Day 1: Fashion
Mari flitted around the back of Milan's Fashion Week, helping models zip up their dresses, or checking on hair and make-up.
She was starting to stress out over this.
When she'd gotten an invite to be the youngest fashion designer under 18 at Milan's Fashion Week, of course she'd had some reservations. But after a convincing pep talk from her friends (mostly Alya) and her parents' undying support, she decided to do it.
Her room arrangements, her plane ticket there and back and so on were covered by Fashion Week. All she had to do was have four original outfits ready for Fashion Week.
She'd been grateful to have three in the works when she'd received the letter, so it wasn't much to get them finished.
"Mademoiselle Dupain Cheng, are your models ready to walk? You're up next."
"Are my models ready? We're next!"
Four assistants brought her models forward, and Mari ran her eyes over the outfits, scaled to the size of the models that had been given to her. Not a hair was out of place, no tears or rips, and each model looked perfect.
"Yes, monsieur, we are ready."
And she knew she was, too.