❅

INTRO
 
WOO
 
i'm so happy it finally gets started!
 
(Watching Edward Scissorhands right now..)
 
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name: Alannah Keets
age: 19
birthday: December 27th
year: sophomore
major: Chemistry
hometown: Cheetham Hill, UK
style: Funky. She gets a lot of influence from the people around her.
biography. Alannah is the resident mad scientist. She is very outgoing and will try anything once. This girl is very lanky and the other dorm girls are jealous because she eats all she wants and never gains weight.
model: Kate Somers
taken by: mcqueen:
extended biography: http://www.polyvore.com/off_with_their_heads/set?id=26559563
 
Hi, my name’s Alannah! I have paper to do so I’m gonna give you a quick introduction:
 
• I share the same birthday with Louis Pasteur. You know? The discoverer of prophylactic inoculation against rabies… *Nods*
• When I graduated, I think I’d choose food & flavor chemistry as my career. Foods + drinks + chemistry = me.
• Despite the fact that I’m a Chemistry student, I personally can’t stand Chemistry teachers and the professors. You know why? They tend to make this ‘Scientist’ expression, if you know what I mean, to intimidate you and to convince you that they know much more than you do. Why do smart people always do that? I don’t know. I’m not smart; I only practice a lot. So don’t expect me to mime their expression right here…
• I have made my own beer (made from fermented grapes, malt, water, hops and yeast) for 2,5 years and I do my own simple distillation. I’m thinking to start making my own gin and scotch, but it’ll take some time to figure it out. For some reason, I’m interested in liquors.
• Not like all the other chem. students—who intend to not care about “outer” appearance, I have an infatuation over fashion. I got Dazed & Confused, V, W, and any other alphabets-magazine you can imagine, stacked beneath Chemistry World, Science Daily, my measurements research and files filled with my calculations.
• If you want love potion or anything like that—you can always call me.
• And in case you don’t know, I’m slightly mad.

--The Red Queen
 
HI DEAREST POLYPALS. How are you? Teehee. I love holidays. I'm sad it's going to be over in no time, though.
 
(When I get back to school I'm sure I'll still write 2010 on the paper. I usually get mixed up.)
 
Oh. This is shameless but follow follow follow my Tumblr!
 
http://ribbonsonlisbons.tumblr.com/
 
Yesterday I watched Alice in Wonderland. I know they changed the plot so much, but I like the Red Queen. I think she's the best. I love this part: http://ribbonsonlisbons.tumblr.com/post/2525687463. If you've watched the movie you probably remember the way she said "Her name is Um, idiot!" Oh my God. I rewinded that part 10203874647 x.
 
I'm sorry, rambling. It's Polyvore's most common syndrome for being an ever-lasting member.
 
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TRYOUT FORRRRRRRR
 
STREETS OF SEATTLE
 

[Ara, HELP. Alannah’s hometown isn’t listed in her bio. Please tell me where does she come from.]
 
Name: Alannah Keets
Age: 19
Birthday: December 27th
Major: Chemistry
Hometown:
style: Funky. She gets a lot of influence from the people around her.
Biography. Alannah is the resident mad scientist. She is very outgoing and will try anything once. This girl is very lanky and the other dorm girls are jealous because she eats all she wants and never gains weight.
Model: Kate Somers
taken by: OPEN
 

Application:
[Answer in detail. The more information the better.]
Answer these questions in character-
▶Tell us about you.
 
Hullo, my belles. My name’s Alannah Keets. It’s –eets; not –eats on keats, but –eets on meets, if that makes sense. The mod didn’t list my year in my bio like she did to everyone else’s, but I guess you can simply figure out that I’m a sophomore? Yeah. A sophomore at Washington University, to be exact. I suppose a bajillion girls have said the same thing for like, a week? I don’t know. So forget that. I can’t stand conventional way of introducing selves, but darling, it’s 21st Century, so everybody has to get straight to the point in order to be known. Anyhow, since I’m the lankiest girl in campus, and with these clanky, chunky heels, jingling jewelries, flaming red hair, and gleaming chrome-diopside-like (do you even know what is CHROME DIOPSIDE? I can’t believe I’m bringing the Chem. up.) eyes, it’s hard to disguise myself in the midst of the crowd.
I dyed my hair black awhile ago, but people keep telling me they recall me as “The Red-Haired Girl Who Dyed Her Hair Black” and they literally used to call me that way for a semester. Which is a Disaster. (Disaster with a capital and bolded D.)
However, I take Chemistry as a major. If you see me for the very first time, you might think I’m a Communication student or hm… a Political Science baby. But hey! You won’t guess it’d rain if the sky were bright, right? Nah. (I’m kind of sick with the phrase “Don’t judge a book by its cover” so I make a new, horrid one. I wish you literature chicks won’t mind.) I actually loved Art, but I’m obviously the worst at it. I mean, come on, I got D for it in my elementary school and the teacher suggested me to swap my class. Aha, cool story bro. I can tell you Art was a jerky yet hauntingly beautiful boyfriend who tore my heart apart. Fortunately, the knight in shiny armor, let’s name it Chemistry, came to rescue me awhile back later. It gives me every reason to hope that every problem has a solution… Oh. I H-E-A-R-T CHEMISTRY.
 
▶How do you see yourself and how do others see you?
 
I’m a starfruit. I have five edges and sometimes it may not seem symmetrical, nevertheless when you taste me, I promise you’ll always find the same flavor.
Anyhow, there are some quotable letters from my old folders. I think these can answer the second question so here you go:
Alannah Keets’ Psychology Report by Howard Wolffe: She’s a humble girl with a sharp mind. She always interested in people’s imperfections and science. It’s better to get her more activities to do. I think if she evaluates herself more and lets herself wander sometimes, she could make something big in the future.
Queenie Holland’s letter from Ibiza, twelve years ago: …You know, you are a tad bit witty.
A letter from my stepfather to my mother, seven years ago: To me, she sounds a bit impolite.
Leif Lovelock, boyfriend, in school’s yearbook: She’s eats too much fruits.

▶What is your history? Tell us about life growing up.
 
You really want to know about it? All right… My father died when I was six and his COD (cause of death) remains unknown. He was a good lad, though. He stayed at home a lot, but he kept telling me he ran a huge business out there. Which I believe was true. (Apparently I finally figured out that my father ran this toilet paper industry. TOILET PAPER, seriously.) A year later, my mother, a beautician, re-married my father’s client, and I officially changed my last name by then. Mr. Keets is a nice man; we’re actually close. I was still a kid when my father died, so when someone got into my family at that age, I didn’t bother. Anyhow, Mr. Keets is simply Mr. Keets. I never heard anyone calls him with his first name. My mother herself calls him ‘K’, which is a short of Keets. That’s ridiculous, I know right? Probably his first name is humiliating, like Kapowickhia or Kvabonejowski or… Kinkywrecker. Oh, let’s forget about my silly stepfather name. I grew up with lemons, grapes, books about J.J. Thompson, Marie Curie and Ernest Rutherford and those people who made history, telescope, and my basement laboratory. My friends were the ones who wore these thick, aquarium-like glasses, and got slick, lardy hair, and our favorite joke was:
“If it ain’t tubes, we don’t do it.”
And our all time funny story was:
‘Two sodium atoms were walking along the street when one stops and says, "Oh my goodness, I think I've lost an electron!” "Are you sure?" asks his companion. "Yes," replies the first sodium atom. "I'm positive.”’
Nah, you get it, don’t you? If you don’t, no worries; I’m cool with it. We drank Chembeer (our made-up beer) from empty perfume bottles and occasionally snuck inside the lab at night. However, when I reside in this campus, I tend to hang with everyone.

▶What are your likes, dislikes, favorite bands, hobbies, etc?
 
I adore fruits. Obviously. When I first moved in to my dorm, my roomie awfully shocked when she saw me unpacking steel, cold suitcase with packaged fruits inside of it. I mean, loads of them. I always eat them all the time. I don’t know. They’re like, the most delicious thing in the world. I mean, nature made it. Or God. So it tastes godly amazing. I love it when I chew it in my mouth and the yummie vitamins flushed in my mouth and… Well. It’s hard to resist such thing. I also like doughnuts. And candy floss. Chocolates are nice too, but I’m not a big fan of them. My favorite music is Turk. You don’t know that? Well… beside of that, I enjoy chamber music. I really like failures too. I mean, if I did it wrong, then I know I will soon discover some way to get it right. I dislike… politics. Hm. And I can’t stand celebrities. Should I add more? Oh, I avoid watching TV. I assume it’s unhealthy. But hey, I watch movies, though. When I get really strained out, I watch comedies. My crappy hobbies including visiting The Cheesecake Factory, believing in my Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast, and lounging in the Chemistry Library, I think. Yeah. I’m not original, I know.

▶Finally, If there was a quote to describe you, what would it be?
 
“The name is Bond. Covalent Bond. Sharing, not taking.”

Answer these questions out of character-
 
▶Why do you want to be apart of this roleplay?
 
I’m sick of roleplays that promised to be serious in writing but you know what – as you got your ass on it and you used your time to write long shitty story that apparently came from your mind and heart and inspirations and then – TA-DAH – none commented. Or, when they did, they just commented on your outfits or irrelevant with something I expected them to read. Well. I was in those roleplays, and I always like… Is it just like that? Anyways, I ain’t hopeless and I wish this roleplay could be different. I know I don’t always write, but I promise in this one I’ll do my best. The characters are so fun to read and I can’t wait to play along with them!

▶What other roleplays are you in and do you think you will be able to make at least one set a week (preferably more)?
 
I am in Big Apple Interns, La Cruise de Votre Vie, and Blair Woods. And I will.
 
▶List your top three choices.
 
1. Alannah Keets (the model would be Kate Somers)
2. Cece Delgado (the model would be Nimue Smit)
3. Jacquelyn Cohen (the model would be Jac Jagaciak)

▶Do you have some sort of storyline planned for your character?
The opposite of no. ☺

CDVV
 
story come soon. wanna hang? :)

CDLC
 
SORRY IT'S LATE
 
AHHH MY BIRTHDAY IS TOMORROW SO EXCITED!
 

Tuesday, November 16 2010
La Cruise De Votre Vie
 
[I wrote my Monday story but it’s unexpectedly gone ☹ So yeah... I think I’ll go by the summary. HaiLou went to the party and she accidentally spilled her martini on Someone’s suit. – She met the girls here, so let’s say she has recognised every one of you ☺]
 
Last night’s memories are still lingering in my mind. Sometimes, when I daydream in the middle of sipping my coffee or writing something inspirational in my notebook, I always think of him. How could I spill my martini onto his splendid Armani suit? I like to giggle myself when thinking about the incident. However, shortly after thinking about it, I immediately rush to stop those girlish giggles and curse on myself for being so easily fooled by the charm of a stranger in this cruise. I mean, of course, not even a single man here fits my type!

The sun shines brightly outside the ship. The glowing light falls on my coffee cup, leaving a shiny trail on its edges. I look up into the cloudless blue sky. I can hear people talking in crowd, laughter at several places, and vague music plays in other parts. It seems today is quite lovely to spend outdoors. (At that time, as usual, I isolate myself in Starbucks.) So, after paying my coffee, I stroll down the stairs to the ground floor and get out onto the deck to watch the people crowding together, like having a party.
 
The girls on this cruise, who on average are shy, are chatting politely, closed and slowly, trying to familiarise themselves. They wear see-through T-shirts that show their elegant curves, and shorts or swimming trunks under the tops. (I, who wear pants and vivid coloured shirt, am trying hard not to feel intimidated.) I join the group - who already are familiar with me, props to the party last night - then smile and greet them.
Suddenly, Nadia pulls my arm out of the group and takes me to the end of the deck – that directly adjacent to the clear and calm Pacific Ocean.
 
'Where did you go last night?’ Nadia asks impatiently, her expression describing a curiosity that needs to be satisfied. Of course she noticed that after the martini incident I did not go back to the party.
 
'I tagged along him to laundry his suit,' I admit.
 
‘Laundry? That night? Gosh, you guys were very naive. How many did the suit cost, until he should immediately wash it off?’ demands Nadia again.
 
'I have no idea. Even so, I still felt guilty, you know. I accompanied him and we walk on the deck until before the party ended, and I followed him into his room to see his paintings. Those paintings are magnificent, with unique colours combined and dynamic balance of design.’
 
'So, Hail-bugs, who's this guy’s name?’
 
'The name? To be honest, I don’t know, Nads,' I grin hopelessly.
 
'You didn’t ask his name?’ she seems surprised. 'And did HE ask yours?’
 
'I told him my name, to be exact. Just in case someday he would need me or anything.’
 
'You really ... ‘ she doesn’t continue her words. She clenches her fists, like so exasperated with my behaviour, but she finally let it go and sighs. 'Well. Never mind. It's better if you know his name, Hails. I'm sure you'll need a man or two someday.’
 
'I'll keep it in mind, Nads,' I say eagerly.
 
From there, she waves at me, tells me that she should see someone. We part there; Nadia meets her friend, and I return to the group that gathers around the swimming pool. The girls who had been standing and talking are now sitting in the edge of the pool; dipping their soft and pearl-like feet into the water; sunbathing with sun block scent wafts from their skin; and chat slowly.
 
I take my pants off (I have worn a lovely swimming trunks with lace and a beautiful floral pattern behind my pants!), squat and then join those who are dipping their feet into the water. There is Moira, Layla, Kitty, Rae and Aria. They smile at me sweetly as I immerse my feet into the water. The cold water in the pool stings; its low chemical bonding tickles fine hairs on my bare legs; and the whole of this sensation sends chill that refreshing for me.
 
We talk about Hawaii (Aria hears that the next stop is Hawaii, which immediately makes the girls who are sunbathing - Jess, and even Jami who’s reading a book jump from their seats and enthusiastic), and then the topic slowly moves to last night party. This topic, I guess, sooner or later, will spread to the other one that could be guessed.
 
Yeah, right.
 
A moment later, Layla whispers, lowering her voice, 'Hails, is the guy who yesterday went out of the room with you single? You see, he really has a look.’
 
Rae responds, her right hand rocks her camera, 'Well, I guess all the guys here will admit they are single when being asked like that. But, well, what's wrong with it?’ Having said that, she immediately takes the picture of my half-dreaming face; my mouth slightly opens; my eyes are widened, and my nose doesn’t look symmetrical. I'm really not a good virtual object viewed in the camera at that time. The rest of the girls laugh and I smile shyly.
 
'Well. I agree with you,’ Moira replies, nodding seriously.
 
'You should really keep an eye on him!’ Kitty goes along, make a big grin on her darling face.
 
'I'm sure I've heard of him somewhere,' Aria finally concludes. From all the girls there, I think she’s the one who knows the most about juicy gossips. 'And I’ve seen his face one day, you know. I mean it.’
 
'Could it be on Google?’ I ask, getting a creepy idea to seek the history of that mystery guy - if I already know his name later – I’ll search for him on Google. (My goodness, my intentions are very, very disgusting.)
 
'I think in the newspaper. Or yeah, perhaps on Google, 'Aria rolls her eyes. '… Whatever. It’s something like that. From his accent, I suppose he’s a European. Maybe Finnish or something.’
 
‘Does the person you guys are you talking about like to paint?’ Jess questions, removing her glossy Gucci glasses.
 
'He does!' I exclaim cheerfully. 'Yesterday I stayed in his suite and I can tell you there are a thousand glorious paintings. The colours are so impressive; there are blends of marigold and magenta, pink and salmon, Turkish yellow and Swedish brown, ivory and broken white! There are pictures I can understand, like about destruction and depression, the feelings of loneliness and abandoned. But there are some that so hard to figure out, like The Black Wall. I'm serious. It's just a canvas coated in black; there’s no other colour. It's a sad yet mysterious... but at the same time it makes you curious. He is ... really artistic.’
 
'He should be an artist, then' Jami simplifies.
 
'Well,' Jess murmurs, 'Hails, you must have found this guy. Because he’s there at the end of the deck now, sitting behind his canvas. Maybe he’s painting the ocean or something.’
 
All of our heads turn to the end of the deck, and we spot him there. Sitting alone, concentrating in painting. He plunges his dirty brush onto his palette, which is already sullied with nameless colours, and paints it on the canvas, drawing the horizon with the tip of his brush. He's like a creature that can’t be disturbed, strong-willed, and untouched.
 
He has certainly succeeded enchants me with his aura.
 
Wednesday, November 17 2010
La Cruise De Votre Vie
 
One. Two. Three.
 
I inhale a deep breath, filling the cavities of my lungs with oxygen, then immediately sink my face into the water to begin snorkelling. I've done this before. I think in Lombok or somewhere, I don’t remember for sure. I've always liked this activity; because this is the only way you can observe marine life quietly and peacefully without need to bother thinking about your oxygen tube or cramps on your feet.
 
When I open my eyes in the water, the first scene that I gaze on is the coral reef. See those underwater plants! They are like rainbow ink submerges in water. What a wonderful sea is this! The corals line irregularly, but there are something in them, which makes them look dynamic, synergistic, and complementary. On the sidelines of their holes and in the suburbs where they stand, grown green algae, waving to follow the movements of the ocean like a curtain flows in summer breeze from the South.
 
I also see beautiful fish, with orange stripes and yellow like afternoon sun, black and white spots, large and dark eyes and are located on both sides of their heads, and their entourage who swims in graceful formation.
 
Awhile later, I finally raise my head from the water after watching the tiny pink jellyfish build-up beneath the sand-coloured coral.
 
I shake my wet hair, pull away some of them which fall into the front of my face, and then laugh when I see the head of the other girls appear and sink from the sea.
 
I turn my head to the beach. I wav back to Isay; she’s drinking a pineapple juice from its fruit by using a bright-coloured straw at the moment; and smile when I recognise a guy who’s lately I noticed is sunbathing and reading a book under the humid Hawaiian sunshine.
 
I decide it is better if I start it first. I move from the water, and then walk towards the beach until finally manage to come up to him.
 
'Hi!' I greet him, hoping he recognises me.
 
He doesn’t immediately stop reading. I can see his sapphires-like eyes are still moving, reading the line in the book. However, a second later, his extremely irresistible eyes stopped moving, rolling up and see me looking at him, smiling.
 
'Hi,' I repeat again.
 
'Oh. It’s you,' he says shortly. There’s something inside him, a cold spell that makes the hairs on my whole body shiver. He is the type that you hated in high school times but secretly you loved behind. 'Loudermilk, right?’
 
Wow, he recognises me! I feel like dancing...
 
'Yeah,' I answer. ‘What are you reading? And why don’t you just dive into the water? I wonder if you want to swim with the dolphins like the others. It’ll be fun!’
 
'No,' he said. 'I think I better stay here. I want to make sure my skin colour changes a bit before we get out of Hawaii this weekend.’
 
'Well, I guess you do not have the talent to be tan, Sir. Let's just dive into the sea.’
 
'I'm not interested,' he snaps eagerly, his body lays in another direction. 'Swimming with the dolphins ... That’s ridiculous.’
 
'What? It's not ridiculous! It’s a pleasure! It’d be good for your inspirations, you know. I know you're an artist. Aren’t you craving for ideas, innovation and inspiration? Your brain and your heart need a revival. Come on. Why don’t we just snorkel?’
 
'Nothing can be seen in Hawaii,' he moans.
 
'Don’t you want to see the corals and rainbow coloured sea algae that dancing? How about those hordes of fish and sea animals – which make up the formation and swimming splendidly under the veil of the ocean? Are you absolutely sure don’t want to see all that and capture it later, when you're back to the boat and dealing with the canvas and your palette?’
 
There’s a pause.
 
I hear him turns around to see me. He stares towards me – his gaze freezes me with magic contained by his precious eyes. He melts my legs, flexes my fingers, and absorbs out my misery. Oh, those eyes to kill for! He seems confused and stunned, amazed and shocked in once.
Fascinated for a few minutes, his eyes are moving steadily, observing my face, searching for clues.
 
'Is – is it really beautiful as that?' He asks me in hesitant.
 
'Well. It depends on how you see it,' I apprise. 'If you appreciate the beauty of nature, I’m sure you'll see it the way I do. You have to take in the beauty, meaning its glory, and feel it. Just - desperately – feel – it.’
 
He’s wordless. He glares at the book in his hands, his wannabe-tan skin, and me. Afterwards, he gazes at clear blue sky, and the ocean beyond. He considers his choices for a moment, pondering all this, then finally announces: ‘You know… I guess I’ll give it a try.’
 
'Do you want me to go with you?’ I offer myself, smiling lively.
 
‘It’d be great, Lou,' he answers with, returning my smile with a delightful one. (Lou? Does he think Loudermilk is my first name? Well, whatever. I’ll be glad if he calls me with anything.) ‘Halvard is the name, anyway. I hope you don’t forget it.’
 
'All right then!' I declare enthusiastically, standing up from where I bend over him, and precede him into the sea. He's trailing behind me – I mean, Halvard – with his big steps. In my heart, I bounce happily, shouting, 'Of course I will never forget his name!’
 
We continue walking with the wind rustles on our damp skin, facing the sun, toward the ocean.

☆ Hailie Loudermilk
Birthday + Country: Hermopolis Magna, Egypt / November 20th 1989.
This girl knows something about the world. She has traveled and visited more than twelve countries and stayed in 3 different countries for years. She also is a dexterous writer. She has her own way in story telling, and every time she talks with someone - especially when trying to describe something - she often seems to describe the circumstances around her with imaginative details, bewitching the people around her with her fantasy. When you look at her in the crowd, you'll feel like you want to see her a little longer because there is something unusual in her, something interesting. But nobody ever really knows what. She wants to join the cruise because she wants to separate herself from the people around her who can’t understand the art of writing and intends to seek for inspiration, strong souls, adventure and new kinds of story around the world. Like most writers, Hailie is slightly uncommunicative and fond of watches intently the surrounding circumstances, writes in her notebook, and sometimes, she only talks to discuss things she considers important.
Model: Tatiana Cotliar
Taken by: Loudermilk:
 
Hello, my name's HaiLoudermilk. I like colouring of my life with greenish forest, blue-ish ocean, and a mixture of dark violet and black of cliffs on the beach. Sometimes, if I feel bored, I just colour my life with a little black ink from my pen onto the white paper and simply add dark brown hot chocolate to fulfill my life. I often take a red colouring pencil from box and make up stories about a blue romanticism in the nineteenth century. Sometimes I go out to listen to colourless tunes from the Concert Hall and you will always find me at The Coffee Centre, colouring my life with summer rainbow tinge and reddish yellow autumn foliage.
 
However, there are times when I don't know what to say anymore and can only take the black color of the pencil box my colors to paint my day.
 
Introduce yourself, ladies, who knows we might have the same colours! xx

Inspiration from my playlist Tableu Vivant, fleet foxes and eating flowers.
 
☆ Hailie Loudermilk
Birthday + Country: Hermopolis Magna, Egypt / November 20th 1989.
This girl knows something about the world. She has traveled and visited more than twelve countries and stayed in 3 different countries for years. She also is a dexterous writer. She has her own way in story telling, and every time she talks with someone - especially when trying to describe something - she often seems to describe the circumstances around her with imaginative details, bewitching the people around her with her fantasy. When you look at her in the crowd, you'll feel like you want to see her a little longer because there is something unusual in her, something interesting. But nobody ever really knows what. She wants to join the cruise because she wants to separate herself from the people around her who can’t understand the art of writing and intends to seek for inspiration, strong souls, adventure and new kinds of story around the world. Like most writers, Hailie is slightly uncommunicative and fond of watches intently the surrounding circumstances, writes in her notebook, and sometimes, she only talks to discuss things she considers important.
Model: Karlie Kloss
Taken by: Loudermilk:

Top 3 Models:
1. K. Kloss
2. T. Cotliar
3. T. Alexandersson

I pull my suitcase along the dock that morning, looking for a beautiful ship which name I don’t intend to remember. Yesterday, Nadia sent me a picture of it and told me to come this morning and find the ship at the pier. The people who mile about, greet their families and embrace their lovers, are blocking my view. I have to constantly say, "Excuse me", to every corner so that they would give me a way, or simply step aside.
 
The sound of my suitcase’s wheels that collided with the pier panels made me think that this may be my last steps on the mainland at some point. I break off for a moment; take my cell phone and type a short message to my mother (‘I'll miss you’). Then, after see the report that the message has been sent, I walk away with relief.

Finally, I get on to the cruise. It is white like a bride evening gown sprinkled with diamonds and lace. On the front there is a beautiful garden of berry bushes, flowerbeds of primroses and sweetbriars, as well as exotic trees such a tiny palms that gracefully curved in every corner, like the pillars that keep the garden standing still.
 
In the back, I can see girls who follow this cruise also took part. They laugh and mingle; pop music blares behind them added to enliven the atmosphere.
 
I drag my suitcase over there.
 
This will be a long and fun journey.

Parker Lafayette; 23
Blog: Fashion Not Flowers
Parker is the transplant from Quebec. She hopped the border for reasons unbeknownst to us and began to make a living in New York City. And damn, she has worked for her living. Working in fast food chains, bars, and retail shops she quickly became accustomed to the NYC way of life and can blog about it from an outsiders standpoint. She truly is talented and is giving the other girls a run for their money.
Model: Abbey Lee Kershaw
OPEN
 
TOP 4
1. PARKER
2. COCO
3. CHARLETTE
4. ANNY
 
Monotone voice that reads the weather forecast on the TV is blaring. Several times, the cashier who feels bored is pressing the coffee machine to fill the empty cups and placed them in the corner. There are now eight full cups of cappuccino there, but nobody in the shop even interested to take it.
 
A girl sits quietly in front of her MacBook at the side of the window. She opens http://fashionotflowers.com, which is a blog owned by Parker Lafayette. This girl is at the middle of organizing the photos she got from her meeting with Marc Jacobs yesterday at an antique store in The Village and is trying to write a new post.
 
"Parker?" The cashier calls loudly, finally aware that her action to fill the cups of coffee is idiotic. "Do you want to go home now?"
 
"No," Parker replies curtly.
 
"Why? What are you doing?” The cashier asks again, really has no interest other than disrupt Parker’s activities.
 
Parker only mumbles vaguely and continues her work. She rolls her beautiful eyes, then returns to tap her pretty fingers on the keyboard.
The cashier, whose name is Clarissa, pushes the door out from behind the counter and walks toward Parker in a hurry. She stands behind Parker's shoulder, watching her sorting out the photos.
 
"Hah! You’ve got a blog."
 
"Yeah."
 
"Is this some kind of a cheap blog that I often see whenever I’m too lazy to do anything on Sunday morning?"
 
Parker stops typing. Impatiently, she says, "Clarissa, this is not a cheap blog. It talks about fashion and my jobs in New York. And everyone reads it."
 
"Everyone?" Clarissa doubts.
 
Without saying a word, Parker aside for Clarissa to explore her blog. Clarissa takes over her MacBook, watching the beautiful blog header, which is a simply elegant, that reads "Fashion Not Flowers". She scrolls the mouse down, reads the posts, filled with Parker's beautiful photographs of famous people along with Parker and series of photographs of New York City, quickly, sees hundreds of comments in the "comments section" and the links to other blogs listed on the left of her blog. Parker’s blogs has magical power that could ensnare anyone who reads it to fall in love and unables to move slightly longer.
 
And Parker's writing ... Clarissa does not know how to describe it. It’s elegant, rich and full of spirit that never subsided.
 
Clarissa glances at Parker, who stares back at her with a smile. Clarissa is really wrong. Parker’s blog is clearly not the cheap type she frequently visits if she’s too lazy to do anything on Sunday morning.

t-t-try out for Blair Woods (I may make another one w/ different character, but I'm not sure.)
 
BIO
 
Cream Fluture
Always one of old glamour, Cream always has on a layer of red lipstick and heels on her pedicured feet. Originally from London, she started going to Blair Woods when she was fourteen, and is friendly with almost everyone. While she loves it here, she's always dreaming of something more, like a duke to sweep her off her feet and into the sunset. During long classes she often lets out exasperated sighs and gets annoyed with things she can't understand. To blow off steam, she goes out almost every night, not exactly hard partying, but maybe she'll have a smoke while reading classics in the library. She doesn't really care much about the rules, and when teachers question her she just sort of waves them away, always looking into the future and not the present. She's the number one fashion source at Blair Woods, and last year when McQueen passes away she cried in her room for over a week. Will she learn to focus a bit more on reality, or just float on in her bubble of couture?
Model: Jessica Stam
 
TOP FOUR
 
1. Cream
2. VLADISAVA
3. GEORGIA
4. MERCURY
 
STORY
 

The night is cold and silent. The party is over, the lights are already turned off, and luxurious dressed couples have gone into The Maze behind the castle. Corridors with tapestries along the castle is deserted, as if each and every life that have been dwelled there absorb out, like the sound that muffled by the thick fabrics and cushion sofa in every room at Blair Woods. At the end of the hall on the third floor, a small, dusky light flickering behind the tiny window that juts out.
 
A cream-haired girl is smoking an expensive cigarette and reading one of Edgar Allan Poe's volumes in it.
 
Her followers have been dissipated, sleeping under their chunky duvets and are protected behind their bedroom walls that are covered with floral painted, marble wallpaper. Her boring date asked her to go to The Maze after the party, but she refused and told him that she needs to sleep well to maintain her beauty.
 
Which, basically, was a lie.
 
The books seemed to whisper to her. There is something about words that could ensnare her mind and make her awake until early morning. It’s nearly alike to her curiosity towards fashion. Besides her infatuation with extravagant clothes, satin shoes and sumptuous clutches, these books are her favourites. And, the library is pretty much her most-liked place in Blair Woods.
 
The murkier fire crackles softly in the marble fireplace in the corner. She breathes through the end of her cigarette; the intense smoke draws in her chest; and it relaxes her nerves. Line by line on the poem she has read loosens her up. It convinces her that there are many others in this world who also feel shackled, as she is.
 
When she’s reading the lines about the vines that surround the tumbledown and silent castles in England, the sound of footsteps in the corridor interrupts her concentration. ‘There is someone coming,’ she thinks. ‘I better watch out for it.’
 
She stops reading and starts to sharpen her hearing.
 
Those steps are soft-sounded. As if the person’s walking with dragging her paces above the dark mats. According to Cream’s analysis, that person must have been wearing furry slippers at the moment. And maybe she wears a lacy sleep gown. When the footsteps stopped sounding, the library door’s knob revolves. Cream stares at the door as the person behind the door makes the three-foot-tall door opens slowly with a familiar creak.
 
The person who is behind that door – she’s a girl! – Peeks in surprise when she realises that Cream is paying attention.
 
It’s Fleur.
 
‘Oh,’ Cream murmurs softly.
 
‘Hello,’ says Fleur, cautiously.
 
Cream doesn’t return her salutation, but she smiles briefly, very faintly, to the extent Fleur doesn’t notice that Cream is smiling at her.
 
‘I wish I'm not disturbing you,’ Fleur politely utters.
 
‘Of course you don’t, dear,’ she replies soothingly.
 
Fleur walks past books shelves, running her fingertips on every cover of the book in its path like playing a music, stops at one of the shelves and picks up a book written by one of the Greek philosopher who were not important and forgotten by time. She dawdles to a table across Fleur and finally sits in front of her.
 
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Fleur tells her. ‘So I come here to see if I could kill the time.’
 
‘You didn’t go to the party?’ asks Cream, watching Fleur’s face and gown. Clearly, Cream tells herself, this girl didn’t go to the party a few hours ago. She might only play cards with her friends at The Conservatory.
 
‘No,’ Fleur shakes her head. ‘And you…?’

Actually, Fleur already knows for sure that Cream had gone to the party. She’s almost always there, every day and every night.
 
‘As a Londonette, it’s my pleasure to cherish The Ball,’ she smiles.
 
‘A Londonette?’
 
‘A Londonette,’ she repeats, emphasising her pronunciation.
 
How beautiful it is, thinks Fleur while watching Cream quietly from the corner of her doe eyes, to live a dreamy life. She’s tremendously gorgeous; she goes to balls and parties; and she's an English. She’s a Londonette too! – Oh, whatever that means.
 
Cream chortles and starts reading her book all over again.
 
Life is a dream within a dream, Edgar Allan Poe wrote once.
 
He’s right. Life is a real dream.
 
Cream must admits to herself that she’s living the flawless one.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NADIA.
 
I still remember the first time I talked to you. I was still a DrunkieDolly, and something happened to you. (There was a girl sending you a mean mail.) I didn't know precisely what happened, but I was kind of standing for you with Eva and the rest of the gang. And then... I joined RFA and we got to know each other better and better. We chatted a lot - I wish I could get back in time when I still had much time for that! - and we had tons of fun. We get through so many things together, sad or happy, bitter or sweet. Even though you are younger than me, I feel like you are a friend to die for. Plus, you are one of a kind. Like, I've never met anyone like you before.
 
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday to you :)
 
So if you notice, this is not a fashion set. It's an interior one. I think it's sort of a place where you could have your babies with your lover (read: Leonardo) and making your future toast and sandwiches and read books and talking to your friends and watching gossip girls...
 
Teehee.
 
Hope you like it!
 
Love,
 
yours truly hailsters ♥