Lili
She shouldn’t feel this good, even though Ashanti Mondrian sits across from her, regal in an architectural Lanvin top, a sculpted Comme des Garçons skirt, and towering McQueen heels, flanked by Élan West’s editorial team in their sleek, light-drenched office.
“We’ve been talking internally,” Ashanti begins, “and we see this as more than a feature. This is a statement. You’re not just showcasing a collection, Lili, you’re redefining what it means to be a woman of influence in fashion today.”
With a soft click, the screen lights up: a moonflower blooming in darkness, its white petals stark against the black. The caption reads: She opens at night.
Ashanti turns to Lili, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “The moonflower symbolizes strength born from stillness. She blooms in her own time and claims the night. That, to us, is the heart of your collection.”
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For a moment, Lili can’t speak. It’s exactly what she envisioned.
“I’ll let our creative director, Johan, take it from here,” Ashanti says, easing back into the steel-framed Cesca chair.
To her right, a gaunt man with silver-rimmed glasses and the bone structure of a giraffe stands up. His Helmut Lang suit is flawless; his expression, arctic.
“Visually,” he says, clicking to the next slide, “we’re pulling from the Saint Laurent Scandal campaign, circa 2017.” Another click. “Also referencing Galliano-era Dior—Spring 2004 couture. The tension of opulence and restraint.”
“We’re finalizing our model shortlist now,” Ashanti says, already reclaiming the spotlight. “We’ll tailor the casting to your vision, of course, but we already have a range of ideas.”
For a second, Lili doesn’t speak. She just stares across the Piero Lissoni table, quietly floored, suspended somewhere between disbelief and awe. She’s dreamed of this moment, but now that it’s here, it still feels like a dream.
Ashanti’s smile glows, just enough to feel magical, like she’s granting a wish. “What do you think, Lili?”
Lili glances at Gareth. Then Johan. Then back to Ashanti. Maybe, just maybe, her luck has finally turned. But even as she says it, none of it feels real.
“I think… it’s perfect.”