In Samantha’s house live two lovely girls: Lyla, aged thirteen, and Lily, aged eleven. They are Samantha’s daughters, so of course they are both bright, funny and creative.
Tonight, for a select, private audience of two, the girls have arranged a special event: a fashion show. Lyla and Lily, along with their friend Charlotte, have spent all afternoon preparing.
Samantha and I take our seats. A pink satin runway stretches before us, the length of the living room. A boom-boom beat builds. The first model sashays out wearing a dramatic column of red silk wrapped from shoulder to ankle. Then, a pause, and a lot of whispering coming from backstage. The MC, Lily, makes an appearance. It seems that a vital garment has been misplaced. It seems that the show is on the brink of being cancelled. “No!” cries the audience. More whispers, followed by the sounds of a bedroom being dismembered. The top is unearthed. The show is back on.
What follows is fabulous entertainment. Splendid ensembles are modelled by the three swaggering girls, each one in turn striding forward, dropping her hip to pose for photographs and then turning on her heel.
Here are the highlights: a yellow PVC raincoat with a wide, waist-cinching white belt, worn with a white feather boa; a plum coloured velvet, embroidered top worn with a length of wine-red Shantung, wrapped as a skirt and fashioned into a bustle and train; and a purple ballet tutu worn as a poncho, teamed with a mini-skirt, rainbow over-the-knee socks and ballet pumps.
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