A Fashionable Description...

Looking through some of my vintage creative writing...

Its crap really but I like to look that these things to see how far I've come!

Kathryn sank down into the cushions on her bed and bent down to release the ribbons binding her ridiculously high black Jimmy Choo’s to her swollen feet. The shoes fell to the floor with a clatter and she tucked the feet beneath her while she stretched out for the copy of Vogue laying on the sideboard and a tottering flute of champagne. As she sipped and flicked through the glossy pages she cocked her head to listen out for sounds in the apartment but all was silent; well save the usual sounds of people bustling in and out of the shops on the adjacent avenue, the bright yellow New York taxi’s and the clacking of expensive woman’s shoes making a racket on the pavement below. But she was all alone, alone in one of the busiest cities in the world. As the hours crawled buy on the ornate pocket grandfathers clock set over the top of the ornate faux-fireplace on the far side of the room the fraction of the unread magazine became shorter as Kathryn worked her way towards the directory pages. The champagne was long gone. The sky outside had become darker and the city had become brightly lit with twinkling lights as if someone had draped hundreds and thousands of fairy lights across the sky scrapers. She sighed and let her Siamese cat Dolce leap off her feet where she had been curled up just before Kathryn swung her legs over so her feet met the soft pile of her carpet. She padded across to the doors to her closet and pulled them open, flicking the light switch and stepping into the bright white room lined with shelves of shoes set out in pairs on top of their boxes and dress mannequins sporting what looked like the entire woman’s clothing department at Barney’s. She headed for the shoes first, replacing the Jimmy Choo’s she had earlier discarded and had scooped up from the floor before leaving her room. She then walked the length of the closet gazing at the breathtaking collection pondering over the names; Manolo Blahnik, Dolce & Gabanna, Prada and finally her favourite; her Jimmy Choo’s. Most woman picked out her dress first, then pained herself over finding a pair of shoes to match but not Kathryn. She always chose her shoes and then the dress to match what she called the ‘Jewel of her outfit’. Finally she rested on a pair of ruby red Ralph Lauren stilettos with conveniently matching ruby red clutch from the same designer. She was never a one for bright flashy colours so after selecting the shoes she headed for a black Gucci dress; vintage made of rumpled chiffon she had found in a shop in Chicago last year which she had worn more times than any other piece in her wardrobe. She slipped it over her head and slid into the shoes, looking down at her Rolex cursing over the time. She hurried out of the closet, slamming the door and forgetting to turn of the lights. Reaching her dressing table she touched up the makeup she had applied that morning and slicked on a fresh coat of rouge lipstick and worked some magic with the mascara wand. Grabbing a black fur lined cape off the back of the door she grabbed one of her numerous crystal perfume bottles and spritzed herself all over, calmed by the familiarity of her signature scent. When she reached the great glass doors of the lobby the doorman held if open for her and another hurried forward holding open the door of the long sleek black limo which was waiting for her. She journeyed, as usual alone; as true to form she had arranged for her entourage to already be at the benefit awaiting her arrival. She watched people walking down the sidewalk heading for their different Saturday night destinations through the windows wishing she could be one of them. She wondered where they were headed; clubs, restaurants raves all of them probably twice as fun as what the party she was headed for had in store for her. The car pulled up outside a large warehouse, where the great large doors were thrown open so the bright lights streamed through them accompanied by the pounding music. Her driver opened the door for her as she stepped out to flashbulbs going off in her face. The photographers were shouting her name as she stalked up the red carpet that perfectly coordinated with her shoes. She posed at the top by the doors, by the backdrop featuring all the charities and sponsors related to the benefit. After the photographers and reporters that lined the carpet turned away to snap at the latest arrival and Kathryn entered the party, several members of her entourage coming up behind her, one of them passing her yet another flute of the good stuff. And at that moment a tear formed in the corner of Kathryn’s eye, but she brushed it away before anyone could see. She felt more alone than she had ever done, surrounded by all these people; all of them gathered around her basking in her fame and none of them there because they wanted to be there for her. Everyone knew her name; why it was done up in flashing lights above every movie theatre in the city. The media had painted a picture of her; everyone thinks they know me; but they know nothing about me at all.