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The Right Web Designer is Only the First Part of the Job

2 Responses to “The Right Web Designer is Only the First Part of the Job”

1. Joey says:

   February 19, 2010 at 11:31 pm

   Advice on the first part of my story? Please read =)?
   The biggest problem with being a fashion editor is that you constantly ask yourself the same question, the cheesy and most clichéd question known to women- what am I going to wear? Your friends are getting together for a party. You are going clubbing on Friday night. You want to look your best for a hot date. Actually, skip that last one. What am I, an adolescent? It’s hard for me to face the fact that I am a 35 year old woman. Eventually, I decide on a dress from the shoot we did in Malawi for last month’s cover. I have always had a petite figure, so the dress doesn’t have the same effect on me as it did on the beautiful, curvy model. It hangs off me oddly, bunching about the waist. My slim wrists look ultra skinny in comparison to the shock of the bright blue. Ah well. Like it or lump it. I slide into my killer heels. Stilettos always make me feel important even on the worst days. I grab the snakeslide purse and run down the road. I am not exactly the essence of grace. I am hardly a role model. I ram open the door of the building and almost collide with Dacota. He looks down at me over his glasses. “Are you alright there, Willow?”
   “Fine.” I blush. He isn’t austere and strict as such, but I always get embarassed when I’m around him. He carries an authority which I find difficult to deal with. Finally, I reach my desk without sustaining too many injuries. I sit down on my swivel chair, and spin myself around thoughtfully.
   Valentia, darling Valentia, has brought me a cup of coffee. I sigh in relief. She brushes back her short, fluffy blonde hair and gazes at me. I rub my sore eyes. “Here,” says Valentia. “You’re going to need this.” Valentia is a short woman with wide eyes and an appraising mouth; my secretary. But she has an irritating tendency of acting like my counsellor, or mother. Mother. “Oh, God, I forgot to ring her,” I groan. “Valentia, could you send a bouquet of flowers to my mother’s house? I would like a message in them. Just write ‘good luck.’”
   “I’m on it,” she laughs. “I cannot believe that you forgot again.”
   Having a mother that is a film star isn’t exactly easy. My school days were flooded with requests for signatures. Everybody looked at me knowingly and asked whether I wanted to pursue a career in the theatrics. I always denied this, and they all went off, tutting and disappointed. I have never desired to be an actress, which sounds stupid. I mean, that’s what most people want, right? I am pretty good at drama and I was selected a lot for school plays, but that was mainly because of my relation to the world of movies. My life-long dream has always been to be a fashion editor. Or a designer. To be honest, any thing that involved ditching my home and entering the big wide world of London. And I got it. So that’s that.
   “By the way, there is a man in reception who wants to see you.”
   “Send him up,” I say. I gulp down the tea as if it is youth potion. I stare into the mirror and inspect my wrinkles. I am not getting any younger, I know that. My face is still very youthful, but it is losing its cheeky smile and bright eyes. If only I could just turn back the clock… “Hello.” There was a man standing at the door. He had the most beautiful mouth.
   Yes, I know. That sounds stupid, ridiculous and downright weird. Most people rave about the colour of some one’s eyes, their glossy hair, their high stature. Not their mouth. But oddly enough, that was the one thing that drew me to him. His mouth was small, slightly parted, and very red. From a distance, you would think that he had worn lipstick. He had a woeful, sorrowful way of looking at you, his eyes soft and round, his head tilted just a little bit down. He wore a long sleeved business-like shirt and unfashionable grey trousers which made him resemble a reincarnation of an office worker. I knew automatically that he was different. Some one who would make an impact on my life. I just didn’t know how. His emerald green eyes flash at me and he smiles in an absolutely charming manner.

   Please read and review!
2. XxLoVeXxMeXx says:

   February 20, 2010 at 4:33 am

   its good but make the reader want more. describe her childhood first liek: ive always wanted to be a fashion editor. then the last line of your story. Ive always wanted to be a fashion editor
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