rebellion || against the red

Another weekend, another party. The Baroness made it clear: only red was allowed, to celebrate the blooming of the roses. I tried to design her a red dress without making her look like a murder.

Once the Baroness was dressed, with her pep talk done, I was able to take a stroll among the guests. I wasn’t exactly curious to see what they were wearing, but I was bored out of my skull. All I saw was a disaster of crimson satins and silks. How did they manage to make such an exciting colour so dull? So classy, so ordinary. But then I saw her.

She was a petite girl, about my age, her black hair in a fairytale ponytail resting over her shoulder. She was wearing white. Quite the aberration, knowing the Baroness would eliminate anyone betraying the dress code. It was a frilly thing, but not exaggerate. Up close, I noticed the tiny polka dot pattern of her dress, in grey. Coiling her neck, the only red item: a glossy, but otherwise indifferent scarf. She wore it quite casually, thrown asymmetrically, in a way our refined invitees would only describe as atrocious.

I was spellbound. I couldn’t suppress the need to orbit and eventually crash upon her.

“My, excuse the interruption, but I couldn’t help but wonder. I have to say it, what an interesting choice!”

She smiled with glee, her darkest eyeshadow striking inspiration into me.

“These days, you can’t help but being a rebel, don’t you think? This new Cruella label is inspiring. I’m Belle,” she said, as she stretched her hand all too close to my face. Her perfume was sublime: bold but feminine. Kind of the best from both worlds.

“Stella. Nice to meet you.”

“You look really smart, Stella. Are you a journalist?”

“Oh, I’m just one of the Baroness’ assistants,” I said, then dared to add: “I designed today’s dress.”

Her eyelashes went up.

“Now really?” she said. “Oh, excuse me. You must get the same kind of reaction from everyone.” She giggled. “So, you are the Baroness’ little princess?”

That made me smile. “In more ways than you think,” I thought. I shook my head.

“So, miss Belle. I wanted to ask you about your dress? Well, about your colour choices.”

She tilted her head smugly.

“Oh, obviously, my dear! But don’t you know? Black and white are shades, not colours!”