AN: Hi, and Welcome... Just wanted to say enjoy, and, you know... anything recognizable is not mine...
Chapter 1 Defying Fashion
First impressions. We make them all the time. Working in the Fashion industry, I have come to experience first hand just how important that first contact with someone else can be. It is not just about judging people, putting them into neatly arranged boxes organised after styles and fashion statements. A first impression, if done properly, can express everything from your personality to your type of job. So if you are, say, a fashion editor for a youthful, upmarket magazine you might decide to dress casual smart with just a bit of edgy accessories, rather than say, a pastel coloured dress suit with pearl earrings and rosa lipstick. Get this balance right, and you have mastered the art of expressing yourself before you even open your mouth. You have mastered the art of the good first impression.
VonTrappChild
Kurt Hummel let his head fall forwards, landing on the desk with a muffled thump. He stayed like that, hunched over, breathing deliberately, for a few minutes. Some days he was just about ready to quit his job at F&S. - it wasn't that he didn't like writing about Fashion and Style, he did. Often times that was the only thing getting him out of bed in the morning. What got to him was the constant chattering around his tiny cubicle, the judging looks, the condescending remarks. He knew he was still young, having only graduated little over a year ago. But to him that didn't warrant a visit each morning from his superior, complete with 'advice' on how to do a job his degree from NYU more than qualified him to do. The magazine Fashion & Style, a magazine aimed at young upper-class metropolitan women, had not been Kurt's first choice as a new journalist graduate, but they were the only ones willing to hire someone fresh out of college.
Straightening up again with a sigh, Kurt fixed his hair and pulled his keyboard towards him. He was still stuck doing reviews of children's fashion shows - that he didn't even get to go to - and tips on what not to pair with the colour pink. Ignoring the squeals coming from Marisa's booth, he started typing. The sooner he got this article send of to editing the sooner he got to go home and sleep.
"Kurt, darling." Eliza, his editor, interrupted his stream of thoughts just as he was finishing up the last paragraph. "Can I speak with you for five minutes?" Without waiting for a reply she stepped into his cubicle, leaned against the desk next to his chair and looked down at him over the rim of her deep red and blue glasses. "Honey, we need to talk about your "dress for school" piece. Now, firstly it is far too long, but I think you knew that? But, more importantly, we need to look at your use of language! Honey, you are in no position to be so... Judgmental! Now, I know you were trying to be... Amusing, but honey, I'm sorry, it just didn't work. Maybe if you were one of our columnist, or senior journalist, or even a designer, you might have some... Authority to pass these judgements. But you are not, are you darling? So I need you to rewrite the piece by tomorrow, and perhaps you could talk to Nicole about the recent trends, yeah? She studied at NYU you know. Anyway, I won't take anymore of you time. Have it for me by tomorrow, along with the McPherson piece. Nice chatting to you, bye bye," and she was gone, silence following in her wake, and Kurt knew the other journalists had been listening to the one sided conversation.
Furious, but with no outlet for his anger, Kurt pulled up a document on his screen and deleted its contents. It took him five hours to redo the piece. He might have gotten it done in four, but Nicole, F&S's newest employee, felt it appropriate to give an hour long lecture on the recent trends in College wear. By the time he finally turned off his computer everyone in the office had already left for the night.
About an hour later, still fuming, Kurt entered his tiny apartment with a bottle of chardonnay in a brown bag and a box containing a cheesecake under his arm. He made a beeline for the kitchen where he dumped the box on the counter and pulled out a wineglass from a cupboard above the sink. With a sigh he leaned against the counter on one hand and poured a liberal amount of white-golden liquid into the glass. Kurt tried to uphold a healthy and relatively alcohol-free lifestyle but sometimes indulgence was the only cure to the disappointment that was his life at the moment.
He had come to New York filled with dreams 6 years ago. - yes, he had hoped to be about to attend NYADA at the time, but fate had decided differently and NYU had seemed a good alternative. He had chosen fashion and journalism over music despite NYUs decent reputation, because, as he explained to Rachel again and again, he had felt a calling in that direction. And the first two years had been fantastic. Admittedly he would have liked for there to be more boys, had expected it in fact. But he made a number of friends and did well in his classes. Then the worst had happened. His dad had had another heart attack, and this time he didn't pull through. Kurt had never really gotten back on his feet after that. On nights like this, standing in his tiny kitchen with a glass of white wine and a whole cheesecake in a box, the intense need to hear his father's voice was as strong as ever.
Letting the tears of grief and frustration spill over, Kurt pulled out a bowl and filled it with the cold rice dish he had intended to serve for Rachel when she came by the next day. He was too tired and too depressed to cook the chicken sitting in the fridge. Grabbing a tray he piled the wine, the bowl of rice and vegetables and the cheesecake in its box onto it and brought it the five steps over to the couch in the adjoining living room.
Once the bowl of rice was empty and the first episode of his Project Runway marathon over, Kurt grabbed his laptop from its place hidden under this months edition of Vogue on the coffee table. He had first been introduced to the world that was blogspot while he was still in college. Noticing how fed up with set assignments Kurt was, one of his professors had suggested starting a blog where he could express his more creative side free of restraints. Since then, Kurt attempted to update at least once a day; just little snippets of thoughts and ideas that occurred to him. Taking one more sip of wine before placing the now empty glass on the table, Kurt finally let out some of the pent up frustration of the day by writing about the attire of one of the senior editors at the magazine. Feeling surprisingly uplifted and suddenly exhausted, Kurt surfed through his reading list, catching up on his favorite blogs while picking at a piece of cheesecake.
AN; Okay, so that was the first chapter... the second may possibly be up in a few hours... The whole story has been written for some time, so... let me know what you thought... if you feel like it... until next time...