[ belle ] the infamous.

[zooey brandon elle]

"dirty, pretty, new york city"

What to do, what to do. Could it really be that hard to find something? It shouldn't be, not for Zooey. One of her pet peeves was being bored, though. Currently sitting on her couch at her house, she was surrounded by pencils. Not the regular school kind either. Sketch pencils. In her lap sat her thick and worn sketch book as well, and she had just finished a drawing of a dock. The kind one would see in Nova Scotia or someplace like that. Her picture was complete with the docks themselves, ships, birds, crates and a few people here and there. Looking at her hands as Zooey set down her pencils, they were covered in lead. That was done by smudging for the effect of shade and different lighting. Sighing, she stood up as the pencils around her fell to the floor and in the couch cushions. Walking to one of a few bathrooms, she ran the hot water and began to wash her hands.

Looking down at her clothes, Zo realized that it too was covered in lead smudges and eraser bits. Not too good. Another small sigh escaped her lips as it hit her. She needed to go shopping! Her wardrobe was getting kind of the same way, covered in paint, pencil, clay, and other mediums that she used to create her visions. After drying her hands, Zooey walked into her large bedroom. Time to change and go to 5th Avenue. She had been saving up too, so she could spend some of her own moeny. And not just her fathers. Closing the doors behind her, Zooey went to her closet. Maybe Parker would come... But to tell the truth, she didn't even know where Parker was. The teacher of twenty seven pulled out a light floral dress, and a brown belt from the top shelf. Taking them over to her bed, she stripped off her 'artist' clothes and slipped the dress on. Then wrapping the belt around her waist, she did it up tightly. It looked alright to her, so it was set. No more changing. That was a good thing about Zooey, she didn't take hours changing. Going over to her big mirror, Zooey examined herself. Not bad, she thought. Looseing the belt a bit, and hen setting it off on an angle, she smiled. It was finished. Tousling her hair a little, she walked out of her room.

In a matter of one half of an hour, Zooey had left the house, hailed a cab, and was on her way to 5th Avenue. She was almost at her destination as well. Looking out her window, she watched everything go by. People, places, animals and vendors. She really loved New York. The scene gave her an idea for a painting. Damn, she thought. She wished she had of brought her sketchbook for aquick thumbnail of the beautiful area. Not a traditional beauty, either. It was dirty, gross, ugly... But in the same way it was beautiful. Strange to think about. Pulling up to the first store of her choosing, Zooey paid the cab driver, winked at him and then exited the cab. With her purse in tow, she walked into the building. First she hit the sale rack at the back of the store. All the stuff there was still expensive, but she found she liked the styles better then the clothes at the front. Pulling a few shirts and shorts here and there, and then some dresses, she walked around the store with her mind set on creating a masterpiece through her fashion.

[annabelle sophia callahan]

`tell me all that i want to hear,

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[ click for clothes ]

She looked to the watch on her wrist. It was black, the wristband braided neatly with two leather pieces. The design was intricate, beautiful, and so simple all the same. It had Annabelle staring at it not just to check the time of day, but the art of it all. Somebody had to create that design. Though it was simple, they had to do it. It was amazing to her how beautiful something so simple could be. So miniscule. She sighed and picked up the last of the three california rolls on her plate with the wooden chopsticks and ate it within two small bites. This was her lunch for today. Belle wasn't much of a food person. It wasn't that she starved herself, it was just that she wasn't very fond of eating. Her stomach was rather small, and it came as no surprise since she was on the thin side of body frames. She wasn't really anorexic-looking thin, but rather ... fit, if you will.

Not that she wasn't ever anorexic. She was, at one point. But only because her mother had forced her into believing that whenever she ate, she was a failure. Who cared about truth, anymore? It was all about manipulation, right? Putting the wrong thoughts in people's heads. Annabelle despised this idea. She wished all of the people who lived by it to wake up and smell the coffee, because letting yourself hurt your friends and family was basically dying. To Annabelle, it was. She prefered to live in a world of color and vibrance; creation around every corner. She let herself spread the idea that life was art, as it was. If you took it that way, then it was, and that was that. Those blue eyes took everything in with an open mind. There was creation everywhere. Endless possibilities for creation. Whoever couldn't see it obviously was blind, because the world was an introspective place full of wonder and light. At least, to Belle it was.

Belle got up out of her chair and walked towards the sink, placing the dish in the dish washer. She passed a few pieces of her work, hung up on the walls. Belle was both a photographer and artist, but most of all she was a creation. She had built herself up to be one, in fact. Being one to fuss with boredom, she checked the watch once more. Instead of taking in just its art, she decided to graciously accept the track of time it offered her. It was around noon and she had plans to go shopping. Fashion was a big thing with Belle. She had actually considered majoring in that instead of art, but decided against it. Art had much more expandable ideas and quite frankly, she enjoyed it a lot more.

She locked her bedroom door behind her, and did the same for the apartment door. She shared a living space with one of her best friends, Lauren Lexington, or as she called her; Lo. She was a bubbly blonde girl that Belle seemed to get along with quite well, and she wasn't all that bad of a housekeeper. She kept everything neat, like Belle liked it. Annabelle was classy, sheek, and passionate. She had no time to be messy, she wouldn't tolerate it. Belle hailed a cab, picking out Fifth Avenue as her destination. It always held such promising things. Besides, she heard that Brella's (a New York designer that had opened her shop just a few years ago) had a clearance sale going on. It was odd for a designer store, but sometimes you just had to get rid of the creations that you held no space for anymore. Belle was one who knew that all too well.

The breeze from the window made the trip a little uncomfortable, and Belle shifted. The black leather was a cruel reminder that there are been many -- and possibly disgusting -- people before her sitting here as well. She squirmed just a bit, on the edge of her seat. The black denim that surrounded her legs was designer material, as was the fancy top she wore. The shoes weren't that expensive, but the bag was Chanel, as were her sunglasses. The jewlery was just from Mo's old box, so she wore it with pride knowing that it came from her sister. That was the truly priceless article of wear. Upon arriving, she stepped out - quite glad to escape the filthy prison she was in - and looked around before moving towards the store. Inside, she walked to the back of the store, her hand propped in the air to support her purse. Belle walked with grace and ease.

It was times like these were she wished she had a better camera than the portable one she stored in her purse. So many things could come out of such little views. It was amazing to her. She began to flip through the rack to find something that called out to her. She took out a few blouses and some dark blue jeans that she liked. Belle continued around the store, looming in the back until her eyes rested upon eyes worthy of her own color. Zooey Elle, her art teacher (and quite good, yet secret, friend) stood in front of her, scooting clothes hangers across the rack, visions filling her eyes as they did Belle's. She walked to her, grabbing something off the rack before looking up and smiling. "Hey, stranger."

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[zooey brandon elle]

"dirty, pretty, new york city"

Fashion was not something that could be rushed for Zooey. Unlike some people she knew, who could grab something, try it on and then buy it, she could spend a whole day shopping and end up with only one outfit, maybe two. That did include accessories as well. When she saw the pieces, she liked to think of a stor for each one. For example, a black leather skirt. Something she would wear? It all depended on her mood. But the stories she created were full of different ideas. The skirt could have been designed while in a very modern museum, for example, as the designer took in all the edgy and sharp visuals around them. They could have gone home and sketched it, and did so while having coffee or a smoothie in their home. Each article of clothing had a story, and they ran through Zooey's mind. Who knew what the the true story was? Not her, but she loved to think of some. It was rather like what she did when people watching. Picking out a random person, giving them a name, a personality, and a life. It could branch out into anything, just like her own life. Like the universe.

As she continued to search through the clothing, Zo knew she had all day. Nothing else had been planned for her, and she didn't have to be home right away. Parker could make her own dinner, she was sure. Or order it, in the Elle's case. Stopping at a loose top that fell into her hands, Zooey considered it. It was blue with crazy white patterns. Like an ocean, the milky way, or a sky with lots of clouds. Clouds on drugs, it would seem. Smiling to herself, she put it back. The pattern was too sharp for her liking. She favoured the softer appearances, even if they were very in your face. Smooth or blurry lines and curves was something she liked. When going out, sure she would try something different every now and again. But for her job and for day to day events, her instinct of smooth fahsion came first.

When Zooey shopped, she was in the zone. That was why she didn't notice her student come up to the same rack. More friend then student really, but no one had to know about that. Not that it was a secret, so if people in the store happened to overhear so be it. They just didn't flaunt it, like BFF plastered all over matching necklaces and bracelets. Annabelle was a promising student and Zooey loved her work, and her being a friend. Looking at the clothes in front of her, and creating more stories, Zo heard the voice speak up beside her. Hey, stranger. The blue eyes of Zooey glanced up, and her lips parted into a smile when she recognized the face and who she was talking to. Setting her hands on the clothes on front of her rather then continuing to browse, she nodded her head toward Annabelle. Long time no see, She greeted her. It had been a while since they had talked, school being out and all for the summer. On the computer they chatted a bit, but since their last conversation it had been a week or so.

Her smile getting even bigger, and her piercing blue eyes wider, Zooey was thrilled to see such a person who was in tune with her creative side, and who had so much to offer to the world of visuals and art. Art in any form, of course. Belle understood how Zooey's mind worked, and vice versa. Although each girl didn't fully comprehend because their minds were incredibly complex. How is your mind, and being? She asked sincerely, wanting to know how the level of each was. It wasn't just how the person was, it was how the person and the world around them was. Their whole existence, plus body, mind and soul.