Ignore the troll as usual

And yes, I had a dictionary open to the letter "v" for this chapter. On a side note, I have visited a few fashion shows in my career, and also been invited backstage to interview models and such, so while scenes in this chapter may not be representative the industry over, they're definitely not inaccurate either.

Cover Art: Serox

Chapter 19

"Vivian, is it?"

Jaune turned with a fake smile on his face to find two garishly dressed women approaching him with brightly painted eyes. He supposed it was a little hypocritical to call them garish when he looked like a rejected pimp had crashed into an opera accessories store and come out the worse for it. In fact, most of the fashion designers in attendance were, how should he say, uniquely attired.

Long fluffy gowns, puffy sleeves wide enough to take up two lanes of traffic and even one person who'd come in an outfit literally gender split down the middle. The left side of him wore a suit while the right wore a black ball gown. The clothing was about as functional as a razor wire pacifier and looked like they'd been designed by children with ADHD.

Or, as was more likely, he just didn't understand. It was Fashion. Not fashion. In the same way a banana duct-taped to a wall was apparently Art where Jaune would have called it food on a wall.

It was eccentric.

And thus, he had to be eccentric. If he wanted to stand out and draw the attention of Rosemary and Thyme, he had to be bold and striking. Not necessarily successful at it, but at least demanding of attention enough that they were interested. In fact since the goal was to make them poach one of his models away it might even work better if he did come across as a bit of an idiot. Not that was an area in which he excelled.

Turning to face the two women, each easily as old as his mother, Jaune swept an arm low in what might generously have been called a stage bow.

"Verily does Vivian Von Valk Volkvan stand before you. And I ask, what virtue has brought two vivid and vivacious women to vie for my attention? That I might vicariously gaze in awe and veracious wonder at such vaunted beauty fills the vast depths of my heart with joy"

Trifa looked at him like he'd gone insane.

"Oh my!" one of the ladies tittered and held out a hand. "You certainly have a way with words, Vivian."

Taking the hand he kissed the knuckles, aware of how the woman swooned dramatically. "Verbose and vociferous, it has been said, but if Vivian might vent in moments of verbiage, know it is when virtue vies for his vehement attention."

"Vivian!" the woman fanned herself fiercely. "Please, I'm an old maid." Giggling, she clung to her friend. "I'm Allison and this is Annabelle."

"Pleased to meet you," the other woman said with a more professional tone. "We're co-founders of Annabelle and Allison. You've probably heard of us."

A&A? It sounded familiar. Vaguely so. Given the setting, it had to be a fashion brand.

"Veritable veterans in this most vainglorious of industries."

"Yes. We've been in business for quite a while. We're here today to scout some of the latest designers for our brand."

"I'm sure we'll look forward to seeing your offerings, Vivian," Allison tittered. "You've already struck such a powerful chord. Then again, there are plenty of veterans here from the design and modelling world themselves. You must be nervous."

"I must most vehemently disagree," Jaune said loudly, aware of the attention aimed his way. Now or never. He eyed the other competitors dismissively. "To see such vamped-up vagabonds strut about and vulgarise the most venerated of industries vexes me. That a competition where varied and vaunted would vie for opportunity to vocalise their vision, to verify, validate and valorously vow to scintillate the virtuous, be reduced to a veneer of vainglory, of voluminous and vacuous vermin vying for veritable scraps of vacant glory and thinly veiled effort, vulgarly victimising those who would vindicate us all."

Jaune sighed loudly, granting the now silent hall a moment to ponder.

"My most vehement apologies, dear Allison." He raised her hand to his lips again. "To see what our world has become vexes me so. Forgive this verbose vomit of vitriol. Know only that Vivian comes not to vie for vainglory but for one purpose." His voice rose. "To vanquish vice and vicious vermin and give voice to those who are victimised!"

Releasing her, looking past her shocked and startled face, he eyed the rest of his competition. Rosemary and Thyme would be among them, and certainly now, they couldn't have failed to notice him.

"That is all."

Jaune and Trifa stepped away, leaving stunned silence in their wake. Cameras panned to follow them to the edge of the room, but none dared approach now. The message had been sent. War declared. In a fashion.

"Ugh," he groaned quietly. "I'm making puns in my own head."

"At least they're not alliterations," Trifa grumbled back. "What was all that? Do you even understand half the things you said?"

"Vaguely." Trifa raised a fist threateningly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to do it there. That one was an accident. I mean, what I said was technically all the truth. We're here for the victims, the silenced and the browbeaten, to give them voice."

"I guess we are." Trifa eyed him sharply. "Don't think that's permission to wax like this ever again. I refuse to be seen dating someone who speaks in third person or uses constant alliteration. Those are my two rules."

Jaune chuckled. "I'd need a dictionary to do it anyway. It worked, though. All eyes are on us."

/-/

"Oh! Oh! I've got goose bumps!"

Blake glowered at Coco as she shivered in the seat of their rented limousine. Rented by Ozpin and not by Weiss. It would, he claimed, sell the image Coco and Team RWBY were looking for. On the back of the divider between the driver and the passengers, a large TV showed the fashion show and the startling speech that had just captured the moment.

"It was just words," Blake said. "Words are cheap."

"Words have power!" Coco fired back excitedly. "Words can start or end wars, save or doom people, mislead or validate. They can send a man to jail for life or exonerate him. Words might be cheap, girl, but only when you let your words have no value. Those that stick to what they say, those that follow through on their threats. Well, those words aren't cheap at all. They're expensive. And powerful."

Irritation would have had her snapping back if not for the fact they were pulling into the driveway of the stately home the show was being hosted at. Coco was always going on about this guy – practically deepthroating him at times. Yang patted her shoulder supportively, but even she didn't understand why all this playing around made her so mad.

He just ranted with a load of words beginning with V. Adam's speeches were more powerful. He didn't waste his time with stunts like this either.

"What do you think he's doing there?" Ruby asked Coco.

"I think he's doing what he said – trying to draw attention to a failing industry that's started to focus more on profit than actually doing what it's supposed to do. Though given it's the White Fang, I'd also guess exploitative labour." Coco bent over the label of her jumper for them to see. "See this? It's a Fair Labour logo. Means this was made by well-paid workers. Most of the big fashion brands look to have those now, but that's big manufacturers. Wouldn't surprise me if these designers would bend the rules on their end and use cheap labour."

"That's not unique to fashion," Blake pointed out.

"It's not. That kind of thing happens all over the place, but if he can prove it here, he's doing so to every major fashion brand in the world. They're all either attending or watching this looking for the next big label. Doing well at a show like this can make your label. Or, if a little scandal popped up, kill it stone dead."

"Makes you wonder why no one tries that for the SDC." Yang said. "No offence, Weiss."

"Quite a bit taken – and the SDC doesn't have any real competition. We're not a monopoly but it's close enough that even if we got into trouble, people can't just stop using us. There aren't enough dust manufacturers without us to keep the four Kingdoms running."

That was something the White Fang were intimately aware of, especially during their peaceful years where the best arguments and proof they could legally give all went ignored in Atlas because, as Weiss said, the SDC was too important to let fail. The Kingdoms needed the SDC, and so it could get away with pretty much anything it wanted.

"We're here." Coco opened the door and ushered them out. "Right. Remember the plan. You four are models. You're going into the modelling area to look around and figure out who the White Fang plants are. Don't engage them. Looking at you, Blake. They're here peacefully and that means we have to be too. You can finish a fight if they start one, but not before."

"What do we do if we find them all?" Yang asked.

"Try and figure out what they're looking for?" Ruby guessed. "If we can do their work before they can, it shows Beacon is good."

"Bingo. Oh, I am so proud of you." Coco gushed and held onto Ruby's head, all but smothering her. "My little Rubaby is growing up."

"Oi!" Yang grabbed Ruby's other arm. "That's my Rubaby."

Coco tugged back. "Can't we share?"

"No. I raised her. She's mine."

"I'm… ah… no one's… gr… baby!" Ruby managed to break free and hide behind Weiss. "Can we go in and get this over already? We'll keep an eye on Blake. She won't start anything. I'm more worried about what m more worried about what you're going to do."

"Me?" Coco touched her chest. "My, how offensive. I'm not going to say anything. If I did, I'd only be giving a speech second to him. Makes me look like I'm playing catch up. No, girl. I intend to let my fashion do the talking for me. We're winning this thing!"

"You mean we're stopping the White Fang," Blake prodded angrily.

"Yeah, sure. That too."

/-/

For Sun, strutting around topless wasn't exactly a new experience. Other people being topless on the other hand was. Apparently, a lot of models didn't think much of nudity. It was probably because they were so often jumping in and out of different outfits, but whatever the case the main area of the backstage dressing rooms featured women walking around topless and men climbing in and out of trousers without a care for modesty. It had been a shock at first but, well, once he noticed how bored everyone else was about it, he just sort of fit in.

He was topless, so what big a deal was it if a woman walked by topless?

Honestly, it was more a shame to be in such a situation and feel so unexcited by it all. Luckily, they'd also been granted their own private changing rooms. One for each studio, mostly so they could keep their designs secret and avoid any claims of industrial sabotage. Apparently, that was a big deal in the fashion world. Ilia was busy hiding in there currently. She and Yuma weren't quite as unaffected by the nudity as he and Bane were. Bane didn't seem to care at all.

We're not going to find the people in trouble by hiding away because we're embarrassed, he thought. Tugging a loose shirt on, he walked among the models, maintaining his eyes above neck height as a gentleman should.

Neptune would have fainted by now.

There weren't many faunus among the models, he noticed. Only about three in total. Since that was the calling card of Subtle Spice, he gravitated over to one of them – a brunette faunus with long ears he at first thought might have been rabbit in nature, but soon realised were too angular and thick. A donkey faunus. The girl was pretty despite the unflattering animal type. Big brown eyes and smooth, unblemished skin. Thankfully, she was also dressed in a loose tee-shirt and some slacks.

"Hey there." Sun appeared in her mirror as she trimmed the fur of her ears. The woman blinked back at his reflection, clearly startled. "Didn't think I'd see more faunus here." He let his tail show in the mirror for her. "Nice to see more getting into the industry."

"Oh. Um. Yes." Stuttering at first, she soon smiled prettily and turned in her seat. He had the feeling she'd been more startled than shy about talking to him. The impression was reinforced when she stuck a hand out. "Nice to meet you. I'm Swan. I know it doesn't fit the ears. Blame my parents."

"Sun." He shook her hand, impressed with the firm grip. "And I'm not related to the sun either."

"Ha ha. I wouldn't know with that hair. And that skin." Her eyes dipped to his chest and she said, "Let me guess. Vacuo?"

"Born and raised. Been in Mistral recently, though. You look like a bit of a Mistral girl yourself. Got that exotic flair."

"I am!" Swan's smile faltered a little. "There weren't many opportunities in the modelling world back home, though. I had to come to Vale to get a chance. You know how it is." Her fingers tugged one ear down, flicking through her shortened fur. "Animal fur on the clothing, having to make holes for ears or tails." Her eyes followed his as it flicked back and forth. "Just getting someone to look at you when you're sporting animal parts is a nightmare."

"Tell me about it." He might have been lying about being a model, but it wasn't like he hadn't experienced his fair share of it. "At least yours are high up. I've had people step on my tail and call it my fault. And I have to cut holes in my own jeans."

"Hmm. There are some brands that fit faunus…"

"But they're so expensive," they finished as one. Sun laughed along with her. "Yeah, I know what you mean. How is having less material more expensive? And don't get me started on those `tail flaps` they've been trying to push. I don't need a dog flap on my ass. It as bad for ears?"

"Hats are a nightmare," she said. "And low hanging doorways."

"Well you are pretty tall," he pointed out. Swan was a good five foot ten or so, easily one of the tallest women he'd seen.

"It's what the brands like. Tall girls mean more verticality to work with. Whatever that means. I guess it just makes me look stick thin." Her fingers brushed over her stomach which was thin, but not the anorexic kind he'd seen on some people. Still, with how tall she was it made her look much thinner by contrast.

"What's it like over here?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "You're with Subtle Spices, right? I hear they do a lot of good things with faunus."

"A-Ah. Yeah." It was quick but he caught it. The flash of something in her eyes before she recovered. "It's a job, you know? They do plenty of stuff around faunus and it's nice to get a chance to show off on the catwalk. Inspiring to see faunus finally up there and know you're a part of it. Hopefully in a few more years it'll be a more common thing."

"Hoping so," he said honestly. "They good to work for? I've been considering a change…"

"They pay on time. About the best you can ask for. I'm sorry, Sun, but I need to get ready for the show." Smiling apologetically, she said. "Later…?"

"Yeah, sure. Hit me up if you want to talk." Best to let her go for now. He didn't want to push, and she obviously didn't want to talk about it. "I'll be rooting for you out there. Knock 'em dead."

Her answering smile was radiant. "You too, Sun! Good luck."

Sun made his way back to the Ivory Tooth private area, cracking the door open and slipping inside. Ilia and Yuma tensed and then relaxed on seeing him, though Ilia looked a little flushed for some reason. He really didn't see why. Surely seeing him and Yuma getting changed meant absolutely nothing to her, and it wasn't like they didn't have individual cubicles.

"Is Bane still out there?"

"Last I saw, being crooned over by about six women," Sun said. "Lucky guy."

"Lucky he isn't wearing leather pants," Yuma groaned. "Do you know how weird this is? I creak when I move. You can see your reflection in my ass." He turned, looking back over and between his wings. His leather pants certainly were very tight. And shiny. "At least you're wearing a full outfit, Ilia."

"It's feathers. It's all feathers."

"So? It covers you."

Ilia squirmed some more. "It… it itches…"

"Oh." Sun winced, imagining for a second how hundreds of feathers tickling your body might actually feel. It probably depended on which end was doing the tickling too. "Wow. You think what models have to wear is always this uncomfortable?"

"You saw that meat suit, didn't you?"

"I heard about it," he said. "Didn't see it. As horrible as it sounds?"

"Let's just say she wouldn't have survived a walk through a dog park." Yuma sighed. "I think it really is like this. I mean, I watched a fashion channel once. Ex-girlfriend," he explained when Ilia and Sun sent him shocked expressions.

Ilia's didn't dissipate upon the explanation. "Someone dated you!?"

"Funny, Ilia. Funny. At least I didn't ask my ex to dress up as another-"

"Does everyone know that story!?" Ilia shrieked. "Once! It happened once!"

"Everyone knows it." Yuma ignored her whimper. "Anyway, I remember watching it and… well, let's just say what they wear on the catwalk isn't always what you see on the shelf. Every now and then you'd get normal clothes, but you also get weird stuff. I remember seeing one woman wearing what I swear was just a plastic shopping bag. I could see her underwear through it – and only the bottom half. Her breasts were just hanging there, clear as the eye can see."

"You sure this wasn't a different kind of channel?" Sun asked.

"Dude. It was a real fashion show. I swear. It's weird!"

"Must be." Sun looked back. "I spoke to someone from Subtle Spice. Nice girl – real friendly. Just like Lisa said too, she's all for helping more faunus get on the catwalk and the like. Couldn't find work in Mistral. Turns out part of that is because of the fur on the clothing."

"Makes sense," Ilia said. "I bet it's a detractor too. Models tend to be kind of plain too. Not much make-up or crazy hairstyles. It's because the designers want the attention to be on the clothes and not the model."

"You thinking faunus are turned away because ears, tails and horns draw attention?"

"Might be."

Sun hummed. It was a possible explanation. "Anyway, she was chatty right up until I started asking about Subtle Spices. Didn't have anything bad to say about them, but when I started to act interested in working for them, she clammed up real quick. Said she'd talk to me later. After the show."

"Sounds like she was trying to warn you off," Ilia said. "Maybe she wants to meet where her employers can't hear her to tell you to find work elsewhere."

That was the impression he'd got. Swan hadn't really said anything bad about them, but she couldn't right now. Inviting him to talk later was a chance to speak more candidly and cutting off any topic about him joining might have been the same. It wasn't proof – at least not the kind Lisa could act on – but it was a hint that there was more going on than met the eye.

"Any idea on how to get her to open up?" he asked Ilia. "Other than, you know, lying to her face."

"Wear her out?"

Sun frowned. "Ilia…"

"Not like that, idiot! I mean the show." Ilia waved toward the door. "Bright lights, constant outfit changes and having to go in and out, in and out. Try and talk to her again during a break period. See if she lets something slip when she's a little tired."

Hm. That didn't sound like a bad idea.

"We have a problem." Deery's voice came through their hidden earpieces. Everyone paused to listen. "I just saw Beacon arrive on the scene."

Yuma swore and got to his feet. "How many of them?"

"Five, and they're not going in armed. They… I think they signed up to compete."

Beacon was competing in the fashion show. The `why` hung in the air and no one had an answer, least of all Sun. He did eye the door to the backstage area nervously, though. Going out there now might be a risky proposition.

"Is… Is Blake there…?" Ilia asked nervously.

"The one you're crushing on? Yep. Talk about a grumpy cat."

"Blake is here. Blake is here." Ilia took in long gulps of air. "I can't go out there. What if she finds me? What if she corners me? What if – What if she's getting changed? What if she's topless out there right now?"

Yuma sweat dropped. "You want me to check?"

"No! No one is allowed that honour!"

"You have problems, Ilia."

"I know! I'm on the White Fang and she's a traitor – it's a classical forbidden romance. And I'm allied with the guy who killed her ex-boyfriend. Do you think she'll hold that against me?"

"Okay, first of all that's not the problems I was talking about. And secondly, you don't need to worry about the Adam angle," Yuma laughed. "Trust me, my exes would call you best friend if you killed me."

"That isn't something to boast about!"

"Sure it is. It means they want me so bad that if they can't have me, they'd rather no one does. Right?" Yuma looked to Sun for backup. "That's what it means, right? Besides, it's Adam! Every day was a question of who would want to kill him. I'm surprised he wasn't hit by a meteorite just so some cosmic entity could claim dibs. The path is open. Go get some pussy."

"Yuma!"

"I meant cat faunus. Sheesh, Ilia. Dirty mind much?"

/-/

Jaune and Trifa also heard the communications from Deery and Perry. Tukson tapped his arm from behind and nodded to the side, fitting the bodyguard role well. A young woman had just entered the manor, only a little older than him. Brown hair, black shades and a smile so confident he wouldn't have been surprised if she could take everyone in the room.

"Huntress," Trifa whispered.

"I see her. I think we've seen her before when we bust Tanner."

"She was leading that team of huntresses. You think she's – damn it. She's seen us. Don't run," she hissed, grabbing his arm. "If she does anything here, she's putting everyone in danger. We have every right to be here."

"Trifa, we have no right to be here."

"Arguably, I mean. Too late."

"Well, well, well." The brunette strolled up to them, paused and pushed her shades down to stare at him with bright brown eyes. Her lips curled up into a sly smile. "If it isn't Vivian Von Jaune Arc-van." Offering her hand, she teased. "Do I get a kiss?"

Plastering on a smile he didn't feel, he took her fingers and ghosted his lips over her knuckles.

"A pleasure, huntress."

"Coco. Call me Coco. And no alliteration for me? I'm hurt."

"I did not wish to vex a versed and valiant defender of our virtuous Kingdom."

Trifa groaned loudly.

Coco's grin only grew. "A connoisseur of the covert should be more conscientious. Lest a capricious lady convince herself she isn't up to the calibre of your compliments." Stepping into his space, her cheeky smile stretched wider still. "Comprehend me, criminal?"

"Trifa thinks this tandem tautology talking is tacky." the spider faunus grumbled.

"No appreciation for the classics," Coco bemoaned. Her hand took his, drawing him away from Trifa. "Dance with me."

"What? There's no dance floor. Or music!"

"I move to my own rhythm. Come on, make a scene with me." Yanking him forward, she capitalised – damn it, he wasn't doing it on purpose – and pulled his left arm around her waist. By then it was too late to pass it off as an accident without looking the fool, so he stepped into the dance, holding her right hand in his, their legs moving together as several people began to clap excitedly.

"Is this where you arrest me?" he asked nervously.

"Only if you try and cop a feel. We're playing nice today – so long as you do." Coco twirled him around, clearly leading the dance as he struggled to keep up. "I wasn't originally planning to confront you, but I decided the direct approach might work better than subtle hints. I'm of the opinion that opponents don't have to be enemies. What do you think?"

"I agree. I don't have any problems with Beacon."

"Hmm. Beacon has problem with you, but only when you're doing your `more illegal business` as it were. Let's drop the charades," she said quietly. "I'll do you the respect of saying we're not here to start any fights. Will you return that?"

"We're investigating Subtle Spices modelling." He knew Lisa was listening in and could just imagine her groaning at his response. Coco looked surprised at the honesty too, which was a good thing. It meant she wasn't seeing him as a terrorist. Maybe he could prove it to her, and through her, Beacon and the wider authorities. It couldn't hurt to try. If it kept Beacon from attacking him, it'd do the opposite of hurt. "We've reason to believe they're taking advantage of faunus trying to get into fashion. Impossible contracts and the like."

"Huh. Is that so?" Coco and he parted, posed and then came back together to continue moving. "You're a good dancer by the way. I'm surprised a terrorist would know how."

"Seven sisters." They already knew who his family was. "There's a lot of hobbies split between them. Sable was into dancing at one point and needed a male partner. It was my dad when he was around and me when he wasn't."

"A master of many talents?"

"If you count talents as dancing, knitting, cooking, writing and paintball, then yes – and if you count `mastery` as having the vaguest idea of how to do them."

"Ha! I wonder what the world would think of the famous leader of the White Fang in an apron." Probably the same they'd think seeing the seven-foot mass of muscle that was Banesaw wearing one, and that was a daily occurrence. "Still, I appreciate the candid confession." Her wink earned a roll of his eyes. "I'm happy to put this on for the sake of the game, but if you actually try to hurt those girls I'm looking after, well, let's just say Ozpin didn't put me in this spot just because I know how to gab."

This was a huntress from the upper years of Beacon. He knew well what that meant. "We'll only fight in self-defence. As long as they don't attack us first, we have no problem. You do good work," he said. "I wanted to be a huntsman myself."

"Really? Could have been fun. What happened?"

"I ran into Adam Taurus."

"He recruited you into the White Fang, huh?"

"In a manner of speaking…" Holding her close, they slowed down until they were swaying toward the end of an imaginary song. It gave him a chance to whisper in her ear. "I don't want to be a terrorist. I'm not trying to hurt anyone."

Coco's hands came up over his shoulders almost romantically. "I want to believe that. Maybe I do. All I'll say is actions speak louder than words. You're doing well – I have a teammate who's a faunus and even if she won't admit it, I'm glad to see the White Fang not being monsters for a change."

"I'm trying my best to change things."

"Yeah? I won't say it's not a good look. Personally, I think it might be working. Might. Part of me is hoping you prove me right, but until then, we're still opponents. Like I said, though. That doesn't have to mean we're enemies. I can fight against someone I don't hate. This doesn't have to be personal."

"I don't hate you," he said honestly. "I don't hate Beacon and I won't harm your team."

"Thanks." Impishly, she kissed his cheek. Right next to his lips. It was so close in fact that he heard the startled gasps and awe from those around them, which meant she'd almost certainly planned it to look that way. He stood frozen until she drew back. "You're not the only one who can make a scene to draw attention by the way. Let's see how your recruitment goes when faunus think you're making out with a human."

"W-What…?"

"If you're as keen on redeeming them as you say you are, it shouldn't be a problem. Fits the image of the human-friendly White Fang." She patted his cheek and laughed. "And I'll pay you back with a little advice. From one PR specialist to another. Something you've probably missed that ought to help you out if you're honest with your intentions."

"Um." Jaune found his words with a stammer and a blush. "Sure. I won't say no…"

"Take a look at the masks you're making your people wear. There's a reason the White Fang chose Grimm masks when they turned to violence." Winking, she drew away. "It doesn't fit the image you're going for now."

With those parting words, Coco Adel pulled out his hands and walked away, hips swaying.

"We're gonna win this thing, by the way." Her voice wasn't just addressing him, but everyone in the room. "Vivian may have a more verbose set of verbs than me, so I'll say it loud and clear. Your fashion is drab, and your ideas are old. This is a two-horse race, and sad to say, the rest of you losers aren't up to speed." Laughing, she flicked her hand in the air and walked away. "Try not to slow us down."

In the corner of the room, a pair of twins scowled and made their way to the changing rooms.

Coco going on the assault. The twins aren't the Malachites by the way. Just to make that clear. It's the Rosemary and Thyme twins. Yes, Jaune with the V is a play on V for Vendetta. Obviously obvious but played for parody.

Random Fashion Show Story - very skippable and not important for fic at all

I remember when I was interviewing at a fashion show and was backstage and everyone was just getting dressed in the same room. Men and women topless and not caring about it. I had to interview a woman having her makeup put on who was literally topless in front of my 18-year-old self. It was surprisingly easy to get used to once the shock wore off. Not even all that exciting since everyone just acted like it was normal and I started to as well.

Tell you what, though, she was snotty as hell. Like, so hard to talk to. This was over 14 years ago now, but I remember asking the usual questions about how she got into modelling, etc, and the answers were so fucking insipid. Stuff like "I knew from a young age I was more beautiful than everyone else". So arrogant. I did meet a few others who were super nice, but she was the big deal at the time because she won the "Miss Region" aware for the area the magazine I was working in was hosted. The runners-up were so nice and friendly and interesting, while the winner, ugh, just awful to talk to.

The shocking thing to me was that I didn't even think she was attractive. Bleached blonde hair, heavy make-up and stuff. I later got invited to judge one ( a few years later when I was an Editor and thus apparently had an opinion considered worthy of judging women for some reason – not even a women's magazine I was working for ) and found out the reason why, or at least what I assume to be why. The judges were councillors, business owners or other "semi-famous but not really" people from the region, and they were mostly men of age thirty and above.

I remember in that event I voted for the girl I thought was prettiest and who had the best personality based on those stupid questions, but some of the others were nervous about voting for her because she "looked young". Even though she was 18. They felt like by voting for her, they'd be called into question somehow. Weird since 18 is legal here too. Anyway, they voted for a girl who just looked older. She wasn't – they were all 18 – but she looked about twenty-five with all her make-up, etc. They voted for her and she won even though they all admitted the other girl was more deserving, just because they felt they'd be seen as weird if they chose someone who "looked young".

Kind of a shame really. I did tell the girl after as I felt bad for her and wanted her to know why she lost. Don't know if it helped or not. Not much I could do.

I've been asked to judge weird stuff. I've even been an official judge at the Nantwich Cheese Show once. That's a bigger deal in the food and drink industry than it sounds! I've also judged children's plays and theatre for some schools. Being an Editor of a local magazine sometimes involves strange stuff like that. The Cheese Show was for being Editor of an International food and drink magazine.

Next Chapter: 4th August

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur