It was her dream job; it was all she had ever hoped for: the perfect boutique, being popular with social invites from people all wanting to know her better, and trophies lined up on her shelves. But, the boutique, passed down to her from Michaela, had gotten repetitive. In fact, the whole industry and all its components had gotten repetitive. Danielle often left it to her assistants to manage the everyday operations of it. She just couldn't do it anymore; she wanted to get out the fashion industry.
One of the reasons was the customers. The vague requests, her customers' frequent shopping trips that occurred before she had time to restock, and the high expectations to be wowed away every single time, these were all contributors to her feeling of loathing towards her boutique. It used to be the main focus of her life. Danielle would come in early before dawn and leave late at night because she loved working. She meticulously used to make sure to plan her calendar so she could spend most of her time at the shop without having to miss out on too many invites to the park or cake shop. But now, she rarely went to work and instead, she had no idea what she wanted to do with her time.
She could go out and attend all the social gatherings she was invited too, but she no longer had the appetite for the pastries from the cake shop, she had tried all the tea flavors (and even the experimental ones) at the tea shop and lost her appreciation for all of them, and she was no longer in love with the glamour and appeal of the hotel. There were no more invites to the afterparty of winning a contest. Danielle wasn't even sure if afterparties were still being held anymore at the hotel. It seemed that only when she won a contest that there was an afterparty. Now, she wasn't partaking in contests anymore. Why bother when she knew all the tricks of winning each contest? She had it all, and now she didn't want any of it.
She hid in her apartment, ignoring her phone that flashed with the consistent texts and missed calls. She would need to put getting a new phone number on her to-do list. She couldn't use her phone anymore without the screen notifying her of another received text or another call sent to voice mail. Her laptop laid on her desk cold and unused. She didn't use it for social media like she had before becoming reclusive. She used to check it consistently every night. Each notification of another follower and another amazing five star review left a consistent smile and glow on her face. But now, she had changed her settings to not get notified when her follow count went up or another fan left a review proclaiming a love for her shop. It had gotten overwhelming trying to keep up with it all. She used to love giving it a personal touch by commenting on each review and taking each negative point as constructive criticism.
However, she had gotten so sick of the fashion industry and how the clothing was the same each year. It circled through the seasons. Zhade made luxury clothing, but kept using each pattern and each style thinking that the customers wouldn't notice. But they did and had expected Danielle not to sell them the same shirt they had brought two years ago. It had become such a hassle interacting with customers who complained about how they had the exact same pair of pants but a different color they had brought seasons ago. She had no idea how to deal with this problem because she could only restock from the Buyer's Center and it was impractical for her to keep track of the hundreds of customers and the wardrobe they had purchased from her boutique. They often bought whole outfits in one trip. She couldn't feasibly remember each purchase made at her shop. Some times, she couldn't remember where she left her apartment keys.
But it's not like she left her apartment too often to travel around the city anymore. Taking an hour off Sunday to restock at the Buyer's Center and to discover new things in the city used to be a highlight of her week. Now, she didn't want to see the same buildings, the sidewalks littered with people all trying to talk to her, and the persistent photographers trying to get her picture.
It was always her face plastered on the cover and always her boutique featured and always her as the stylist to be on the look out for. It didn't matter that Emmylou had been working under Michaela for five years before Danielle had even stepped foot on the once sleepy town. Personally, Danielle couldn't believe the lack of depth of coverage of the bustling fashion industry by magazines, especially Nuances. Every night, contests from beginner to international took place. Every night, a winner from each contest was picked. Yet, Nuances would fail to update and it would still be her as the latest contest winner.
However, even though she was the sole focus of all people in town, she didn't receive any flack for it. She remembered one meeting in early July with Emmylou at the fireworks display where Emmylou had expressed the greatest admiration for Danielle. It was a shock that Emmylou didn't nurse a grudge the size of the Contest Hall for the fact that Danielle took Michaela's boutique away from her. Nevertheless, it appeared that no one held it against Danielle that ever since her debut in the fashion industry, she dominated newspapers and magazines everywhere. Everyone held her in the highest regards.
It made her sick to have all these stacked expectations. It was maddening knowing that she was going to fail to reach everyone's expectations, but at time of her eventual failure, everyone will forgive her for not being good enough, yet the expectations won't budge down the slightest bit.
This is why she rarely ventured outside anymore. She had the delivery company send her groceries to her front door, the boutique paperwork was all done on the computer, and she even restocked her boutique online. Regardless, her email was consistently spammed by the representatives at the Buyer's Center urging her to go and visit so she could get a better feel for the brand and style. To her, it was unnecessary because she had been the industry for two long years and that was enough for everything to become mundane and tedious. Her closet wouldn't even shut due to the enormous amount of sample clothing sent from the Buyer's Center. Trophies that she once proudly lined up on her shelves were cluttered on the shelves that could now barely hold the overwhelming amount. She noted that she would need to pack them into boxes soon. The sight of them left a bitter taste in her mouth, just like everything else fashion related.