Fashion Plate: Chapter Three
Nov. 2nd, 2025 01:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_siobhanI have legit lost track of where I am.
I think two gin & tonics went into this chapter. Ish
Our normal coffee night wasn’t for another two weeks, but I reached out to Tara on the phone.
“So...” I started, once we had our hellos out of the way. “@JenXc!ite.”
“Oh, GOD!” The puff of air that came through the phone could have blown my hat off.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad. Those fucking beauty marks... they are the hotest thing right now, and they are 5K Canadian! She wants one for Christmas! I don’t spend $5 K on Christmas presents fro the whole family combined!”
“Have you.. have you seen them?”
“No, it’s just a beauty mark right? Maybe I could get her a knockoff one.”
“Um. I’ll text you some pictures.”
There was a long minute of silence before I heard a faint “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, so apparently they are all different. Those are just a couple of examples. But if you follow the hashtags you’ll see more.”
Louder, “What the fuck!”
“Yeah I figured... you would want to know.”
“Fuck yeah, I’m showing this to her dad. Thanks for this, she was talking about having her whole extended family pitch in instead of giving individual presents, fucking hell, look, see you in a couple of weeks...”
<>
The media articles hit two weeks later. “The Hot New Internet Trend That Women Love And Men Hate”. They interviewed groups of women who all said indignantly that it wasn’t about men and it wasn’t for men, and they were tired of men trying to control how they dressed.
Every photograph in every article showed the day one patch that looked like a pimple
<>
Sarah showed up back in my cubicle a month later. Since the last time I had seen her she had dyed her hair a lovely copper shade on top that faded to silver at the tips. Her fingernails and eyelashes glowed faintly in the same copper shade.
“I like your hair. Is that another @JenXc1te look,” I asked her.
“It is!” she perked up immediately. “Are you following her?”
“I am not, but I know you are.” I gestured at her. “So none of this is permanentt, right? You can swap it out whenever you get tired of it? Re-dye your hair, pant your nails a different colour, take off the eyelashes and the beauty patch.”
She hesitated.
“Or is more like a tatoo?” I went on. “Do you need a doctor to take that off?”
She sniffed. “Why would I want to take it off?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. Change of taste? Change of fashion? I dyed my hair from the age of 16 to 50, I don’t think I used the same colour more than twice. Had leopard spots one time.” She narrowed her eyes at me.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous Sarah. I am concerned.”
“You are jealous. This is an exclusive fashion statement and you know it’s not for you.”
“Sarah.” I leaned forward in my seat. “You haev an extra mouth in the side of your face.” Her fingers flashed up instinctively to cover it, she barely moved them away again in time to avoid the snap of sharp teeth. “And it looks like a mouth you can’t control. It is absolutely your choice if you want to have it, but I want to know you can remove it if you decide you’re done iwth it.”
“I think we’re done here.” She turned on her heel and walked out.
Well. That could have gone better.
On the other hand, she was out of my cubicle.
I sighed and went back to work.
I think two gin & tonics went into this chapter. Ish
Our normal coffee night wasn’t for another two weeks, but I reached out to Tara on the phone.
“So...” I started, once we had our hellos out of the way. “@JenXc!ite.”
“Oh, GOD!” The puff of air that came through the phone could have blown my hat off.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad. Those fucking beauty marks... they are the hotest thing right now, and they are 5K Canadian! She wants one for Christmas! I don’t spend $5 K on Christmas presents fro the whole family combined!”
“Have you.. have you seen them?”
“No, it’s just a beauty mark right? Maybe I could get her a knockoff one.”
“Um. I’ll text you some pictures.”
There was a long minute of silence before I heard a faint “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, so apparently they are all different. Those are just a couple of examples. But if you follow the hashtags you’ll see more.”
Louder, “What the fuck!”
“Yeah I figured... you would want to know.”
“Fuck yeah, I’m showing this to her dad. Thanks for this, she was talking about having her whole extended family pitch in instead of giving individual presents, fucking hell, look, see you in a couple of weeks...”
<>
The media articles hit two weeks later. “The Hot New Internet Trend That Women Love And Men Hate”. They interviewed groups of women who all said indignantly that it wasn’t about men and it wasn’t for men, and they were tired of men trying to control how they dressed.
Every photograph in every article showed the day one patch that looked like a pimple
<>
Sarah showed up back in my cubicle a month later. Since the last time I had seen her she had dyed her hair a lovely copper shade on top that faded to silver at the tips. Her fingernails and eyelashes glowed faintly in the same copper shade.
“I like your hair. Is that another @JenXc1te look,” I asked her.
“It is!” she perked up immediately. “Are you following her?”
“I am not, but I know you are.” I gestured at her. “So none of this is permanentt, right? You can swap it out whenever you get tired of it? Re-dye your hair, pant your nails a different colour, take off the eyelashes and the beauty patch.”
She hesitated.
“Or is more like a tatoo?” I went on. “Do you need a doctor to take that off?”
She sniffed. “Why would I want to take it off?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. Change of taste? Change of fashion? I dyed my hair from the age of 16 to 50, I don’t think I used the same colour more than twice. Had leopard spots one time.” She narrowed her eyes at me.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous Sarah. I am concerned.”
“You are jealous. This is an exclusive fashion statement and you know it’s not for you.”
“Sarah.” I leaned forward in my seat. “You haev an extra mouth in the side of your face.” Her fingers flashed up instinctively to cover it, she barely moved them away again in time to avoid the snap of sharp teeth. “And it looks like a mouth you can’t control. It is absolutely your choice if you want to have it, but I want to know you can remove it if you decide you’re done iwth it.”
“I think we’re done here.” She turned on her heel and walked out.
Well. That could have gone better.
On the other hand, she was out of my cubicle.
I sighed and went back to work.