counting on
every
student—whether you are a Catwalk House member or not—to remember that you are indeed a representative of Fashion International and are expected to carry yourself like a true fashionista,” Ms. Fab warns.
Now I tug Angora’s fluffy sweater sleeve. Her blue eyes are beaming so brightly they look like metallic Christmas balls dangling from a well-lit, overdecorated tree.
“I can’t do this,” I moan.
“What do you mean,
chérie
?” Angora asks.
It’s easy for Angora to get excited by the possibility of roaming cameras. I shudder thinking about a camera crew following me home to my dilapidated neighborhood. “Great. Maybe they can tape the drug dealers on114th Street while they’re engaged in a transaction!” I gripe.
“So what?” Aphro says with a shrug. So what? At least Mrs. Maydell keeps their home spotless. “Don’t let ’em come to your house.”
“That’s right,
mija
,” seconds Felinez.
“Well, we have to get into a house first before we can worry about them following us home,” Angora advises. “Let’s just take one Baby Phat step at a time.”
“Right now, we’re taking one Baby Phat step into the Mambo Hut and buying you a Mambolatte!” Felinez says.
“Afterward, let’s hit the job board—and pray,” groans Aphro. “I’ve got to make some money.”
“I hear that,” I moan.
“Me
tambien
!” Felinez joins in.
Chandelier throws a glare in our direction. “Fasten your Gucci seat belt, girls, because we’re in for the roller-coaster ride of our style-driven lives,” I predict.
“That’s good for our Catwalk Credo,” Angora advises. I whip out my pad and scribble. Then I poke Aphro to watch Chandelier as she air-kisses Nole into oblivion.
“Oh, Gucci hoochie,
puhleez
!” Aphro chortles.
For once, we don’t poke Aphro into silence.
FASHION INTERNATIONAL 35TH ANNUAL CATWALK COMPETITION BLOG
New school rule: You don’t have to be ultranice, but don’t get tooooo catty, or your posting will be zapped by the Fashion Avengers!!
BLING BLING IS THEIR THING….
Some misguided soles circle around their hoop dreams instead of facing them head-on. No, we’re not talking about the electronically tainted types at Dalmation Tech populating those skanky basketball courts in hopes of channeling video-gaming addictions. We’re talking about certain fashionistas right here at Fashion International who have banded together into posses based on the bling quotient of their baubles and bangles. One so-called
purrlicious
posse comes to mind: we see them every day, prancing around our bubble-gum pink hallways with primp-ready purpose, intent on reinventing the fashion wheel with their kitten-size talent. So far, these feline flashers number four, which is why we have aptly dubbed them the “Bling Quartet.” Perhaps it’s time to define the real meaning of the term “fashionista”—an emblem most of us wear like a badge of honor because we value its connotation of a person with fashion humility who relies on the
established
and
enduring
design icons from Pucci to Gucci for inspiration. My advice to real fashionistas who are
serious
about earning their street cred on Seventh Avenue: stay away fromthe Bling Quartet’s glare, or you’ll get a sunburn. And don’t be fooled by their bling ambition, which they believe will outshine the rest of us at the Catwalk competition. We know who is the 23-karat topping on
this
opulent fashion sundae—and who is
definitely
not the cat’s
MEOWCH
!
9/17/2008 4:00:03 PM
Posted by: Shimmy Choo to YOU
4
One week after the Catwalk nominations, it’s time to hit the campaign trail. The thirteen house leader candidates, as well as our “committee members” (aka our closest crew), have been allowed to exit last period earlier than the “civilian” students so we can set up our Catwalk election tables in the corridor on the main floor. Despite the twenty-minute grace period, time is not on our side. When the bell
every
student—whether you are a Catwalk House member or not—to remember that you are indeed a representative of Fashion International and are expected to carry yourself like a true fashionista,” Ms. Fab warns.
Now I tug Angora’s fluffy sweater sleeve. Her blue eyes are beaming so brightly they look like metallic Christmas balls dangling from a well-lit, overdecorated tree.
“I can’t do this,” I moan.
“What do you mean,
chérie
?” Angora asks.
It’s easy for Angora to get excited by the possibility of roaming cameras. I shudder thinking about a camera crew following me home to my dilapidated neighborhood. “Great. Maybe they can tape the drug dealers on114th Street while they’re engaged in a transaction!” I gripe.
“So what?” Aphro says with a shrug. So what? At least Mrs. Maydell keeps their home spotless. “Don’t let ’em come to your house.”
“That’s right,
mija
,” seconds Felinez.
“Well, we have to get into a house first before we can worry about them following us home,” Angora advises. “Let’s just take one Baby Phat step at a time.”
“Right now, we’re taking one Baby Phat step into the Mambo Hut and buying you a Mambolatte!” Felinez says.
“Afterward, let’s hit the job board—and pray,” groans Aphro. “I’ve got to make some money.”
“I hear that,” I moan.
“Me
tambien
!” Felinez joins in.
Chandelier throws a glare in our direction. “Fasten your Gucci seat belt, girls, because we’re in for the roller-coaster ride of our style-driven lives,” I predict.
“That’s good for our Catwalk Credo,” Angora advises. I whip out my pad and scribble. Then I poke Aphro to watch Chandelier as she air-kisses Nole into oblivion.
“Oh, Gucci hoochie,
puhleez
!” Aphro chortles.
For once, we don’t poke Aphro into silence.
FASHION INTERNATIONAL 35TH ANNUAL CATWALK COMPETITION BLOG
New school rule: You don’t have to be ultranice, but don’t get tooooo catty, or your posting will be zapped by the Fashion Avengers!!
BLING BLING IS THEIR THING….
Some misguided soles circle around their hoop dreams instead of facing them head-on. No, we’re not talking about the electronically tainted types at Dalmation Tech populating those skanky basketball courts in hopes of channeling video-gaming addictions. We’re talking about certain fashionistas right here at Fashion International who have banded together into posses based on the bling quotient of their baubles and bangles. One so-called
purrlicious
posse comes to mind: we see them every day, prancing around our bubble-gum pink hallways with primp-ready purpose, intent on reinventing the fashion wheel with their kitten-size talent. So far, these feline flashers number four, which is why we have aptly dubbed them the “Bling Quartet.” Perhaps it’s time to define the real meaning of the term “fashionista”—an emblem most of us wear like a badge of honor because we value its connotation of a person with fashion humility who relies on the
established
and
enduring
design icons from Pucci to Gucci for inspiration. My advice to real fashionistas who are
serious
about earning their street cred on Seventh Avenue: stay away fromthe Bling Quartet’s glare, or you’ll get a sunburn. And don’t be fooled by their bling ambition, which they believe will outshine the rest of us at the Catwalk competition. We know who is the 23-karat topping on
this
opulent fashion sundae—and who is
definitely
not the cat’s
MEOWCH
!
9/17/2008 4:00:03 PM
Posted by: Shimmy Choo to YOU
4
One week after the Catwalk nominations, it’s time to hit the campaign trail. The thirteen house leader candidates, as well as our “committee members” (aka our closest crew), have been allowed to exit last period earlier than the “civilian” students so we can set up our Catwalk election tables in the corridor on the main floor. Despite the twenty-minute grace period, time is not on our side. When the bell
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