"Looks like a palm tree" Cruella thought, but she wasn't one to shy away from daring hairstyles herself. Another model came gliding down the runway in a fully lynx baby-doll coat dress, the skirt and hem ruffled over in layers of the softest and plushiest lynx fur she had ever seen, the waist bound by a golden sash, with almost the entire top being a massive, perfectly circular hood configuration, in which the models upper body lie naked, breast almost peeking out, it was like a fur cradle for a queen, as Cruella's eyes glazed over, she thought to herself that the hood alone must consist of at least 6 lynx pelts. That was the thing about Jean Pierre, he always used too many animals on one project, or too contrasting colors, or not enough blah blah blah, it didn't matter because critiques always complained, but after they debuted, what was "too much" was now the new norm.
"Always the trend setter, second only to yours truly" Cruella thought as she basked in her own accomplishments, her own private battles between Monsieur Le Pelt and The House of De Vil, the largest fashion world feud, ended only when she was arrested for dog napping.
"Pitty, that coat would have put Monsieur Le Pelt into bankruptcy". Cruella's thought was interrupted, and she quickly became disgusted at the most bland looking evening gown she had ever seen, with the only fur being around the breast and pelvis, being worn by a model who looked like she had been rolled over on roadkill, but when she reached the end of the stage, the model ripped of the fabric covering her midriff and legs, revealing the most scrumptious looking snow leopard two piece. Dropping the jaws of every man in the crowd, Cruella pictured herself sporting Le Pelt's newest swimsuit creation. She then continued her thought, like an explorer observing an animal thought to be extinct "Or perhaps Monsieur Le Pelt has more surprises up his sleeve then I thought".
As the models came and went, Cruella thought back to her days of modelling. It was her first passion, modelling the furs she had loved to look at while sewing and sketching, and fur was more popular then than it had ever been. She was confident she could do the job with triple the skill of these models, while being about a decade older to boot. The modelling had another purpose, though, with her and Jean Pierre engaged in highly illegal activity, they had to find a way to smuggle the fur around. "Why Monsieur Le Pelt" Cruella would say to him in a mocking, playful voice "We hide it in plane sight!".
Before her memories could finish being placed down, the reminiscing of her catwalk days ended, and at the thought of his name, he appeared. Standing at the far end of the catwalk, surrounded by the clapping models who presented his creations, the deity of fur himself came rounding the corner, out of the smoke. With the aid of a very pompous looking walking staff, Jean Pierre came lumbering down the runway with a massive tiger fur coat with fox sleeves and collar. As he walked further down, his lumber became more of a powerful and confident stride, as he tossed his staff aside and turned around, back facing the crowd. "What are you up to, Frenchman?" Cruella thought to herself.
As soon as he'd turned around, Jean Pierre whipped open his coat, exposing himself to the models that still stand at the far end of the runway. The crowd gasped, a beautiful young blonde in the row behind Cruella gave out a delighted scream, putting her hand over her mouth. To many women who adored fur, and attended these shows, the hulking frenchmen was quite the looker, and the idea of him undressing onstage had obviously excited the short haired blonde, along with many other women in the crowd. But Cruella only smiled and rolled her eyes, as Jean Pierre turned around, whipping the coat off to reveal he wasn't actually naked, but rather wearing a tight leather shirt, with black fox fur coating the upper shoulders and waist, and a jaguar kilt. To most people, the distinction between jaguar and cheetah was difficult, but it seemed as though Jean Pierre had solved this problem, by mounting the distinctive jaguar head on the crotch of the kilt. He presented himself like a king, to the adoring fan girls gushing with laughter and applause in the crowd, and again Cruella rolled her eyes. "Just like I remember him, bold Frenchman" she thought.
As she began to lightly clap, a group of people rushed in front of the stage. Most people here were dressed in the latest fashions, including the latest furs from other designers. But when these people came to the front of the stage, the first words that came to Cruella's head were "homeless shelter", and she knew immediately who these people were. Dressed in ripped denim and worn flannel, holding signs and buckets, and chanting "murderer", the protestors doused Jean Pierre in buckets of fake imitation blood, ruining the piece that moments ago he had so graciously gifted to the fashion crowd let out a gasp, and then began screaming in horror at the demonstrators. Police and security guards quickly rushed to the stage, grabbing the PETA protesters as they continued to chant and shout.
Cruella was disgusted in a whole new way tonight, and began to boil and rage in her seat. She quickly calmed herself, remembering what her parole officer Chloe Simon had said, "If you go anywhere near fur, i'll put you straight back in prison". For that reason Cruella had hid her face with a decorative masquarding mask, and a dark black beaded veil. No one had approached her throughout the night, so the disguise must be working well, since she was still one of the biggest names in fur fashion, she would have been swarmed the minute she stepped foot in the building if she were recognized. It was also for what Chloe had said that made Cruella so devilishly giddy at what she has instore for her puppies. The night before she left to come see the fashion show, as she lay in her furs, playing and stroking them, being utterly in love, she giggled at the idea of Chloe crying over the sight of her skinned puppies, as Cruella wears the puppy coat of her dreams in front of an adoring crowd. The thought of being embraced in the warmth of her furs put her back in the moment, back in the seat, and back looking at Jean Pierre. She was growing tired with associating the love of fur with him. Cruella hypothesized that, because of the flood of merories coming in, the love of fur she had was beginning to seep into the memories of her and Jean Pierre.
"Surely I couldn't have feelings for him,I'm Cruella De Vil! I love no one!" she laughed to herself the night before in bed, surrounded by a chinchilla blanket.
Cruella reminded herself of this at least a dozen times before coming to tonight's show, but to no avail, her mind wanders when Jean Pierre is in the room. As he stood there, covered in the bright red imitation blood, Jean Pierre went wild eyed, and began to approach the protesting crowd, but paused, and turned back around, following his fleeing models off of the stage. Cruella remembers reading in the paper about another protester at one of Jean Pierre's shows, and that unlucky fellow didn't have the luxury of the police getting to him in time, as Jean Pierre had reportedly "snapped the demonstrators arm in over 4 different places", according to what Cruella could remember reading. I guess Jean Pierre had calmed down since then, because the sight of him scurrying away with the rest of the models made Cruella scoff. "Maybe you weren't as bold as I thought, Frenchy". Cruella held respect on the edge of a knife, and her respect for Jean Pierre was just slightly cut, and just like that one of Cruella's devilish ideas was born. "Well, what's fair is only fair" she said to herself as she stood up and approached the group of now detained protesters. She approached one of the police officers directly, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, Officer" She said loudly over the rush of the crowd escaping the now ruined show
The officer, struggling with the man who had thrown the fake blood onto Jean Pierre, replied to her, out of breath "Oi yes ma'am, what is it?"
"Well, I noticed that these awful people had ruined Monsieur Le Pelt's wonderful show, and you fine men in uniform rushed in to save us from these beast" she said in a polite tone, with an undertone of pouty innocence to it "I would like to extend my sincere gratitude" as she said this, Cruella pulled out a £100 note, and cautiously slid it into the officers front breast pocket. The officer looked at Cruella, "And do make sure that -Inept here gets very special treatment" She said as she patted the detained man on the head rather forcefully, making him wince. The officer nodded understandingly, and with the protester in a double arm bar in one arm, the officer took his club in his free hand and raised it in the air, "Oh c'mon you bum!" the officer shouted as he slammed his baton down on the demonstrators head, making him drop instantly and cry in pain. The officer then kicked the wincing man, as Cruella looked on with a pleasurable smile. As much as she'd like to stand there and watch this man get beaten for what he'd done (or just to hear the sound of a suffering animal), Cruella had a mission, and that mission lie in the direction of the massive screaming Frenchman behind stage.
As she began to walk, Cruella heard her name called behind her. Her stomach sank, but she maintained her composure, she'd faced worse. But right now she wasn't facing anything, she continued to walk like she didn't hear her named called.
"Oh, Miss De Vil!" she heard a young woman's voice call behind her, this time closer. Cruella realized the threat would not go away. It only sounded like one woman, it is better that Cruella face a lone heckler than an entire mob of angry people.
Cruella whipped around, to see standing about 3 feet away the young blonde girl that sat behind her during the show. Cruella was not so focused on the crowd, she tried not to draw attention to herself, so she had not seen much of the girl, until now. She was young, possibly early 20's from the fairness of her light skin, she had a short layered haircut, with the sides shaved down to a much shorter length than the rest, and Cruella could see it was definitely more bleached blonde than natural. She had diamond earrings in each ear, a pair of cat eye sunglasses, a formal black high neck dress, and black fox fur coat. Cruella admired the well dressed look, she could tell it was the attire of someone here on business, not just an onlooker.
Ignoring the fashion breakdown Cruella was quickly doing in her head, she instead hissed at the girl "You must have me confused with someone, girl", and went to keep walking, until the girl spoke again.
"Wait, please! I know it's you Miss De Vil!"
More people were beginning to look in the young girls direction, and Cruella took notice. She grabbed the girl by the arm forcefully and took her aside
"Shut up you idiot! You want to get me thrown in the pokey with those PETA freaks? How did you know who I was, speak clear and speak now!"
"When you sit behind hair like yours for an hour and a half, you are a fool if you don't recognize it", the girl spoke in a heightened received pronunciation, with an underlying bold and confident tone, it reminded Cruella of her own voice.
"So? A lot of people dye their hair like me, I'm an icon, what do you expect?"
"Right, but then I recognized your dress. This design is from your chinese new year collection you presented". Cruella remembered that fashion line, why she was there and what she was doing. It was 1988, the chinese year of the dragon, what more fitting than a blazer suit designed to look like a fiery dragon, with a muff of a traditional chinese dragons head. It was fitting for Cruella, she was a dragon in disguise after all. She looked at the girl with a confused look. Plus, she needed something Jean Pierre would easily recognize, something that conveyed she was here as friend, not foe.
"Alright then, what do you want?"
The girl held out a small business card, on it read an address, a company name, and the girls full name. The girl spoke again
"My name is Chrissy Di Ablo, I am the owner and lead designer of Fur-bidden Fashion Inc."
Cruella had her of the small furrier before, based out of downtown london. Only a small boutique before Cruella was arrested, she wondered what the shop was like now, what all the small shops were like now that the House of De Vil had fallen into a state of disrepair.
"Oh, that little corner store shack on Oxford Street, how quaint" Cruella had said in a smug tone.
"Well, since your time 'away' Miss De Vil, I believe you'll find we have expanded a small bit" Chrissy said without missing a beat.
"Assuming your animal loving goody goody phase is over with, which albeit lasted longer than I thought it would for a fur fashion designer of your expertise, why don't you drop by my little 'shack' sometime? I have a feeling you're here for Monsieur Le Pelt, and if you are, then you're probably here for" Chrissy looked around, like a child checking for adults before stealing from the cookie jar "the S-P-O-T-S"
Cruella's eyes widened, and at this Chrissy smiled
"So stop by, we can discuss it further. Ta-ta darling!" the young blonde turned around and strolled off, heels snapping against the hard floor as she did.
Cruella took it in for a moment, was she found out? Was this young girl going to turn her in? She had good reason to, The House of De Vil was still London's biggest fashion house, so the girl would be knocking off a major competitor, at such a young age also, it would solidify her as a name in fashion. If Chloe Simmon heard about this, Cruella would no doubt be going back to prison.
She held the business card in her hands, on it read the address and number of the fashion house, along with the name, Chrissy Di Ablo. Cruella looked at the card and scowled, crumpling it and stuffing it in her pocket.
A loud bang came from behind her, and she turned to face the source of the noise. She saw Jean-Pierre throwing a metal vase out of his trailer door, screaming at two cowering men who worked together to shut the door. "They are animals! They have no class!" She heard him shout at the two men, slamming and breaking more furniture, fake blood dripping off of his fur with every spasm of anger.
Cruella passed several of the models, still dressed in their outfits, in small groups talking about Jean Pierre's current outrage. Cruella walked up two small steps to the trailer door.
"Well, this is it" Cruella thought. Cruella had not spoken to Jean Pierre in some time, not since they had worked together years ago, except on certain occasions for formal business transactions. She took out a small pocket mirror and checked her makeup, made sure her hair looked good, and adjusted her breast. She reminded herself again, this was just business, she needed someone to help with her plan, she needed a knowledgeable furrier. Despite Cruella reinforcing her idea, she was still nervous. She scoffed at her own cowardness, and pushed the nervous feeling down, to replace it with sultry temptation. She knew Jean Pierre could not resist her, the real question was, could she resist him?
She took off her mask, and knocked on the door. A rush of wind tugged at her back side as the door forcefully swung open. In the door frame, dripping in fake blood and sweat, stood Jean Pierre, red faced and muscles straining. "Go away!" he barked in his grizzly french accent, before again slamming the door.
Cruella stood their for a moment in shock. Was that really it? In all those years, was a visit from her really met with that much blunt negativity. Before her complection could even change, though, Jean Pierre threw the door back open, and stood there.
Their eyes locked, and for a moment Cruella felt young again, she felt safe and warm, she felt like she was on a bed of fur, giggling. She smiled.
"Cruella" Jean Pierre had finally forced out. He stood up straight and stood aside from the doorway, welcoming cruella in "Forgive me, my two idiots did not recognize you!" he said, scolding the two assistants.
She smiled, and stepped up and into the trashed dressing trailer. "Only two minions to abuse? Oh Jean Pierre, the world is so unfair" she turned and gave Jean Pierre a faux empathetic look, looking at him with her seductive eyes.
Jean Pierre was frozen, before looking at his assistants and screaming "Out! Get out!" he shoved them out of his trailer forcefully. After slamming the door, he turned back around to Cruella, trying to fix his hair. Cruella smiled, it was no use, he was a mess, but he was charming enough to where it made her laugh. He walked over, motioning for her to take a seat.
"Cruella De Vil, my inspiration, at my show". Despite the makeup, you could still see Cruella blush. He always used to call her those little kick names, "my idol", "my teacher", "my muse", it reminded her of times past. He started pouring a glass of champagne, and continued
"I didn't know you were coming, I am sorry about the demonstrators" he said, referring to the Protesters.
"Demonstrators? I thought they were critiques."
"Well, they certainly would not be the worst critiques I've ever had"
A knock came from the door, and Jean Pierre stormed over to see who it was. Standing there in all his goofy glory was Alonzo, smiling like he was meeting an old friend for lunch. Cruella had him wait out in the car and told him she would be back in an hour. That was three hours ago.
"Go away!" Jean Pierre shouted, slamming the door in Alonzo's face. This time, unlike with Cruella, he didn't open the door back up and apologize. He had no idea who Alonzo was, or that he was with her.
Cruella didn't correct him though. Her mind was somewhere else, somewhere where all that existed was her, this trailer, and Monsieur Le Pelt. Jean Pierre came back over and sat, glass of champagne in his hand.
"Oh John Pierre, you've come such a long way from poaching weasels" Cruella mocked at him.
"We, my dear old friend, we have come such a long way from poaching weasels"
"Now Jean Pierre, are you implying that I was in the same activities you were as a young man? I merely offered some advice, purely business" Cruella mocked in a flirty way. They both knew that the poaching, stealing, and black market fur deals they did were enough to still put them away for life, and they were both heavily involved.
"Speaking of illegal activities" Jean Pierre added "I am happy to see that you are out of prison" he sounded genuine
"Oh yes, horrible experience prison was, if I had known that when we worked together, I might have acted in better judgement"
Jean Pierre paused "So Cruella, or should I say ella?"
"You most certainly should not! I cringe at that name, that mornic Dr. Pavlov made me look like a" Cruella paused "a vegan!" she said with the utmost disgust
"Alright then, Cruella" Jean Pierre continued "I'm glad to see you are not here to tear my head off, I have seen you on the news. You've lost a lot of credibility in this industry since you've been out of prison, probably more so than getting put into prison itself" he spoke softly to her, like a detective describing a scene to her "but I didn't believe it. 'Ridicule!' I said 'The Cruella I know would never give up fur, it's the only thing she's ever loved!" Jean Pierre stopped, and looked almost sad "It had been almost a decade at that time that we last spoke to each other, actually spoke like we meant something to each other! I began to question if I knew you at all! Which brings me to my next question, why are you here, Cruella?"
Cruella thought to herself "The dalmatian coat, you moron! Tell him about the coat!" but no words escaped Cruella's mouth. She never spoke this personally with people, and especially not to Jean Pierre in the last ten years.
"Jean Pierre, I-" just as she was about to speak, Alonzo burst into the room, holding a wiggling burlap sack.
"Who are you little man?! And what are you doing near Cruella?!" Jean Pierre Approached Alonzo aggressively.
Alonzo was beginning to explain as Cruella got up and stormed towards him.
"Alonzo you idiot, you shouldn't have brought them in here!" She said motioning to the bag, then back handing Alonzo across the chest, making him yelp.
"Oh! He's with you!" Jean Pierre responded, giving Alonzo a playful back hand across the chest , to which he groaned annoyingly.
Just as the confusion started to die down, they all heard a whimper from the bag. Jean Pierre looked down, then up at Cruella. "What is this?" he said
At the sound of the whimpering, Cruella remembered her plan, and he began to see spots again. Suddenly Jean Pierre meant little to her, as the grand image of the dalmatian coat slowly creeped its way again into all corners of Cruella's mind, and the french furrier was about to learn his role in her diabolical plan.
"It's your salvation Jean Pierre! I have a new idea, an idea so revolutionary, I'm surprised any other fool hadn't thought of it sooner!"
"You have an idea in the bag"
"Oh, Jean Pierre!" Cruella leaned back, her voice become more shaky and pleasurable at the thought of the dalmatian coat "Together, you and I will make a coat, so soft, so luxurious, so practical in any weather, so bad! That it i'll rip the veils of the eyes of fashion, and write our names in the pantheon of style!"
Jean Pierre walked back over to Alonzo, signalling the butler to open up the sack. As Jean Pierre looked inside, he could see the distinctive shape, dark little figures moving about, huddled next to each other, fearful and whimpering for their parents.
"Poopies?"
"Ah" Cruella said intriguingly as she clapped, two which Alonzo responded by rushing over to her side "Not just any 'poopies'! Puppies with" Cruella grabbed one of the small dalmatians, and held it in the air in front of Jean Pierre. At once, Cruella and Alonzo of exclaimed in a mesmerised fashion, "Spots!"
Cruella and Jean Pierre locked eyes, and Cruella saw in them a disappointment, almost as if he expected something else. She turned her head to Alonzo "Take them back to the car, and stuff them in the trunk, I do not want these puppies to see the light of day again until we are ready to make the coat, understood?". Alonzo obediently nodded, and left.
Cruella turned back to Jean Pierre "It's grand isn't it? I can honestly say it's my greatest idea yet, and that's saying something" she smiled devilishly and Jean Pierre, who still had that disappointed look on his face, a tiredness in his eyes, and obviously something pressing on his mind.
Cruella frowned "Oh, what is it Jean Pierre." she said, annoyed with his lack of enthusiasm "What could you possibly not love about this idea!" She plumped back down on the couch in a pout, exhausted.
Jean pierre came over and sat next to her, looking into her eyes "I remember the day that we decided not to work together anymore" Cruella, sitting up and looking at him, remembered it all to well, Jean Pierre continued "we made such a great pair, like Bonnie and the Clyded Man!"
"You mean Bonnie and Clyde?"
"Exactly, them! When we said our goodbyes, it broke my heart, truly it did, but as time went on, and we were visited by cops and old colleagues less and less, I knew it was for the better. You were the most successful fur fashion designer at the age of only 28, and still hold that role, despite…" Jean Pierre paused, closing his eyes and almost having to force the following out
"When I saw you, on the television that morning, covered in mud and straw and animal droppings, and heard of what you had been caught doing, I was astounded. I felt like all out years meant nothing, our parting meant nothing!" He was noticeably angry now, standing up and pacing "When we stopped our crimes, I knew you would not be hunted anymore, that we both could live honest lives as fashion designers, like we had both dreamt of. I knew if I got caught with anything illegal after that, it would be only a matter of time before you were caught as well. Going straight nearly killed my business, and I had to claw and bite to keep Monsieur Le Pelt alive! But I did, I went through all the customs of fur trapping and buying, bought the best, highest quality stuff in every legal way I could. I distanced myself from every connection I made as a poacher, and I knew it was the right thing to do!"
He turned and looked back at Cruella, and looked at her for the first ever time with disgust on his face "and what do I hear on the television, what do I hear on the radio and read in the papers? That you had been arrested on animal cruelty charges, that you had personally had hunted down poopies with the intent to skin them and make them into a coat, that you had commissioned poachers to steal the pelts of prized zoo animals, only to decorate your house with them! Tell me Cruella, why in the hell did I struggle to live a straight life, to protect you, only for you to have been destroying your own life all those years!"
Cruella looked at Jean Pierre like a wounded animal, not one she would soon make part of her wardrobe, but one she wanted to nurture back to health, a feeling Cruella could not have imagined feeling, a feeling of compassion, of love. She hated it instantly, and snapped "Jean Pierre, you and I both know how I feel about fur. It is art, it is beauty, it is life! I was ready to suffer in pursuit of my passion, and I paid the price. You wanted to seperate, you wanted to What sort of coward would I be if I simply rolled over and accepted it now? Am I to just let three years of my life be wasted, for and Chloe Simmon to parade Ella around on TV like some fur free buffoon!" She stood up with Jean Pierre, getting in his face "fur is my life, Jean Pierre, I have been seeing spots for years now, and I will have them. And if I see another fur I want, I will have it, I do not care if its on the finest zoo animal in london or the most loyal house dog in the whole world!" She was screaming now, pointing her finger at Jean Pierre's face, stinging him with her conviction. She stood then, hands on hips, waiting to hear a reply
"Ah!" Jean Pierre scowled "It's hopeless! Désespéré!" he chuckled stubbornly "once you set a goal in your head, it is as hard to remove as, well, as a dog from a bone!" he paused calming his tone, then continued "Cruella, when you walked into my trailer today, I did not know what to expect. I hoped you had come to catch up, that maybe time in prison with nothing but your thoughts had made you think of me". It was true, before the treatment started to set in, Cruella had a whole year where she had nothing but her thoughts to keep her company, memories of her old life, and Jean Pierre was a lot of her old life. Once her torture, ash she referred to it as, commenced, she forgot about Jean Pierre, until the bells had snapped her out of her treatment.
Jean pierre continued "But what I expected was for you to come in here on some sort of anti-fur protest! You have been on the television for months now, calling me and your former friends murderers! I welcomed you in, hoping I might be able to talk to you sensibly. Then when you sat down, and started talking, I knew you weren't here to protest. I did not expect this though, not another job!"
"I needed someone with more skill, Jean Pierre, and you are the most skilled I can think of when it comes to this trade!" Cruella tried to reason "I will not go back to House of De Vil, and watch my years go by, dying as the fur queen who was dethroned by a bunch of smelly mutts! Either you help me, or I will be forced to find someone else who will."
Jean Pierre knew there was no convincing her, that if he did not help in pursuit of the dalmatian coat, Cruella would work with some hack that would surely get her arrested again.
With a somber look, the frenchman stared into the englishwoman's eyes
"Okay, a poopy coat it is then"