|
|
Post by Mercedes Love on Dec 19, 2006 13:38:27 GMT -5
“Sign here, Miss Tritoni…and initial here, and here.”
Mercedes sat in the back of the main office, watching her mother buy the latest and greatest thing to hit New York art. Galerie Quatre. Perfection. Mercedes had been set on having her name written all over this place since the it’s wonderful opening party. And now her wish had been granted. The Tritoni family now had ownership of the Galerie Quatre, and life was good. So good that Mercedes had decided on wearing a certain little black dress that never seemed to good out of style.
The silk taffeta bubble dress featured a very flattering very plain neck line. Made for attention to be drawn to a large bust, and a slim waist, the silk taffeta was done right at the hem, to create a on elegant pouf. A thin silk stash, fashioned perfectly at her waist, ties in a pretty bow, to make the dress say, ‘Look, sexy, elegant, and CLASSY!’
The dress had only been worn one other time, in a shoot for a certain photographer. Paris Hamilton. Talk about going all out.
Mercedes had barely touched her think black hair, only added a bit of curl, parted it off to the side, and left it. Gorgeous, darling. As for make-up, please. Like she had actually done anything. Liquid eyeliner had been quickly swiped over the rims of her eyes, and tipped just outwards from her lashes. Just because she knew it was the right things to do, she had swipped a clear layer of Bobby Brown lip gloss on.
Tres Chic.
[/color] |
|
|
|
Post by Scarlett Lehoux on Dec 19, 2006 15:50:55 GMT -5
Scarlett had dressed in an excellent fashion for this particular event, an event her and her mother had been asked specifically to partake in. Her hair had been straightened by Mister Fekkai himself, because curls would have been too much with the dress. Harry Winston chandelier earrings adorned her earlobes, small and classy. Her great-grandmother's--an heirloom. No necklace, not with diamond earrings.
As she stepped out of the house with her mother, who was looking chic in a simple black satin, impeccably cut Carolina Herrera blazer-and-skirt combination, her little silver strappy satin Manolo Blahnik heels made click-clacking noises across the pavement. She shivered, her hands wrapping around the silver satin Vera Wang clutch she was holding. Maybe she should have worn long sleeves... her dress was strapless and navy blue. It was a Shosanna number with a tight bodice and drop waist. The skirt flared out just a bit, being held up with chiffon, around her hips. It was the newest imported from the runways in Milan, where she had just been.
She hopped into the taxi with her mother, who looked happy but controlled as the taxi pulled up at Galerie Quatre. They stepped out of the car, a gorgeous, skinny A-list pair in haute couture. The picture should have been taken and put up on the walls of the gallery. Scarlett stepped inside, careful not to trip on the sweeping marble stairs of the entrance.
She was a little suprised to see Mercedes Tritoni inside, but a butler approached them. "Your forms, Lehoux misses. I am sure you know of the co-owning arrangement." Scarlett's mother signed, looking up coldly at Cede, as though resigned. She handed over the forms and the deal was done.
Scarlett and her family owned half of Galerie Quatre...
And there was nothing the Tritonis could do about it.
They had been phoned a few weeks earlier, approached with the idea of supporting the gallery--though the name was to remain the same. 'Lehoux and Tritoni Galleria'? Oh, please. That was so tacky. Blair Lehoux knew Scarlett had modeled in a lot of the pictures and thought it only fitting that they should sign the papers. [/size] |
|
|
|
Post by molihe on Feb 27, 2008 1:31:24 GMT -5
|
|
x 
x 
