kitewithfish (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kitewithfish) wrote2008-07-06 10:48 pm
kitewithfish) wrote2008-07-06 10:48 pm
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Day 13: fashion
Day 13
“Low gravity,” Letitiana proclaimed, “has changed only two things in fashion: fake tits and beehive hairdo's.”
The table laughed uproariously as the tipsy fashionistas toasted themselves once more. They were well into the fourth bottle of champagne by now, and the Earth-born members were beginning to forget their strength in the lunar gravity. Letty grinned at them before she continued. The audience, captivated, sleek and well-fed, was lapping from the palm of her hand, and she was determined to bask in the pack’s approval as long as she could.
“No, truly! Remember the fad in Fall 2098 for the self-supporting gyro-tits? The ones built from recycled Segway parts?” Most of the table grinned, with only perhaps two or three lapsing into outright hysterical giggles as they recalled the extremes to which the trend was taken on the New York runway. At least one pair of breasts had malfunctioned and smacked a model in the face before making their antigravity getaway like a pair of lost balloons.
“One had to make an investment of at least half a million €¥RO just to make sure that the models didn’t all rush to get them done at one of those back alley wire-runner stations and end up with a set of laser cannons instead. So much cheaper this way- let nature do her work and then just bring the girls up sky-side and bid Nature a fond farewell!” Letty gestured with her still-full shot glass for emphasis. She was flushed from the heat and noise but not from drink, so even across the room she immediately spotted a curious piece of couture.
One of the models from a competitors show, a wirey thing with a conservatively colored Mohawk plaited sedately down to the waist, looked delicious in a suit jacket and kilt ensemble that she (or he, Letty was honestly not sure) had clearly snitched from Letitiana’s personal collection. Since Letty hired all her models personally, this was clearly a message or a very clumsy theft. Letitiana pantomimed a trip that let her dive graceful in low grav to sink into her neighbor’s lap.
“George” she hissed, “whose show was That One in?”
“Letty, you are melting the ice crystals in my waistcoat!”
“George, those are plastic shards that you hot-glued to your jacket because you didn’t have the money to get your personal coolant system replaced this month- you blew it all on vintage muslin, I was there when you got the bill. Now, you silly synthoid, tell me who that is!”
George grimaced and then swiveled his free-floating eye array towards the model.
“Huh. S/he was in Dolce & Gabbana & Clones Retrospective Show- the Androgen Collection. Isn’t that jacket one of your? S/he carries it off much better than that ginger tart you assigned.”
Letty squirmed out George’s lap and slunk behind his chair, to the amusement of those at the table who were still sober enough to notice she was no longer toasting. She emerged from behind the chairs coif first, but still managed to take the model by surprise as s/he walked by. She sprung out and spread her arms for a giant hug before air kissing both cheeks at dizzying speed. Suitably bamboozled, the model stopped and then blushed like mad. There was no escape, and s/he knew s/he was caught.
“Now, then, darling,” she linked armed with him/her as s/he tried to walk around her. “ You must tell me where you got this fabulous coat!” Letty smiled, slowly revealing a set of chrome dentures, spiked like a shark’s happy dream. “Or I just might have to beat it out of you.” She cooed.
“Low gravity,” Letitiana proclaimed, “has changed only two things in fashion: fake tits and beehive hairdo's.”
The table laughed uproariously as the tipsy fashionistas toasted themselves once more. They were well into the fourth bottle of champagne by now, and the Earth-born members were beginning to forget their strength in the lunar gravity. Letty grinned at them before she continued. The audience, captivated, sleek and well-fed, was lapping from the palm of her hand, and she was determined to bask in the pack’s approval as long as she could.
“No, truly! Remember the fad in Fall 2098 for the self-supporting gyro-tits? The ones built from recycled Segway parts?” Most of the table grinned, with only perhaps two or three lapsing into outright hysterical giggles as they recalled the extremes to which the trend was taken on the New York runway. At least one pair of breasts had malfunctioned and smacked a model in the face before making their antigravity getaway like a pair of lost balloons.
“One had to make an investment of at least half a million €¥RO just to make sure that the models didn’t all rush to get them done at one of those back alley wire-runner stations and end up with a set of laser cannons instead. So much cheaper this way- let nature do her work and then just bring the girls up sky-side and bid Nature a fond farewell!” Letty gestured with her still-full shot glass for emphasis. She was flushed from the heat and noise but not from drink, so even across the room she immediately spotted a curious piece of couture.
One of the models from a competitors show, a wirey thing with a conservatively colored Mohawk plaited sedately down to the waist, looked delicious in a suit jacket and kilt ensemble that she (or he, Letty was honestly not sure) had clearly snitched from Letitiana’s personal collection. Since Letty hired all her models personally, this was clearly a message or a very clumsy theft. Letitiana pantomimed a trip that let her dive graceful in low grav to sink into her neighbor’s lap.
“George” she hissed, “whose show was That One in?”
“Letty, you are melting the ice crystals in my waistcoat!”
“George, those are plastic shards that you hot-glued to your jacket because you didn’t have the money to get your personal coolant system replaced this month- you blew it all on vintage muslin, I was there when you got the bill. Now, you silly synthoid, tell me who that is!”
George grimaced and then swiveled his free-floating eye array towards the model.
“Huh. S/he was in Dolce & Gabbana & Clones Retrospective Show- the Androgen Collection. Isn’t that jacket one of your? S/he carries it off much better than that ginger tart you assigned.”
Letty squirmed out George’s lap and slunk behind his chair, to the amusement of those at the table who were still sober enough to notice she was no longer toasting. She emerged from behind the chairs coif first, but still managed to take the model by surprise as s/he walked by. She sprung out and spread her arms for a giant hug before air kissing both cheeks at dizzying speed. Suitably bamboozled, the model stopped and then blushed like mad. There was no escape, and s/he knew s/he was caught.
“Now, then, darling,” she linked armed with him/her as s/he tried to walk around her. “ You must tell me where you got this fabulous coat!” Letty smiled, slowly revealing a set of chrome dentures, spiked like a shark’s happy dream. “Or I just might have to beat it out of you.” She cooed.