DESTRUCTIVE.

SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK PRESENTS: RICHARD III

Location: Lena Horne Bandshell in Prospect Park Time: 5pm (prior to the start) Event: All Events BRIC Celebrate Brooklyn! Festival Open To: Anyone

—-

She didn’t have a film camera in hand today, as she walked among the crowd. She wore a Veronica Beard, Kimber Paisley one shoulder summer dress and also just enough to cover what needed to be covered at all times. Better yet, a friend of hers got it on discount, and then sold it to her at further discount. She, of course, told Pieter (who hated the thought that he couldn’t provide for his wife that she bought it new, and the tag supported it – and he knew little enough about women’s fashion to not care past designer - didn’t know it was two years past season. 

It was the little rebellions that helped. 

Hell, she’d gladly shop thrift stores and small in-house garment producers if it meant she could minimize her carbon footprint, but unless it was to better his reputation and only when those that mattered were around would Pieter play at being globally conscious. 

Samira Moradi came with a digital camera in hand, focused more on the people coming in to listen to the line-up of  The Beths, SASAMI and Charlotte Cornfield. She liked capturing people when they were relaxed with one another. Food and music helped with that. 

She wandered through the crowd, camera in hand and spotted a person - not different from all the rest but apart from them just the same. She took a candid shot before she moved towards them. “Hi, I’m Samira - I’d like to show you the picture I took and see if I have your permission to keep it for a book I’m putting together. Working title: People of New York – bland and an incredible work-in-progress title.” 

›››

Devon was beginning to prioritize her “she” time, meaning she was maximizing her time by doing things she enjoyed doing. She had been following orders and rules for what seemed like decades, enjoying the lifestyle at the time but now she was beginning to grow out of it. Of course, she was known for her work and she loved what she did but sometimes– she just wanted to enjoy the beauty of the world around her without thinking of her work.

Today, she had chosen to explore around the neighborhood, stumbling across the mini-festival happening in Prospect Park. It was perfect for her to stroll amongst the crowd and blend in, finally being able to mindlessly move through her day. She found a candied nuts stand, indulging in the snack that reminded her of when she first came to New York.

The model in disguise looked down at her watch, noting the time. Before she could round up her thoughts, the voice pulled her away from her thoughts and her eyes darted towards the camera in her hand. Her lips curved into a slight frown before she caught herself, shaking her head as she pushed her hair behind her ears. “You took a picture of me?” she asked, a little irritated at the very thing she was running away from. “Catchy title,” Devon said. “Are you doing this... for fun?” she inquired, almost shuddering at the thought. 

@devonslater​​

“It’s a gender reveal party,” he informs Devon over the noise — which can be heard even outside the building where he stands, smoking against the night. Due to the dress code, he has no intention of going in — but Ava’s bound to go for a booze run at some point or another. “Come on, Dev, hang out with me. I’m just waiting to tell someone ‘I told you so’, then we should hit up a club, or something.” Shrug, and a swift blow of smoke. “It’s been a while.” 

›››

She stands there, her lashes bouncing with each blink as she contemplates her next move. As much as she’d love to stand next to a building, she wasn’t sure she could do it without a drink in her hand. Shaking her head, she stepped to the side as party goers went in and out. “But, it’s hot out here. I need a drink. With ice. Maybe even two drinks now that I’m thinking about it,” she chewed on her bottom lip, pulling her hair up off her neck. “Aren’t you melting in that?” she asked him, referring to his own outfit. 

“How long until the someone shows up? I’m not waiting more than... two minutes.” 

day ╲╲╲  a bar they should’ve left a long time ago

›››

She had been working more and more despite her wishes to slow down. Her mind and body yearned for a break but her agency didn’t deem that fit. They constantly reminded Devon how she was lucky to still maintain her look aka she hadn’t aged enough for her to get the boot in the modeling world. Sometimes, she just wanted to let go and forget about the fashion tape and concealer. Against her publicists wishes, she went out without being glammed for hours. All she wanted was a beer, not an invitation to the Oscars. She wrapped her hand around the glass, taking a swig and letting out a sound of refreshment. “Nothing does it like a good beer,” she murmured to herself; and whoever could possibly hear her. She ignored the rings coming from her phone, going ahead and ordering another Corona with a lime. She looked over at the brunette, her eyes gazing her nearly empty drink. “Looks like you need a refill,” the blonde insisted coyly. 

day ╲╲╲  decades later in NYC

›››

She was one to reap in her luxuries, obsessed with the finer things in life. Sure, she came from humble beginnings and appreciated all the hardships she went through but nothing felt better than being wrapped in designer wear with a glass of champagne being refilled. All good things came to an end, though. After hours of shopping and scouring the Chanel store, the lines of bags exited the store into the SUV waiting for her. She grabbed the one bag left behind for her holding, strolling out of the store feeling on cloud 9 until her heel got caught in a crack and she tripped forward. Things like this didn’t happen often but when they did, she hated it. Devon huffed, pushing her blonde tresses from her face as she pulled her heel out of the ground and came face-to-face with the familiar face. “Well, dang– now don’t tell me the first time I see you again is after I took a spill across New York City,” she said, dusting herself off and smiling at Audrie. “Audrie Wu. It’s been... decades!” Devon greeted her. 

x

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Chilis person - the establishment seems a bit below your usual fanfare. An upscale Chilis, perhaps? One frequented by fashions elite, etc etc.” Aera meant her comments without an ounce of malice - if anything, they were tinged with a warmth, or playful glee. Devon wasn’t someone you’d picture in sticky booths; more so on a catwalk, or glossy magazine pages. “So does that mean you’re a brand ambassador with our dear Governor, or he’s your competition for the gig? If it means anything, I think you might have him beat in the white teeth department, somehow. Ask the woman who runs that fashion bible of yours, to let you write a feature all about it.” 

›››

It was funny how life changed after she had a baby. Mirela had another person under her care, a tiny person that demanded her attention 24/7. Still, this was the time when she slowed down, running away from all the rush and busy routine she had with her job. It wasn’t like she didn’t miss it, but it was something she couldn’t explain. Deep down, Mirela knew how she wouldn’t go back and fall on that same crazy routine again. Surprisingly, slowing things down was growing up on her. She had a bit more time to take care of herself, and she was seeing friends and have some quality time, real quality time, out from the galas and high society events.

Her smile grew back at the sight of Devon, her face not able to hide the surprise when she saw all the goodies her friend was carrying on her arms. “Devon!”, she chuckled, unsure if she would try a hug or help with the box first. “Thank you. I’m happy too, most of times. Come inside, you didn’t have to drop anything, but I really appreciate the gesture”, she said and stepped aside so Devon could walk in and make herself comfortable.

›››

Devon swayed into her apartment swiftly, a way of letting Mirela know she was going to be in and out. After all, she didn’t want to bother her and baby Erika too much, they must have been so exhausted since Erika’s lovely arrival. She set the box down on the coffee table, turning around with a cheeky smile towards Mirela. “I know you don’t need anything, but of course, I wanted to get you something. And baby Erika!,” she said, waving a hand towards the large perfectly wrapped box. The sheen gift wrapping sparkled under the light catching their gaze. “I hope you like it,” Devon said. She stepped aside, moving out of the way for Mirela to open up the gift. 

“How are you and Erika doing? I bet it has been a crazy past few weeks,” Devon mentioned. At this point in her life, she was adjusted very much to her and her dog’s life. It was easy to lug Duke around– sometimes, but he was different from a living breathing baby, although he was a baby in her heart. “I figured you two needed a little gift!” 

location: spotlight bar

open to: all!! 

    “Are you a Long Island person? This drink cost me twenty five dollars, and I can swear on any religious book, that this tastes like something I’d get at Chilis during happy hour.” She’d grown tired of the conversation with her colleagues, sprawled across one of the bovine patterned couches; the male population either waxing at length about their own prowess, or attempting to snag a bar-goer under thirty, into conversation. Aera wasn’t against superfluous conversations at the behest of retrieving information - but the atmosphere tonight, was draining.

 And so she’d taken to the bar, engaging the person next to her in conversation - whether the other woman wished to be left alone was well, a little too late to be considered now. “It’s time for the oh-so tedious and cliche question - are you here for work, or for pleasure? I’ll buy a drink for anyone who can give me a more interesting nugget that the Governor is involved in an underground Crest whitening strips operation. And if you’re here for pleasure? I’m not in the market, but if you’ve got a story worthwhile, I’ll bat my eyes for a minute or two.”

›››

Devon was more of a gin and tonic person, but overall, she was just an alcohol type of person. If it did the job, it was good enough for her. 

“They’re alright, not my favorite– but I won’t pass up a Chili’s Happy Hour vodka lemonade,” she said, conspicuously eyeing the auburn beverage. Her hand wrapped around her own drink, an almost finished tequila on the rocks. It was a safe bet for her night. Devon let out an amused chuckle, nodding her head as she listened. The governor’s teeth had to be some of the best chompers of New York, perhaps a runner up to Alex Rodriguez’s chiclets. “No, actually, I’m here as a Colgate representative,” she lied, sticking her hand out with a smile. “It’s my passion to push the message of oral hygiene!”

Where: Her penthouse Open to anyone (If we haven’t interact yet, please assume connections :) )

Her baby was the most beautiful thing Mirela had ever seen, but she was dealing with the “enchantment” of the first days with a newborn. Erika barely cried during the nights, but Mirela would wake up once, sometimes twice during her sleep to assist her daughter. She was thankful for her sister to be there by her side, looking after her niece during the days when Mirela was taking some precious naps. The thought of hiring a nanny was tempting, especially for when her maternity leave was up, but she wanted to be there for her baby, to nurture that bond between mother and daughter she felt she didn’t have with her own mother, even if that costed her the black circles under her eyes. She finally was receiving her close friends to the penthouse, to start socializing again, but also to show off her gorgeous little girl. After the doorman called telling her she had visitors, she checked her reflection at the mirror for a second and after thinking she was decent with a clean shirt, she headed to the door ro welcome the person. “Hey you” 

›››

Devon wasn’t surrounded by many people like herself. As the years went on, everybody had their different priorities and hers was certainly her career. She had worked hard to reach where she was at, despite what everyone thought. She took pride in her humble beginnings, who wouldn’t? But, she knew she preferred her current tax bracket much more than when she was younger. She was happy to be able to spoil her friends and family. Hearing the good news of baby Erika’s birth, she knew she needed to pay a visit to the new mom and newborn. She stood out of Mirela’s door with one arm wrapped around a box and her other hand holding a comically large gift bag. As she heard the doorknob turn, a smile beamed across her face.

“Mirela!” She greeted her, excitement pouring through her tone. “Congratulations on your bundle of joy! I’m so happy for you. I wanted to drop off some goodies.” 

     where: bar of your choice mwah      with: open !!

     If the theme had been your mom’s prom dress, maybe most of the outfits would have followed the guidelines; instead, Ava could only count eleven truly accurate representations of gilded glamour and only around four or five that truly stuck out. Head tilted back, lips parted as the liquid once in their glass vanished behind them. Their own personal drinking game – a shot every time they want to claw their eyes out.

     “Gin tonic, please.” A new order for a new set of celebrities and other faces they’d never seen before to walk down the runway. The poor unfortunate soul who happened to stand at the bar right that moment would probably live to regret such a decision as soon as Ava spoke once more. “If I show you something, do you promise to give me your honest opinion?” They would never, in their right mind, agree to such a request, but tonight they were on the right side of the question. “When you look at this, do you not automatically think she lost a bet?”

›››

She stood in front of the line of cameras, avoiding breathing too heavy so she wouldn’t burst through the corset she was sewn into. All she could think about was the shot of tequila that was definitely waiting for her. It was chaos, something she found quickly tiresome at her big age. Maybe this would be here last MET gala. Devon waved as she was guided off the carpet by her tea, finally letting out one big breath as she was being released from the constricting materials molded onto her. Her first request: the bar. She wiggled more in her outfit as it became less suffocating. The models eyes wandered over the people she was expected to make small-talk with for the rest of the night, counting down the hours until she was in bed with her dog. Her attention now on them as they spoke to her, letting out a huff as she listened. 

Little did they know, Devon was there when Ms. Ratajkowski made her final choice. She shrugged and waved at the bartender to come back. “I used to have a babysitter growing up who said, “para gustos, los colores”,” she responded. “Or, maybe the bet was to wear that.” 

DEVON SLATER ╲ The MET Gala

   he’s awaiting for whoever gives him a response &. his orbs catch onto the blonde, hearing her place her order, he wrote it down on the iPad &. as she finished he nodded his head ❝ for the burger, do you want everything on it —— lettuce , tomatoes, onions ? ❞ ebony hues meet her grassy ones ❝ &. as for the tequila, we have milagro on special at the moment, each shot is three dollars. ❞ 

second the order to the kitchen, he sends a small smile her way, finishing his sentence the same way that she had done. ❝ pas de problème, magnifique ! ❞ 

›››

She nodded her head, beyond famished at this point. “Put the whole works on it,” she said. “Do you have jalapeños? Can I get a side of them, too?” She requested. She was officially off the clock and food was her comfort at this time of the night. As he explained the options, she couldn’t help but gaze off at the waitress coming out with a tray of food. her stomach growled and she let out a breath. 

“Three dollars shots? Might as well give them out for free. Let me get four,” she said. “Two for me, two for you,” she offered. “Unless... you’re not a tequila guy. Then, all four for me,” the blonde said, a smile appearing against her lips. 

—

There’s something to be said about those who walk freely into torture. That’s Vogue, HQ, this morning — just as it had been for every morning as far as Lola can recall. There had been something to its appeal and novelty once. Eventually it had all but worn off, and left her in the very same status as every other New Yorker that would sit next to her in the subway. Decently employed but descouraged; financially stable and still aimless. 

Caffeine isn’t the answer, but enough of a desensitizer. Like a fashionable zombie, she awaits behind Devon Slater to claim her first cup of— why do they call it Joe, anyways?

“Um. Rihanna’s preggo fashion is all the rage these days. Which is fun, because I’m pregnant, so whenever I get to watermelon stage I know that pairing a crop-top and a furry hat totally works.” She’s not pregnant. She’s tired, and potentially still high from the evening before. But they — it’s a girl! Lola shrugs. “I have some articles lined up,” — one with the Cartel underboss, no less — “but, you know.” Beat, as Lola steps up to claim a latte. At a turtle’s pace, it starts to pour. 8am, the clock says. Admittedly too early for what strikes next: “Have you ever considered that what we do is fucking pointless?” 

›››

Devon inconspicuously pulled out a small package of collagen from her pocket and promptly dumped it into her cup of black coffee. She had grown to succumb to the secrets of maintaining the fountain of youth, or whatever her team had told her. She took a swig of the hot liquid, nodding as she let her words go in one ear and out the other. “You’re pregnant?” Devon raised an eyebrow, a smile of pity forming on her tired features. “Congrats are in order. Don’t forget to match the crop top and fuzzy hat with seven inch stilettos while you walk down the snowy streets of New York with your rapper boyfriend,” she said with a grin. 

She took another sip from her coffee, feeling the caffeine preparing her for pointless day. The blonde nodded, eyes slightly rolling back. “You’re preaching to the fucking choir,” the model agrees. “Whatever– as long as my bills are paid. That’s all that matters, right?” 

after a long day, he decided to make his way to go get a drink, what better place to go if not his family restaurant. as he walks in, he slips off the coat &. watches as an employee had been there longer than he was supposed to. making his way being the bar ❝ come on kid, go home. i’ll take over ❞ he adds on as he turns around, searching engines trying to get his attention ❝ how can I help you today ? ❞ 

›››

She’s starving, holding her huffs in as she scanned the options one more time. Devon put the menu down, pulling out her phone and drafting a message to her assistant. She was going to be running a few minutes late to her next task: meet her personal trainer. She wasn’t too upset, to be honest. As she pressed send, she felt the heavens open up as she finally received the attention she was impatiently waiting for.

She gave him a half smile, nodding. “Yeah. You can definitely help me. Can you get me a burger? And, some fries? And... a shot of tequila. That’s it for now. S'il te plaît et merci!”