrill of excitement inside.

“Believe it or not, they hired a small-town girl like me.” She flashed a grin at Ana’s reflection before she pinning the rest of the shoulder together and returning to the hemline. She’d worry about how to fix the fall of the geometric shapes in a moment - that was going to require physical contact that now seemed almost embarrassing, even if she was supposed to be a professional. It was like going up to a new acquaintance and petting them in public while talking about the weather or something equally nonsensical. Still, if she wasn’t careful, Renee was going to find herself hopping all over the place in the quest of multi-tasking and wind up only half finished.

“Milton's gala? I was there for most of it, though I didn’t stay for the revealing,” she admitted. “I wasn’t feeling the greatest that night, I’m afraid. Met a few new acquaintances, though. What about you? I imagine you came in something stunning, of course.” No harm in complimenting a potential friend and co-worker, not to mention that it was pretty obvious. If you were a model, you were stunning, end of story. You knew what would and wouldn’t work for your body, even if a designer fluked. Renee herself had seen more than one throw a tantrum and even walk out because things hadn’t worked out the way they should have.

“Oh, nowhere you’ve heard, I’m sure,” Renee offered with a sheepish grin. “It’s one of those towns nobody knows of unless they’ve lived there all their life. Thirty miles or more to the nearest decent Wal*Mart, of all things, never mind any decent shops or boutiques.” She shook her head at this decidedly sad detail, but failed to mention she was a spendthrift shopped when it came to clothes for herself. Practicality and function over flair was how she’d been raised, and not once could Renee ever recall having a lot of money for much of anything. Thankfully, she’d been spared the tradition of hand-me-downs.

Then she realized that she’d pretty much deflected the question. Not wanting to seem rude, she decided to elude a bit more. “It’s in northern Illinois, about two hours out past Chicago; including the suburbs.” She fell silent as she fiddled with a particularly stubborn pin and nearly pierced herself with it in the process. Truth was, Renee didn’t really want to think about home - it was too painful. Even saying the town’s name could bring a lump to her throat if she wasn’t careful, and she hadn’t talked to her parents in ages, which only made it worse. Talk about guilt-tripping…

“What about you?” she asked, eager to steer the conversation from herself. “Where’re you from? What made you chose Belle?” She couldn’t remember what magazine Ana said she’d been working with, so she was hoping it was a safe topic.

“Yeah, no foot and half of snow here.“ Renee laughed, figuring Ana’s home to be something like that. Most models came from big towns, or at least adventurous ones where they could keep up or even set trends. It was a part of life, not to mention that the girl radiated vibrancy.

“The same, really, I suppose,” she admitted after a moment. “There’s always bills to pay, and I can’t work a second job on the side forever. My agent set me up with the current shoot; as much to get my feet wet as to push me forward.” She made a face. “Apparently, I need to work on being more aggressive.” She nodded absently at Ana admitting to working for Chic, not realizing just how deeply that work went or the proper etiquette for models jumping ship.

“Sorry, but I need to make sure this falls right…” She purposely trailed off with her hand at Ana’s shoulder, adjusting some of the “ruffles” and indicating that she would need to go further.. She cursed herself for the flush that crept up her cheeks, scolding herself for being such a push-over. She was in the business world now, and the world of fashion, to boot.. There was no place for this!

Flattery was honey-coated medicine in disguise. Whether Renee would admit to it or not, it worked, and also distracted her long enough to get the job done, adjusting and pinning certain pieces in place until she was satisfied, studying Ana with a highly critical eye as she went.

“Well, a little, but nothing on as grand a scale as this,” she admitted, biting the tip of her tongue as she circled Ana like a vulture. “Mostly free-lance and charity work. Like you said, stuff that doesn’t always pay. Still, it’s what I love.” Her smile turned sweeter at the very thought. Those who knew her growing up would always wonder how Renee got into fashion. Heck, sometimes Renee herself did so, too, to this very day.

“That’s it for this one,” she said after a few more adjustments, coming around behind Ana to unpin the dress. “We’ll have to be careful with this next one: it’s….delicate.” She undid the dress and returned it to the mannequin before moving on to the next piece. It was a quarter-length sleeve top with a daring neckline made of a collage of reds, muted somewhat so that even the brightest colors wouldn’t make the eyes bleed. One look at it, however, one could see what she meant. It was highly transparent.

"But I'm sure a pro like you already knows that," she added.

It was easy to see by the way she handled the garment and her own conduct that Ana did more than live for fashion; she needed it like oxygen. Score a couple brownie points for that. Her question took Renee by surprise, and the designer couldn’t help but give a light, almost indignant snort followed by a little giggle. Who had time for a boyfriend when you were working on fame and trying to keep a money flow? Nevermind her own jaded beliefs regarding any sort of personal love life. She shook her head, hoping that other wouldn’t find her rude.

“Not really, no. I’m still pretty new in town.” It was a lame excuse, but true, nevertheless. She hadn’t really met anyone to hold on as a friend, let alone anything more intimate. “I made sure I was single before I left home, too. Long distance relationships are almost impossible, you know.” She set about on the fitting, biting her lip in thought before running back to her worktable and pulling out a length of black trim and coming back to where Ana stood. “I think this one was made for you,” she teased as she studied the girls reflection. It had just a bit of flow, but was still snug enough to stay close to the body. The fabric had been a nightmare, refusing to lay as it should, but now seemed to behave perfectly as it was being fitted, like a car that has a problem but always runs fine on a mechanic’s test drive. In Renee’s mind, she stuck her tongue out at the piece.

“What about you? Surely you’ve got at least one boy pining away for you?” She realized that she was sort of parroting Ana, but couldn’t help it. She was rarely the instigator of a conversation.