Wishes Come True... Right?

A great man once said, if you could dream it, you could do it. Well, Venus was convinced that Mr. Disney must’ve been on drugs. Or drunk. Most likely completely off the rails. She couldn’t imagine any sane person claiming a statement filled with such absurdity and ignorance. In some ways, absurdity and ignorance were humanified in the form of Venus’s beloved apparel fashion designing professor, Javerson.

Dressed in a striped shirt, and formal black pants, Javerson was one of the best fashion designers in New York City. Being part of the third-gen, he ruled the industry with his chic yet unique outfits and runways. His execution, wearable, sometimes sustainable were key factors that made Javerson unbeatable. However, after losing the biggest lawsuit to Gucci, Javerson went bankrupt. Currently, he took up teaching at Stanford for a special fashion design program while building his brand name from scratch.

Venus had admired his works the moment she laid eyes on a particular 70’s British culottes outfit with an oversized white winter coat and a single blue crop top underneath. That converted her into the pave way of fashion. Without hesitation, she had submitted her application for the program and miraculously got in. She wanted to live her dreams, because hey if you could dream it, you could do it but…

“What is the meaning of this, Miss Stinx?” His authoritarian voice boomed throughout his office. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the polished ash desk.

The effect left Venus quivering nervously, report file in her shaking grip. All the confidence vanished the moment she made eye contact with the one person she admired her entire life.

“Javerson, sir, please consider my submission. I’ve included detailed planning and even cost budget breakdown to justify why it would be effective to host a runway at The Plaza,” Venus rambled in a soft voice. Her words kept tumbling out, becoming even softer and inaudible as opposed to her heart clashing loudly against her ribcage. Threatening to be freed.

Javerson held a hand upwards, silencing the struggling fashion student. He sighed disappointedly, taking the file out of her hands as he flipped through each and every page. His hands were gentle — tracing across each hand-drawn line, to caressing the printed words on the paper. Yet his face remained stoic, emotionless just like the reputation, “Pokerface”, he had infamously earned during his glory days in the industry.

Venus visibly shivered. The thought of landing on Javerson’s bad sides was terrifying to imagine. Suddenly, he slammed the report down onto his desk, twirling in his office seat to fully face Venus. Broad shoulders, intimidating glare, and his lack of hair only heightened his sharp features. Venus gulped.

“I’ll accept this, but I will take away fifty percent from the final grade,” He said, probing his elbows over his desk. Fingers lacing with each other. Venus’s heart, almost to the brink of leaping out of her chest, had shrunk to the size of a pea as hollowness was the only thing she was processing.

“That’s just as good as failing me, sir! Please, reconsider—” Before Venus could complete her sentence, (what is up with everyone cutting her off today?), Javerson held his hand up again. All he did was point towards the door while looking disinterested at her.

Venus nodded, thanking her professor for his time, and left the office without another complaint. Once the fresh air hit her, tears were already flowing down her cheeks. Venus Stinx wasn’t an emotional person.

She was a Barbie doll, created to appeal accordingly to everyone’s desires — wealth, beauty, and most of all, influence. There were shortcuts she knew that would’ve worked. Offering a huge sum of capital would’ve solved Javerson’s burnt career. Or initiate a quickie offer that she had heard other students had done for the sake of a passing grade. But shortcuts felt too cheap to Venus, the victory of it never fully satisfying her passion.

Plus, being in a fashion design program made Venus feel something real. Like she finally could work for something, instead of having everything served on a silver platter. All her life, she had wanted one thing — her parents’ return. Years and years of yearning for her parents to come back. With time, the hunger and desperation for their presence faded and Venus felt like an empty husk. Until she saw Javerson’s works. Until it hit her that she could easily build up her own life, her own brand. Become her own version of Venus Stinx, and not what the news had portrayed her and her family line. She wasn’t going to be that forgotten Stinx girl, and being here in Stanford was enough evidence of that.

Venus wiped the tears away roughly, not caring that her eyelids might be swollen red. Her chest felt hollowed and was badly craving for her best friend’s presence. Javerson’s office was located in the Arts faculty, only two blocks away from the South Cafeteria. Yet, the detour Venus took had been therapeutic. With the dimly lit hallways and questionable moanings in the nearby bushes, Venus was able to ground herself positively. Being able to wallow in her campus’s beauty was a privilege that design students were robbed of. Unlike the business or science students, the art students were always cooped up in their workshops. Always sewing away, or tinkering with machinery, or even missing days of livelihood for the sake of a thirty percent overall grade.

While she was cutting around the corner, she saw a figure in the distance. The figure was a walking paddle pop disaster, covered in neon hues of orange, and pink green. The silhouette of the outfit was breathtakingly red carpet material, not something you expect to be worn in school! It was weird how no one in their right mind would consider neon orange, pink, and green to be complimentary with short bob blonde hair and purple eyes.

Venus ran towards the crazy colour mischief and collided with them to the ground. One was screaming for help, and the other was laughing her chest off. Who cared that her Ugg sandals were potentially dirty by the mud, or that her Louis Vuitton bag probably landed slightly too hard for comfort. The morning had been exhausting and all Venus wanted right now was her best friend.

“C’mon Vee, get off me!” The shrill voice pleaded, not that Venus cared. Her voice was much more bearable when it was muffled, even if Venus was putting half of her weight on top of the smaller girl.

Venus laughed even more, and eventually got up. They collected all their stuff that sprawled all over the dampened grass, with a few casual nudges and giggles.

“Gosh, I’m so glad to see you Liv! Javerson was such a bitch,” Venus ended up grumbling, face scrunching up at the sure fact of her failure for the semester.

Even though Venus managed to calm herself down, it didn’t mean she would feel any better. Looking towards her companion, she recognized the outfit. It was part of a streetwear collection, a collaboration between an iconic Korean designer and Tommy Hilfiger. Yet, the collar of the shirt dress was too high for Liv’s proportions. If Venus had the typical model height, then Liv was a modernized smurf. Although, her height had never stopped her from wearing the clothes she wanted. And that was one of the reasons why Venus enjoyed Liv’s presence. They were practically two peas in a pot.

Liv casually linked their arms together before her shrill voice ensued, “Javerson’s always been a dipshit, but hey at least he accepted your submission, right?”

This earned a groan out of Venus, “Yeah but he’s taking fifty percent off the total grade. Wouldn’t it be better if he failed me instead?” Her head hung low, finally realizing the impact of her words. Cursed the cold weather and her lack of discipline thereof.

“Knowing Javerson, he might offer you an even better alternative. Plus, you’re his favourite, just wait it out girl,” Liv said, pulling Venus forward.

Hearing the word, “favourite” cheered Venus up a little. She smiled, allowing herself to get dragged by her best friend as they made their way towards the South Cafeteria. Just by being with Liv, everything always seemed brighter, more lucid with a splatter of contrasting colours. Some people found Liv obnoxious and a “bad influence” but that wasn’t the case for Venus. Venus had known Liv since they were kids, although Liv’s family line wasn’t half as wealthy as the Stinx. That never mattered to both of them, where they had grown up and bonded over their passion for fashion.

Yet, at the back of her head, Venus kept hearing a feminine voice chanting how it would’ve been better if she ceased to exist. There was no way that wishes could come true.

Or could they?