Someone's Little Girl • •

[veronica trinity hart]

Ronnie loved making fashion happen a hell of a lot more than she did parading on catwalks and runways with it. However she still had to love the fashion shows too because from time to time someone needed an extra model who was just Ronnie's fit and she had spent most of her youth perfecting that walk and wearing some of the most expensive, beautiful, and occasionally ludicrous designs. Right now though she wanted to focus on her own work. She had a place with one of the fashion houses under the wings of a much experienced mentor who had known Ronnie since she was half the height she now was. When she wasn't there or playing social butterfly then she could be found in the fashion workshop at the university campus. The rock star's daughter much preferred working in the fashion house space than this one, but this was a design for her class and she didn't want to take up room when it wasn't on her list of things to contribute to the new New York show. Other designers needed those tables and mannequins more than she did right now and so Ronnie took up occupancy in one of the quieter fashion rooms. Her sketches were arranged at the top of the table, her mannequin to her left and the rolls of fabric laid out before her. Some of the pieces were already assembled and pinned, but Ronnie was a perfectionist and this was far from finished.

She had come from a world of glitz and glamour and looked the part of it even when she was stepping out for grocery shopping. She flashed her cash on friends and nights in the city, as well as spur of the moment vacations for Paris and Milan shows, or sometimes just to top up her tan on a tropical beach. There was more to Ronnie than money though, but so many people never realised that because of the image she gave off. It was partly thanks to how she was raised, her mother's influence, but in part it was also because she had insecurities behind that flawless image and she was scared of letting anyone see them. There was a part of her which didn't know who her true friends were and she was scared to find that out. Luckily Ronnie was good at blocking most of those thoughts away and she frequently gave off a rather chilling “I don't care” vibe when in reality she probably did. That didn't mean she wasn't a friendly girl though. So long as she didn't feel creeped out or threatened by someone she could chat the days away with strangers. Besides, in nightclubs and at parties that was usually how socialising worked and those were two scenes Ronnie had been around long before she was even legal to touch the alcohol behind the bars. It was the world that came with rock stars and fashion models.

Ronnie hoped to get most of this dress assembled by the end of the college day. She had an invitation to a rather exclusive party and while her plus one had bailed on her at the last minute for a night in with her boyfriend, Ronnie wasn't deterred from going. She already knew there would be people there she'd recognise. Before that though there was still a serious amount of work to get through. Ronnie draped the fabric over her dress form and began to pinch the fabric to pin in place so she could just see if it was coming together how her sketches had envisioned. The pin box was on the desk behind her and as she reached back to pull two pins from its collection, the contained toppled and pins scattered everywhere over the table, stools and the floor. “Shit!” She shouted, stomping one of her high heels on the ground and not even thinking about anyone else who was working in the room. Ronnie might have looked almost identical to her mother, but she had inherited her father's crude tongue. Sighing, she scraped her thick long hair back over her shoulder and began the slow, torturous job of trying to collect the pins back together. It was the last thing she needed if she wanted to stay on schedule, but she couldn't leave them scattered like that.

• • •

TAGGED! open!
WORDS! 726!
OUTFIT! Glamour Gal!
LYRICS! Carry You Home - - James Blunt
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Hadley Bronwyn Hastings]

Hadley hadn’t known if she would like teaching, even part-time like she was doing now but as it turned out, she quite liked it. It was something she’d never done before and that in itself was exciting. Her students were impressive and Hadley couldn’t have been happier with the cards she’d been dealt. It was fun to tell her students the best way to do something, or the cheats she’d learned along the way that made a job easier and still made whatever they were working on actually work and look good. She created nearly everything she wore, minus a couple pieces because they were her favourite designers. But for the most part, she wore what she made and they were still in excellent condition. So she obviously knew what she was talking about and that counted more than some words and some credits on a CV. The teacher she had interrupted had been wearing store purchased clothing at the time, and spoke as if she’d never even sat in front of a good, well used sewing machine. It left Hadley wondering how the school hired their teachers, what credentials were needed. Because in Hadley’s eyes, it was a diploma from a cracker jack box and nothing more.

For Hadley it was always obvious who really wanted to become a dressmaker, a fashion designer or even a seamstress. They made quite a bit of the pieces they wore, often mixing and matching with things they’d picked up at the shops and boutiques. But they were also the ones that carted around their sketchbooks every where they went, they were the ones that hand pencil smudges on their cheeks from adding a bit of shadow and depth to their sketches and then brushing away a stray hair or taking care of an itch under their eye. Some showed their tempers when they were deep in concentration and a piece or section wasn’t working the way they wanted it to. Hadley had seen it all and she loved it all because it was all fashion, every single part of it.

The young professor was heading in to set up for her class early since they were starting a new project and she wanted to make sure her own dress design was complete before the class started. She’d done it all the night before when she’d gotten home from the theatre, but there was a small bit at the waist that hadn’t looked like it was sitting right on her mannequin so she wanted to bring it in and fiddle with it at the school, in the class. There was great lighting in her studio at home but it was even better at the school and the extra light would help her see where she’d made the mistake. Everyone made them, even her and she could easily admit to it. Sometimes a design just didn’t want to work the way it was created and that was the fun in dressmaking.

She hadn’t realised though that the classroom she was supposed to use held an open session before her class. She’d never been this early before and hadn’t been aware until now. It wasn’t a big deal, Hadley honestly figured that the girl in the back probably wanted the quiet to work on the dress pinned to the mannequin. She preferred working in her home studio over the one at the school or the theatre. Sometimes that happened, sometimes it wasn’t possible but Hadley loved designing more than she worried about cramped or loud spaces. She was setting her own things on the front table when the other girl cursed. Hadley looked up to see the cause for the commotion and noticed pins scattered across the table and probably the floor. It happened, just like everything else did; which was why Hadley had a magnetic pin cushion, and a few more stashed in the desk at the front. They were easier to use and with it flipped on its’ top, picked up the pins for her.

Without a word, Hadley grabbed one of the spares she kept and brought it back. “Here, this will help make the job easier.” She said, holding the magnetic pin cushion upside down over a small pile and watched as they attached themselves to the plastic casing immediately. The pin cushion or pin block as Hadley often referred to it as was an ideal little tool for situations like these. And she knew first hand it worked. So she continued running the thing over a couple more spots before flipping it back over to hand to the other girl for her to try.

Tag || veronica trinity hart
Words || 815
Clothes || On The Way!
Music ||Porcelain --Marianas Trench
Notes || <3!

[veronica trinity hart]

Ronnie had never been a kid who had wondered where her life would go. It had just gone. She had started off in modelling, the focus in many a cute children’s photo shoot where there are pretty girls in pretty dresses in nice summer fields, and then when she was older it had turned from that into runways, and the fields had turned into more serious sessions in front of the camera where no one wanted the cute angelic smile, but rather the brooding pout that her mother had taught her to perfect by the time she was thirteen. Ronnie had always just gone with it until that fateful day when she had begun pointing out small design changes that would work better. The only reason she thought she got away with it was because so many of the designers were still terrified of her mother who was always lurking nearby to pick at something or yell at someone. However, one designer spotted the potential to bring Ronnie away from the runway and have her working on greater things. It was a brave move and one that did have him on the receiving end of a Madison Hart screaming fit, but he still told Ronnie that it was worth it. It was his fashion house that she unofficially interned at now, in a rather confusing twist of events after she had ended up in New York. She hadn’t needed work and he hadn’t needed an intern, but they wanted to work together and he wanted to mentor the young model as she transitioned to designer.

She was grateful for everything he did for her, but there was still a lot about Ronnie he couldn’t change. Like the hard partying she did just because she wanted to, or the way she still heard her mother’s voice in her head when she was dressing every morning. Still, he had saved her from ultimately turning into her neurotic mother, so Ronnie thanked him whenever she could. She still had no clue where she might end up in the future, but she did want her designs on the runway at least once before she left the earth, hopefully in a blaze of glory. Her father was a rockstar after all, so she had to go out with a bang sometimes. She took after him in many ways, too, but musical talent had gone to her brother and not to her. She liked to think the creative streak in her designs was from him though, and would occasionally cross to the side of punk in a sketch to honour him, since her dad might have been creeping to senior citizen but he still liked to party and act like he was twenty-one.

Ronnie definitely had his temper, and his foul mouth, but that had never been something she saw as a bad thing. She loved the bones of her father and even when he set out to embarrass her he couldn’t. If he was in the room when the pins scattered she was sure he’d make a reference to some old song, maybe pull out his own guitar to sing it to her, before ultimately helping his little girl clean up the prickly mess she’d made. He was on the other side of the globe though, touring still, and Ronnie thought she was in for a long clean up, until the magnetic pin cushion was introduced to her. She tossed it in her hand and smiled at the other woman, who she did recognise, but had never really been around. “Thanks. I usually have to lure an unsuspecting freshman in for something like this.” She said dryly, stooping to collect up the rest of the pins on the ground, tossing them all back into her case and closing it up. She had what she needed on the table now, and the rest could stay locked away.

• • •

TAGGED! Hadley Bronwyn Hastings
WORDS! 653!
OUTFIT! Glamour Gal!
LYRICS! Carry You Home - - James Blunt
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Hadley Bronwyn Hastings]

When Hadley moved to New York, she hadn’t even considered teaching. In fact, it hadn’t been a thought whatsoever. She hadn’t even entertained the idea when she’d been going through the stages of school because she’d wanted to do some serious hands on work in a theatre. She was good at what she did, she was a genius at it. Being a theatre costume designer was exactly what Hadley had wanted. She’d been shocked to realise she actually enjoyed teaching what she knew. She would never leave the theatre completely, she loved it way too much. Not to mention she had worked her ass off to climb the ladder as quickly as she had. Creating the elaborate costumes the actors wore on stage had been Hadley’s dream. And she’d made it come true.

Of course, she had a few people to thank for that but she wasn’t giving an awards speech, and they knew who they were. She wasn’t expecting a thank you at the end of the year when she said goodbye to that year’s students, she’d been a student once, not that long ago in fact, so she knew it was a usually thankless job. But it did give her a sense of purpose that she hadn’t had before about her passion. She could talk to Cheshire until she was blue in the face about it but she didn’t quite care about the clothing as much as a whole as she did her friend’s colour choices. The set couldn’t clash with the costumes after all and the pair huddled quite a bit, helping each other out with those little things that seemed so silly but really made a huge difference.

Hadley had lost count how many times she’d done something along the same lines. The room she kept strictly for sewing was hardwood flooring just so she could sweep up the pins she dropped. It was usually too much work to stoop down and gather them all when there could be hundreds on the floor and in that case at least thirty percent of them were jabbing you somewhere. It was a pain in more ways than one and Hadley had never been fond of that part of the job. “As excellent minions as they make, sometimes they’re just not around. And this is small enough to keep with your things.” Hadley said with a chuckle. “Mind me asking what you’re working on?” She asked, really unable to help herself. From what she could see, it was going to be gorgeous and well made with quite a bit of care. It was girl the other woman had quite a bit of potential and would be a force to be reckoned with when she was ready to step out on her own.

Tag || veronica trinity hart
Words || 505
Clothes || On The Way!
Music ||Porcelain --Marianas Trench
Notes || <3!

[veronica trinity hart]

Ronnie’s life was a whirlwind from the moment she had been born. Not that it was surprising given who her father was. Plus, she had met plenty of other children whose parents were famous and many of them had been through the same kind of hectic upbringing as she had. Others were kind of forced into living a very quiet and ‘normal’ life, but Ronnie couldn’t help but feel like those kids were shunned deliberately from the world they were born into, just for some opportunity at a regular school with kids from all over the city. She didn’t know for sure, but she felt that being kept hidden and avoiding the likes of the paparazzi for so long had to be much more exhausting than embracing it the way her family had done. Ronnie and her brother Kendall had considered photographers a nuisance, but they were the norm. Plus, Ronnie had gone into stardom herself at a young age given that she had taken to the catwalks when she was still just a lanky kid growing into the body genetics had gifted her with.

And now she was working on taking the things she had learnt and turning them into amazing designs. Ronnie had loved her time on the runway, but she wanted to work more behind the scenes. She had been more enthusiastic than most of the models at the shows when it came to altering things, mixing accessories beyond what had been picked out for her. That was how she had gained her entrance into the world of design. Moving to New York and enrolling in school was the next logical step, along with putting in the hours at the fashion house where she could have a little more freedom than her college classes allowed. They came with structure and a schedule that the students had to adhere to. For six weeks it would be one thing and then they would move on to something else. If Ronnie wanted to make something entirely different though, she could usually charm her way into doing it there. After all, she had a little more sway since she knew most of the staff after years of wearing their fashions before she was wearing a staff badge clipped to her bag.

If she could cut out school and skip straight to working for one of them, she would, but there were too many people who wanted to see fancy diplomas with her name scrolled across them before they would trust in her designs enough to actually employ her. Still, she supposed she enjoyed her classes, just not the early morning ones. Too many of them she had shown up to while her head was still pounding from the night before. “Until I lose that. Freshman are a little more complicated to misplace.” Ronnie joked. She was forever losing small things, be them hair pins or a hair brush. It happened on a regular basis with most of the things that she owned, but Kendall had always put it down to being ‘a girl thing’. Everything showed up sooner or later and usually in a spot that made little sense to Ronnie. “Formal wear.” She said simply, twisting at her waist to reach for the sketchpad behind her where the drawing of her design was. The emerald dress she had sketched from three different angles and then a fourth showed both bottom and then the top up close and more detailed. It was easier to show what something was supposed to look like than try to explain it.

• • •

TAGGED! Hadley Bronwyn Hastings
WORDS! 600!
OUTFIT! Glamour Gal!
LYRICS! Carry You Home - - James Blunt
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Hadley Bronwyn Hastings]

Hadley didn’t know where life would have led her if she hadn’t been at the theatre that day all those years ago. The likelihood that she’d be right where she was, was actually pretty high. She had been drawing clothes and costumes long before her and Casper had spent that day at the theatre while their mother rehearsed the play she’d been cast in. It just so happened to also be the day the head of the wardrobe department needed an assistant and she showed enough promise on paper to be dragged away; literally. It had really been inevitable that she would switch her coloured pencils for cloth and thread, for buttons and pins. That, or she would have somehow become some sort of avant-garde artist. But she’d been there that day and she’d been dragged off, spilling her coloured pencils all over the chair she’d been in and the floor around it and the rest was history. Though she did have to promise her desserts for a week to her brother for cleaning up after her.

Of all the turns she could have taken though, she’d never pictured herself a teacher. At least not immediately. She thought perhaps she might do as Mattie had done and bring someone under her wing; someone who showed potential but lacked the skill to get there on his or her own. Hadley had gained the skills quickly, absorbing it all like a sponge and by the time she was saying hello to college, she’d been creating half the costumes for the theatre herself, Matilda had trusted her that much. Hadley had been so pleased because there had been a time when she didn’t know if creating costumes and designing them would be what she really got to do with the rest of her life. She loved it so much but at the time, she hadn’t known if there were any jobs for it. Sure, she knew she could always go back to that theatre with Mattie and they would hire her on the spot, no interview required but Hadley wanted more than that. Call her greedy or whatever, but she wanted to prove herself outside of where she’d learned it all.

Hadley grinned, nodding her head. “That they are, though I found the sophomore’s tended to listen better, eager in their need to learn the ways of the upperclassmen.” She teased. “Alas, should you find yourself without a freshman or a sophomore to coerce into picking up the pins, there’s a dozen more of those things scattered in the desk. Feel free to grab another. I can’t throw throw a pin without it landing on one of those things.” Hadley added with laugh, mostly because it was true. She had been forever losing the single one she’d had and had needed the pins off it or needed to put the pins back on it so she’d gone out during one of her material hunts and bought a dozen of them just to scatter around the studio at the theatre. The little sewing kit in her bag just had one of the old cushions she’d found that was shaped like a rubber ducky. Hadley accepted the sketchpad and took a look at what the dress on the mannequin was going to look like when Ronnie was finished with it. And then she looked a couple more, curious. “These are very good, Ronnie. I can already picture them on the catwalk.” She told her, setting the book on the table.

Tag || veronica trinity hart
Words || 627
Clothes || Crazy Costumer!
Music ||Porcelain --Marianas Trench
Notes || <3!

[veronica trinity hart]

Ronnie was at college because she had a big mouth. There was very little more to it than that. Where most models did as they were told and took their criticism with their head held high before crying about it later, Ronnie had been different. She had a father who had taught her to argue back, to question things. If she didn’t like how something looked then she offered up alternatives. She had rarely been bratty about it though. She had tried to keep in line with what she knew, picking things from the same designer, switching with other girls. Some didn’t like it, others didn’t mind it. She knew she had a little more leeway because of her mother, but Ronnie doubted that would have changed how she was anyway. She was always feisty and never the type to do anything that made her uncomfortable; even if it was wearing a necklace she thought was too flashy for an outfit. However, all of that attitude had led to her turning her back on the catwalk to play designer, and now she was on her way from playing at it to making it something real. That meant something. She didn’t want to live in the shadow of a former supermodel mom and a rock star dad forever. She wanted her name to be something of its own value.

She knew she had talent. She had been told that enough. However, Ronnie wanted more than praise over a few sketching and some pieces she had thrown together at a sewing machine. She wanted the world to see her designs in New York, Paris, Milan. She wanted to have her own catwalk, her own models wearing her clothes. Ronnie wanted to be up there with the greats in twenty years, maybe even less if wishing on stars ever led to anything outside of Disney movies. She was the type who believed in the wild and crazy simply because of her parents. They had both done it, so why couldn’t she? Of course, their paths had been different to hers. She had been born into the spotlight. Her dad had announced her birth on stage in Madison Square Garden’s when she was just a few days old, screaming her name to a crowd who probably didn’t give a damn about a newborn and dedicating one of his band’s biggest hits to the bundle of joy who already had him wrapped around her little finger. That hadn’t changed one bit, and he still said that was her song twenty-two years later. It was a strange story to someone who hadn’t lived that lifestyle, but Ronnie considered it normal to have musicians and celebrities lounging in the living room at the family home on a Monday lunchtime. Some had helped her skip school once or twice back in the day.

They might even wear her designs someday soon. She already designed the t-shirts and the merchandise whenever her dad toured these days. He swore he was never going to retire, and the band said the same, even if they were wearing laughter lines like the latest designer trend. “Just get any guy passing by and bat your eyelashes. They’ll pick up pins for months then.” Ronnie shrugged casually, laughing lightly. She had used her looks and flirtation to get such a task done once or maybe twice. There were times when it came in useful to look pretty and have legs that went on forever. She had learnt that a very long time ago, or at least it felt like that. Ronnie shrugged at the compliment. She never thought of herself as an artist. She had never drawn before she had looked into fashion design and there were times when her sketches were rough and nothing compared to the finished pieces. She worked better with the fabrics. “Thanks, but I’ll be happier when they’re done and real.” She said with a small, skewed smile.

• • •

TAGGED! Hadley Bronwyn Hastings
WORDS! 663!
OUTFIT! Glamour Gal!
LYRICS! Carry You Home - - James Blunt
NOTES! <3 <3 <3