Post by Sven De Ruyter on Feb 5, 2012 14:06:14 GMT -5
If anyone was excited about the Fashion Week in Paris, it was Sven. Fashion was a massive part of his life, and was almost as important to him as his sister's waffles. He wasn't going to school for fashion design or anything, no. He knew better than to try to force his way into a field with so many talented artists that he couldn't ever hope to compete with. Afonso, his lovely boyfriend, however, was a designer, and Sven felt that if there was ever anything he really needed to see in the fashion world, Afonso would be the one to make that happen anyway. Though Sven couldn't design like Afonso could, he really could model. He'd been doing this job for two years now, and adored his work. Sometimes, things got hard, what with the dieting leading to mood swings and all of the traveling, but he felt it was all worth it. He didn't much care to look at himself afterwards, he only wanted to see the clothing. High fashion was something of a fetish to him.
Given all of this, the Paris Fashion Week was a must see event for him. He'd first gone as a child when his mother was dating some designer, and had since then been almost obsessed with it. This would be his third year going, and like last year, he had the misfortune of having to work through the whole thing. While he did get free tickets to the event, and his plane tickets were paid for by his agency, he had hardly a free moment to explore. He wasn't exactly getting paid a lot either, given the absurd French tax on modeling. All of his earnings were going to pay the debt he'd just incurred by kissing his brother's boyfriend and was therefore forced to pay for Antonio and Lars to come to the show. In some ways, this wasn't so bad. Lars was going to model for Afonso, who was showing some of his designs at the event. Sven supposed the company wouldn't be bad at all, even if he didn't feel particularly comfortable being around Antonio any time in the near future. Mathias was planning to come out to the Fashion Week with his own little boyfriend as well, so if Sven played his cards right, he would't have to have any awkward moments of Afonso staring at him when he stood too close to Antonio.
Sven had flown into Paris just a night ago, and without stopping to rest, he'd gone to countless casting calls and fittings, and after a night of partying until 5am, here was was, waiting for his friends, and Lars, to show up so they could get coffee and discuss plans for the week. He was propped up on a tall chair at the table in his hotel room, a cup of fresh black coffee just in front of him, a cigarette tipped at his lips, his elbow resting on the table and arm supporting his head. When a certain boom stick head blurred into view, he slumped back into his chair and lifted a hand in greeting. "So what are your plans?"
Given all of this, the Paris Fashion Week was a must see event for him. He'd first gone as a child when his mother was dating some designer, and had since then been almost obsessed with it. This would be his third year going, and like last year, he had the misfortune of having to work through the whole thing. While he did get free tickets to the event, and his plane tickets were paid for by his agency, he had hardly a free moment to explore. He wasn't exactly getting paid a lot either, given the absurd French tax on modeling. All of his earnings were going to pay the debt he'd just incurred by kissing his brother's boyfriend and was therefore forced to pay for Antonio and Lars to come to the show. In some ways, this wasn't so bad. Lars was going to model for Afonso, who was showing some of his designs at the event. Sven supposed the company wouldn't be bad at all, even if he didn't feel particularly comfortable being around Antonio any time in the near future. Mathias was planning to come out to the Fashion Week with his own little boyfriend as well, so if Sven played his cards right, he would't have to have any awkward moments of Afonso staring at him when he stood too close to Antonio.
Sven had flown into Paris just a night ago, and without stopping to rest, he'd gone to countless casting calls and fittings, and after a night of partying until 5am, here was was, waiting for his friends, and Lars, to show up so they could get coffee and discuss plans for the week. He was propped up on a tall chair at the table in his hotel room, a cup of fresh black coffee just in front of him, a cigarette tipped at his lips, his elbow resting on the table and arm supporting his head. When a certain boom stick head blurred into view, he slumped back into his chair and lifted a hand in greeting. "So what are your plans?"