text
stringlengths 6
45.4k
| book
stringlengths 3
133
| pos
float64 0
1
| smog_index
float64 6.6
7.1
|
|---|---|---|---|
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.002149 | 6.6 |
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.002456 | 6.6 |
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.002763 | 6.6 |
Elmer's glue sticks changed their formula. They used to smell better, more toxic. More likely to get you high. I bet a bunch of fifth graders used to sniff and lick the shit out of them, and their mommies complained, so the company had to dial it down. They were barely usable now, but I still liked them; they were good for mood boards. Some people like to use pins for mood boards, but where was the dedication in that? The commitment? If you want to have a fucking mood, own it. Put some elbow grease into it. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.00614 | 6.6 |
I cut carefully along the photo, making sure to get her hair in. Her perfect fucking hair. I wanted hair like that. Long, cascading, blonde. My hair wasn't like that—it was just below my shoulders and dark brown. Too thick, too wavy. She had extensions in this shot. I know because I've sneaked into the same parties as her just to catch a glimpse. Her eye makeup sparkled; her lips were ultraglossy. She wore Gucci boots and supertight jeggings and carried a comically large bag by Céline. She wore her hair at different lengths during the week, courtesy of extensions. Later, I copied that look to a T. It was amazing what those bags could carry. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.006447 | 6.6 |
My mood board was filled with shots of Sarah out partying, going to fashion shows, beaming at the camera. She was an associate editor at _La Vie_ , and she was perfect. Her family was rich, she was gorgeous, and her closet would make you cry. She was the opposite of me. I didn't have photo spreads in magazines. I didn't have summer houses and beach cottages. I had barred windows as a kid and a paper cup full of pills. Now I had a small apartment, but it wasn't as nice as Sarah's. (There were photos online.) | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.006754 | 6.6 |
I wanted to hang out with her, wear her perfume, do nails with her. I wanted to have an old-fashioned slumber party at her giant apartment (in Tribeca). I wanted to go out to bars with her and let guys buy us drinks. I wanted her to text me nonsensical abbreviations and emojis and take selfies with me and make fun of everyone else. I wanted to work with her, and I would. (I had a meeting with _La Vie_ 's HR department next week.) I'd stared at photos of Sarah for years. We practically grew up together. Sarah at her fancy socialite galas, me in my sad rooms at school. We were _connected_ , thanks to all her photos, which appeared in every society and Manhattan mag you could find. I wanted to be Sarah's one and only true friend. I wanted to be loved by her so much that I could taste it. I hated myself for it just a bit. I was aspiring. I picked up a glitter pen and wrote _Sarah Taft_ at the top of my board. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.007061 | 6.6 |
We were going to be BFFs. That meant forever. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.007368 | 6.6 |
Three blonde PR girls with iPads stood behind a velvet rope, slowly checking people in. I waited for one to glance up. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.015349 | 6.6 |
"Oh, hold on! Lauren, we totes need a selfie. We're twinsies!" She called to a younger, even blonder girl, also wearing a headset. I sighed. The girls converged for a group shot, ignoring the line of impatient partygoers. I cleared my throat. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.016577 | 6.6 |
"One second, babe." One of them called to me, holding up a finger. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.016884 | 6.6 |
I wanted to bite that finger off. Finally, after ten or so flashes, the girls turned back. I forced a smile. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.017191 | 6.6 |
"Sorry! Had to post to Insta! Okay, what's your name again?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.017498 | 6.6 |
I ground out each letter. She popped her gum while typing into her iPad. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.017805 | 6.6 |
I could hear Celia Avery's voice in my head: _A_ La Vie _woman doesn't wait in line_. Shit. If she caught me standing around like a fucking plebeian, she'd fire my ass. We weren't even covering this event, but Celia needed a favor: she wanted to borrow (and keep) a dress. And any excuse to do her a favor was a good one. The PR firm throwing this bash repped designer Alexander King. The official story was that Celia wanted the dress for a shoot, but reality check: she wanted a freebie. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.018112 | 6.6 |
Blondie was still typing. I rolled my eyes. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.018419 | 6.6 |
"Do you need me to spell it again?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.018726 | 6.6 |
"No, no. Which outlet are you with?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.019033 | 6.6 |
" _La Vie_ ," I said through gritted teeth. Her eyes widened. I should have stabbed the dumb PR girl through her stupid little eyes right then. Shish-kebabed her for the line to nibble on while they waited. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.01934 | 6.6 |
"I don't see your name on the list . . . It's, like, not on here?" Everything was said like a question. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.019647 | 6.6 |
I could have told her my name was Beyoncé and she wouldn't have known the difference. The grumblings behind me were getting louder. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.019954 | 6.6 |
"Check again." I started to hear a buzzing sound. It was like a drill going off in the background. I wondered if there was construction inside, an installation piece maybe. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.020261 | 6.6 |
"Do you hear that?" I asked. Check-in girl looked up from her iPad and stared at me blankly. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.020568 | 6.6 |
"Hear what? The music?" She popped her gum. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.020875 | 6.6 |
"Never mind." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.021182 | 6.6 |
She started typing again. "Oh! There you are. Your name was right in front of me! Ha! I'm, like, blind. I'm Lauren, by the way. We emailed earlier." She beamed. I wanted to pat her on the head, but she was wearing three wool scarves despite the heat, and beads of sweat were starting to roll down her face. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.021489 | 6.6 |
"Hey! Great to finally meet. Grab me inside and let's have a drink." I winced as I heard myself say the words. God, I hated myself sometimes. I knew that later, when she offered to do lunch, I'd take her up on it. Because that was my job and I was soulless. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.021796 | 6.6 |
"For sure!" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.022103 | 6.6 |
Fucking idiot. This was my life. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.02241 | 6.6 |
This was my second event of the evening. The first one had been for a Fitbit accessory—an accessory for the accessory that tells you you're not walking enough. You wanted to show off that you were actively trying to get in shape but then you had to hide your Fitbit inside chunky gold jewelry. What would they think of next? But I'd wear it. Maybe if I lost ten more pounds, Celia would bump me up from associate editor. Eyes on the prize—and the pounds. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.022717 | 6.6 |
This party was for a new scarf, which explained Lauren's sweatfest. Not a world-saving scarf or child-hunger-ending scarf or even an animal-friendly, organic alpaca scarf. (They wait for the animals to drop dead before culling the wool. How _thoughtful_.) Just a plain gray scarf. The PR girls were all draped in them; Lauren really was wearing three. It was July in New York and eighty-nine degrees outside. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.023024 | 6.6 |
It was also time for a drink. I don't get drunk. Losing control is tacky. You know what happens when you lose control? You get sloppy. But if I didn't drink, I'd have to use my phone incessantly—or worse, talk to people. Sarah always drank like a fish at these things, but she didn't care about the impression she made. Why should she? She was untouchable. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.023331 | 6.6 |
"Anya! There you are!" Another Lauren stood in front of me. I had lost track of who was who anymore, but PR girls always seemed to be named Lauren. They all looked alike; they wore David Yurman jewelry, their highlights were chunky, and their manis were French. Laurens hailed from Long Island, obviously. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.023638 | 6.6 |
"Lauren!" I hated myself for my fake enthusiasm. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.023945 | 6.6 |
"You remember me!" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.024252 | 6.6 |
"O-M-G, how much did you love that event last week for the light-up mirrors? Don't you love using those?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.024866 | 6.6 |
"Yeah, I use mine all the time. Is this your event too?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.025173 | 6.6 |
"Yes! The scarf is _amazing_ , right? You can wear it, like, five different ways! Who knew you could do all that with just a scarf? It's, like, changed my life." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.02548 | 6.6 |
This Lauren was wearing four. You could see sweat pooling around her armpits, turning her pale-blue blouse a deep indigo. I tried to look away. There was a weird spicy scent in the air. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.025787 | 6.6 |
"You don't say. But aren't you a bit hot?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.026094 | 6.6 |
"No! I feel great. Besides, I'm detoxing, so sweat is so great for me right now. I only eat kale and garlic, so this is really helping." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.026401 | 6.6 |
So that's what I was smelling. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.026708 | 6.6 |
"You can never have enough scarves," she added, scanning the room for someone else to talk to. "Oh! There's Annie from _Mince_ magazine. Go get a drink! Try on a scarf!" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.027015 | 6.6 |
Twenty minutes later, I was weighed down with knits. Every time a Lauren came by, they managed to drape another one on me. Perhaps this was a rite of passage, a test of some sort? If you could survive the night wearing five heavy woolen scarves, you're officially a woman or something. Smiling, I downed my third glass of champagne. At least the booze was top shelf for once. The idea of taking in empty calories nearly sent me into a panic, until I rationalized how much I was sweating out. It seemed an even trade. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.027322 | 6.6 |
"O-M-G, we have to Instagram you! You look so great!" Lauren again. The first one. Or the second. No, wait, definitely the first. Her shirt was pink, and the armpits had turned a deep mauve. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.027629 | 6.6 |
"Oh, I'd rather not—" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.027936 | 6.6 |
"Don't be silly. Smile!" _Click!_ "You look so chic." She snapped the photo while I was talking. My mouth had been open. That was the opposite of chic. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.028243 | 6.6 |
"I feel like I'm being swaddled." Too many layers can make you look heavy. Heavy was bad. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.02855 | 6.6 |
"It's the new look. I heard Alexander King is totally wearing his knits this way. Oh, shoot, be right back. Gotta tinkle." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.028856 | 6.6 |
"But can I see the photo? I think my eyes were shut." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.029163 | 6.6 |
"No, you look great. I'm posting it. I'll tag you!" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.02947 | 6.6 |
She walked away before I could grab her. I could have made a scene and pulled her by her pretty hair, but I didn't want to create a ruckus. Imagine the social media shitfest that would ensue. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.029777 | 6.6 |
Instead I checked my Instagram. There it was: one eye closed, lip semisnarling. How many chins did I have? My neck had disappeared into the wool. Worst of all, she hadn't used a filter. I looked like something that had washed up on the beaches of Montauk. Tomorrow I'd be ridiculed in our editorial meeting, lectured about putting my best foot forward. Because _A_ La Vie _woman must always present herself in her best light_. As if Celia and Sarah didn't have bad angles. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.030084 | 6.6 |
They didn't. Those perfect bitches. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.030391 | 6.6 |
The buzzing had started up again. It was a saw. I knew it was. Was there another room where an artist was cutting something up? Or maybe they were doing ice sculptures. That would explain all the scarves. Where the fuck was the VIP room, anyway? Why was I stuck here? Determined to make my night better, I walked up to another Lauren and tapped her on the shoulder. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.030698 | 6.6 |
"Hey!" She flashed a toothsome smile. Veneers, all of them. I guess she could handle a lot of pain. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.031312 | 6.6 |
"Where's the VIP room?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.031619 | 6.6 |
"The VIP room, with the artists?" I said slowly, raising my eyebrows. Was her programming in need of a reboot? | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.032233 | 6.6 |
"Um, there isn't one," she replied, looking around. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.03254 | 6.6 |
"Then what's with the buzzing?" I asked, annoyed. First that shitty photo, then no access? What kind of party was this? | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.032847 | 6.6 |
"What buzzing? I'm not sure—" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.033154 | 6.6 |
"Listen, Lauren. _La Vie_ doesn't put up with this kind of bullshit. Okay?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.033461 | 6.6 |
"Anya! There you are!" I turned to see the pink-shirt Lauren beaming at me. "Everything okay?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.033768 | 6.6 |
"No, it's not okay. This . . . intern of yours won't tell me where the VIP room is!" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.034075 | 6.6 |
"Okay, calm down, there's no VIP room. Not at tonight's event, sweetie." They always called you by lovey nicknames, like they cared. Sweetie. Honey. Sugar tits. Darling. Lauren-bots were the absolute worst. "Let's get you a drink though, okay, hon?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.034382 | 6.6 |
I allowed her to lead me to the bar. I hated this party. I hated this PR girl. She was treating me like a child. Sarah would never be treated like this. And why was that buzzing noise still going? | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.034689 | 6.6 |
"Why don't you have a drink while I go tinkle. And then I'll get you a gift bag, okay, sweetie?" I heard her say. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.034996 | 6.6 |
I nodded stiffly and closed my eyes, trying to block out the barrage of sounds. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.035303 | 6.6 |
I opened my eyes and watched Lauren—at this point, I wasn't sure if it was the first or second one, but really, it didn't matter. The bot models were interchangeable. She left the main party room and slipped out a door. She was going to the VIP area where the big story was. _Liar_. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.03561 | 6.6 |
How could they not think I was VIP enough to go? Hello, I worked at _La Vie_ , for Christ's sake. They'd never pull this shit with Sarah. I downed my champagne and followed the bot. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.035917 | 6.6 |
Lauren walked down an empty hallway and through a door. Where was security? Where were the ropes? I pushed on the door, but it was locked. I waited—someone would have to come out soon enough. It seemed like hours went by when the door finally opened. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.036224 | 6.6 |
"Anya! Hey!" the bot said. "Did you need to go too?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.036531 | 6.6 |
"Obviously, you know I did!" I pushed her back through the door and shut it behind us, locking it. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.036838 | 6.6 |
"Uh, what's going on? Are you okay?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.037145 | 6.6 |
"Yeah, we need to talk, is all." I surveyed the room. It wasn't much of a VIP area at all. Toilet, sink, mirror—they made the major peeps hang in the bathroom? I mean, if they wanted their Kate Moss coke moment, fine, but who even did that anymore? | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.037452 | 6.6 |
"Oh, about what? The scarves? Don't you love them?" She smiled nervously. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.037759 | 6.6 |
"Totes, Lauren. They're so chic." I was on fashion autopilot. I could spout any gibberish now and it'd make sense to a bot. "I'm so into them. Maybe I can do a pull?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.038066 | 6.6 |
She nodded enthusiastically, like a bobblehead. I don't know when I decided to smash her head into the mirror, but all of a sudden I did, and glass went everywhere. She stopped bobbing and looked at me, horrified. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.038373 | 6.6 |
She didn't even say the words. She said the acronyms. Even in this moment, she couldn't say _Oh my God_. I really fucking hated bots. When she opened her mouth to shriek, I had to power her down. Somehow, I knew there was an off switch behind the left eye. Hit it just right and _bam_ , the bot turns off. Lauren fell over, and I checked to see if she had fully powered down. Yep, no breathing. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.038987 | 6.6 |
I wiped down the sink, resisting the urge to kick her before I left. Her blood was seeping out of her eye. I've always enjoyed the color of blood, but oddly, I can't watch bloody shows on TV. Weird, right? | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.039294 | 6.6 |
I opened my eyes and looked at Lauren. "Oh, hey." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.040215 | 6.6 |
"Ha, no, just zoning out." It wasn't real. I didn't just stab her through the eyeball. Just a daydream. Cool, totally normal. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.040829 | 6.6 |
"Did you want another drink?" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.041136 | 6.6 |
"Oh, sure." I smiled, watching her run off to the bar. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.041443 | 6.6 |
"Oh, hey, listen," she said, handing me a glass of Veuve a moment later. "Before I forget, I have a dress for Celia. Mulberry emailed a request in. I'll send it over tomorrow." Mulberry was Celia's latest assistant. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.04175 | 6.6 |
"That'd be great!" I said. A six-inch shard jutted out of her left eye. Did anyone else see that? "Celia will be thrilled." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.042057 | 6.6 |
"Well, we're just happy _La Vie_ loves Alexander King as much as we do." She beamed, and her eyes crinkled, making the shard move. Was this real? I needed to ask Dr. M to up my meds. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.042364 | 6.6 |
"Okay, well, I think it's time to call it a night. Thanks for everything!" | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.042671 | 6.6 |
"You'll write about the scarves?" Lauren looked concerned. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.042978 | 6.6 |
"Uh, sure . . . gotta go. Email me." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.043285 | 6.6 |
She leaned in for a cheek kiss, but I ran. I didn't want to touch the shard. This wasn't real. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.043592 | 6.6 |
None of this was real. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.043899 | 6.6 |
The ten AM editorial meeting at _La Vie_ took place in the smaller of the two conference rooms on the seventh floor of Blanchett Publishing's giant glass tower building in Midtown. We were surrounded by curved metal and shiny surfaces. The walls were Frank Gehry inspired, and the chairs looked straight out of _Beetlejuice_. We had this meeting every Wednesday for FFD, or fashion, features, and digital—all the things I covered. It would be twenty minutes of pure hell. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.044513 | 6.6 |
"Nice photo of you last night." Sarah Elizabeth Taft laughed, flipping her gorgeously perfect hair. "You know Halloween isn't for a few months though, right?" She had been checking out my Instagram feed. My heart began to race. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.04482 | 6.6 |
"Ugh, I know. They posted it without giving me approval." | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.045127 | 6.6 |
"You really need to take a course in how to get your photo taken. I mean, it's just tragic." She wrinkled her nose. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.045434 | 6.6 |
"What's tragic?" Celia walked in wearing leather shorts. For someone in her early forties, she managed to make them look good. Her secret? Planks. Celia was the master of the five-minute plank. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.045741 | 6.6 |
"Another bad photo of Anya," Sarah said, gesturing to me. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.046048 | 6.6 |
"Another one? You just can't represent us if you look like an ugly whale!" Celia glared, waiting for me to acknowledge that my hideous deformation of not looking like Gisele Bündchen would be the ruin of _La Vie_. I nodded, attempting to put on a sorrowful face. I hated today. I hated Sarah Taft. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.046355 | 6.6 |
"We can't all be perfect, Sarah." I aimed for venomous, but it came out sounding slightly forlorn. I hated how much I loved her. She was wearing a floral dress by Preen with cowboy boots. Her look screamed "fresh off the prairie." I wanted to churn butter right then and there. | #FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar | 0.046662 | 6.6 |
End of preview. Expand
in Dataset Viewer.
- Downloads last month
- 59