Isobel's first gig at the modelling agency was akin to stepping into a vibrant tapestry woven with threads of anticipation and ambition. The backstage hummed with energy as makeup artists delicately brushed hues of denim-inspired shadows onto her lids, and stylists meticulously adjusted the fit of her jeans to accentuate her curves. Amidst the flurry of activity, the brunette stood, a vision of poise amidst the whirlwind of preparation (and nerves).
The theme of the gig was denimโa fabric synonymous with rugged charm and timeless allure. However, what set this event apart was its male-centric focus, a realm where masculinity reigned supreme in the realm of fashion. As she glanced around the backstage area, Iso couldn't help but feel a subtle sense of displacement amidst the towering figures of male models clad in denim jackets and jeans. It was as if she had stumbled into a world where she was the unexpected guest at a party she had never been invited to.
Yet, despite the initial twinge of self-doubt, she refused to let the confines of gender outnumbering dampen her spirit. With each outfit change, she embraced the challenge of reinterpreting denim through her own unique lens, infusing each look with a touch of femininity and grace that was distinctly her own to outshine as per request. The process was not without its hurdlesโadjusting to the masculine silhouettes and mastering the art of exuding confidence in a traditionally male-dominated setting required her to push beyond her comfort zone. But with every step she took down the runway, Iso transformed her apprehension into a powerful statement of empowerment, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity. The catwalk was easier when the spotlight was on her. It was preparing for the aftermath photoshoots that got to her.
As the lights dimmed and the music swelled, she stepped onto the runway, a vision of strength and elegance amidst the sea of denim-clad masculinity that followed. With each stride, she defied expectations and shattered stereotypes, weaving a narrative of courage and conviction that resonated far beyond the confines of the fashion world. At that moment, Isobel ceased to be merely a model; she became a symbol of hope and possibility, a beacon of light illuminating the path for others to follow in her footsteps. Her figure was hugging with nice bootcut jeans that had different shades of denim patches along the leg. Her torso was covered with a denim bralet, its shade was brought out with her caramel-shaded skin tone. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail to expose her detailed facial features, especially her cheekbones which were highlighted with light blue glitter.
With every step, all she could imagine was that someday, some models would be wearing her own line instead. She just hoped and that was what made the experience much more tolerable and needed.
Once she swayed her way hips from side to side, she made her way to the exit so she could enter backstage, brushing past the next model who was another male brunette. A male brunette with a rather cocky grin. At first glance, he caught her eye as she continued to observe the models within this gig for some more pointers she could pick up on. The female tried not to make it obvious as people can mistake it as checking them out and that was rude. Lowering her head, she headed to the back room amongst her fellow models who had their run. It was not that Isobel was shy but given her family's current predicament, the less noise she made, the better. Not to draw attention.
Awaiting further instructions, she sat on a bench in their fitting room, she watched her colleagues with an intent to study each of their personalities. A quick study. Lifting one leg on top of the other, she gently tapped her denim platform against the floor in a rhythm of soothing to calm the nerves. In the meanwhile, her eyes were scanning for a bottle of water somewhere. Her eyes fell on an unopened water bottle on a station but the way it was dimly lit, she thought it was unoccupied and belonged to no one.
Well, this was going great. But also she was thirsty now. Was she allowed to drink with her makeup on? God she hoped.
With a soft sigh, she looked around and when she noticed no one had approached the station in three minutes, she got up and slowly motioned in order to take the unopened water bottle,
