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Mihail was all set to have a delightful day. His sister had assured him that none of his services would be required that day - they had everything under control, for once - and, as a result, he had made exciting plans. It was nothing too ridiculous: only a little shopping trip in the morning with an appointment at the spa booked for the afternoon, and then perhaps he'd go out for the evening. Nethis had made a brief comment about not spending too extensively, but he had ignored her as always, and he doubted she would complain too intently anyhow. It would be a few irritated words, and he would nod and agree and pretend it mattered, and she would eventually let him have his way, albeit with a few strongly-worded warnings that would be quickly forgotten.
He had commandeered the family car, requested that the driver take him down to Saks on Fifth Avenue, and made a call for his assistant to join him once he reached the department store. It was only a five-minute journey, but the man was wearing pretty new boots with fur cuffs, and it wouldn't do to have them ruined so soon from an uncharacteristic lack of laziness.
"You can wait for me, hm?" he questioned, the smile on his face only half genuine, almost matching his words, although he was already starting to walk away and into the store, lowering the hood of his jacket which he had chosen to wear up for fashion over practicality. "I'll only be a little while. Maybe a few hours. Leonard will bring my bags by later on. Thanks for waiting, you're the sweetest."
Leonard had always been the sweetest assistant. Mihail had hired him only a couple of years prior to facilitate that only slightly pricey trip he had taken around the country, but the man had been so proficient at his job, and the pair had grown so close, that he'd chosen to keep him on all this time later. Today, he was waiting for his employer by the entrance, rushing forward to meet him with that bright grin still sitting on his face. It rarely left, although Mihail suspected it must have disappeared when he glanced away. His greeting was as positive as every other aspect of his personality, and he didn't seem to mind being snubbed for the far more important task of shopping.
Instead, the assistant took the pair of black-and-silver rimmed sunglasses that were thrust in his direction, trotting behind Mihail as he drifted absent-mindedly through the store with a thin unlit cigarette dangling from his rouged lips, pausing momentarily at each item which interested him. He had no exclusive favourites - though French designers unquestionably ranked higher than most - outside of shoes, but he would never object if something especially took his fancy (something far more common than he would ever admit). There was a reason he often struck off half his purchases as business expenses, even if his sisters didn't fall for the claim as often as he might have liked.
He didn't like to try things on, the idea that someone else might have worn the clothing he'd selected before him somehow repulsive to his tastes. Nonetheless, in the hour that passed, he still managed to rack up an eclectic mixture of purchases, including an ivory shirt which Leonard had muttered was almost identical to the one he was currently wearing, if not for the gentle frills hanging over his chest (as if that had stopped him).
"I'm bored with this; I want shoes," he announced eventually, that childish streak unavoidable as he waved a hand to indicate he was headed to the eighth floor. The other man was already laden with a selection of bags, brown eyes darting in the direction of the exit as he started to follow.
"Perhaps I should run these back to the car, Mimi? I'll meet you there. Starbucks?"
Mihail looked up from the selection of handbags he had stopped to pick through on his way to the elevator, running a silver-painted fingertip along the handle of a Dior bag in vague consideration. "No, I'll have something upstairs...if you could let Driver know I might be a couple hours longer, that would be super cute." He halted in his words a second, immediately amused by the ever-hilarious concept that a man by the name of Driver should have chosen such a profession. "Don't dawdle." He shooed the man away, disappearing into the lift as the other directed himself back to the car.
The shoe salon was enormous. It was like a genuine vision of heaven, if someone had suddenly allowed myriad lower-branded names into heaven - even Gucci was getting uncomfortably downmarket recently, though he rarely wore those. For once, however, he was undistracted by all there was on offer, headed directly to his final destination. There would be time to explore the rest of the floor later, as if he didn't already know half of their wares from a visit only a few days earlier.
Christian Louboutin was - and always had been - Mihail's dearest favourite. There was an unknown appeal to those distinct soles in such a stunning carnelian shade, and he had filled his closet with so many that it had been a blessing when Nethis had bought him that apartment downtown, and he'd had somewhere new to store them (and hide them from her potential yet unlikely wrath). As one of the two closest to home, he'd visited this branch of the brand on countless occasions, and most of the staff had come to know him by name since, a fact which never ceased to please him. There was just something so appealing about such personal treatment.
"I'll have a glass of champagne," he informed the sales assistant who had already started hovering behind him as he scanned the shoes on display outside the boutique, not allowing her the opportunity to ask whether he required the aid or not. His gaze shifted past the shoes to watch the woman in the mirror on the back of the display as he spoke, ruby-coloured bursts painted around his dark eyes near matching the reflection of the boots in the tinted glass. He stepped aside so she could help him remove the chinchilla jacket which matched his boots, hanging it on a well-placed coatrack for customers. "I was looking at some gorgeous Theophilas the other day - I have them on reserve - and some Red Runners. And I'll try on those Dandelions with the grosgrain finish before I take them home." Mihail didn't bother adding his shoe-size to the list of instructions, knowing full well the store assistant was already aware of it, and instead settled himself on the monochrome couch to wait for the drink, lighting up that same cigarette even though he knew full well it wasn't permitted. The fines were hardly significant.
That same woman wandered over once more, face twisted in concern as she set down the drink he'd requested and one of the boxes containing the loafers he'd been eyeing. Her words came out close to stuttered, nervous at her upcoming suggestion. "Excuse me, Mimi, if you wouldn't mind, we don't permit smoking. I can find you an a-" He cut her off, his expression wholly uninterested as he tugged out his phone to scroll through his Instagram feed.
"I forgot to say, I didn't get the best look at your beauty section earlier, so if you could bring me a selection of your lip and nail products - Rouge, preferably - that would be amazing. And if you could take less than forever to do that this time, that would be even better." Mihail glanced up for a split second, lips quirked upwards into a sardonic smile. "Still waiting for my boots, honey. Oh, and if you wouldn't mind - I'm starving. If you could send someone out to find something that would be lovely. I'm quite partial to baklava, but I'm not picky."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Mihail was all set to have a delightful day. His sister had assured him that none of his services would be required that day - they had everything under control, for once - and, as a result, he had made exciting plans. It was nothing too ridiculous: only a little shopping trip in the morning with an appointment at the spa booked for the afternoon, and then perhaps he'd go out for the evening. Nethis had made a brief comment about not spending too extensively, but he had ignored her as always, and he doubted she would complain too intently anyhow. It would be a few irritated words, and he would nod and agree and pretend it mattered, and she would eventually let him have his way, albeit with a few strongly-worded warnings that would be quickly forgotten.
He had commandeered the family car, requested that the driver take him down to Saks on Fifth Avenue, and made a call for his assistant to join him once he reached the department store. It was only a five-minute journey, but the man was wearing pretty new boots with fur cuffs, and it wouldn't do to have them ruined so soon from an uncharacteristic lack of laziness.
"You can wait for me, hm?" he questioned, the smile on his face only half genuine, almost matching his words, although he was already starting to walk away and into the store, lowering the hood of his jacket which he had chosen to wear up for fashion over practicality. "I'll only be a little while. Maybe a few hours. Leonard will bring my bags by later on. Thanks for waiting, you're the sweetest."
Leonard had always been the sweetest assistant. Mihail had hired him only a couple of years prior to facilitate that only slightly pricey trip he had taken around the country, but the man had been so proficient at his job, and the pair had grown so close, that he'd chosen to keep him on all this time later. Today, he was waiting for his employer by the entrance, rushing forward to meet him with that bright grin still sitting on his face. It rarely left, although Mihail suspected it must have disappeared when he glanced away. His greeting was as positive as every other aspect of his personality, and he didn't seem to mind being snubbed for the far more important task of shopping.
Instead, the assistant took the pair of black-and-silver rimmed sunglasses that were thrust in his direction, trotting behind Mihail as he drifted absent-mindedly through the store with a thin unlit cigarette dangling from his rouged lips, pausing momentarily at each item which interested him. He had no exclusive favourites - though French designers unquestionably ranked higher than most - outside of shoes, but he would never object if something especially took his fancy (something far more common than he would ever admit). There was a reason he often struck off half his purchases as business expenses, even if his sisters didn't fall for the claim as often as he might have liked.
He didn't like to try things on, the idea that someone else might have worn the clothing he'd selected before him somehow repulsive to his tastes. Nonetheless, in the hour that passed, he still managed to rack up an eclectic mixture of purchases, including an ivory shirt which Leonard had muttered was almost identical to the one he was currently wearing, if not for the gentle frills hanging over his chest (as if that had stopped him).
"I'm bored with this; I want shoes," he announced eventually, that childish streak unavoidable as he waved a hand to indicate he was headed to the eighth floor. The other man was already laden with a selection of bags, brown eyes darting in the direction of the exit as he started to follow.
"Perhaps I should run these back to the car, Mimi? I'll meet you there. Starbucks?"
Mihail looked up from the selection of handbags he had stopped to pick through on his way to the elevator, running a silver-painted fingertip along the handle of a Dior bag in vague consideration. "No, I'll have something upstairs...if you could let Driver know I might be a couple hours longer, that would be super cute." He halted in his words a second, immediately amused by the ever-hilarious concept that a man by the name of Driver should have chosen such a profession. "Don't dawdle." He shooed the man away, disappearing into the lift as the other directed himself back to the car.
The shoe salon was enormous. It was like a genuine vision of heaven, if someone had suddenly allowed myriad lower-branded names into heaven - even Gucci was getting uncomfortably downmarket recently, though he rarely wore those. For once, however, he was undistracted by all there was on offer, headed directly to his final destination. There would be time to explore the rest of the floor later, as if he didn't already know half of their wares from a visit only a few days earlier.
Christian Louboutin was - and always had been - Mihail's dearest favourite. There was an unknown appeal to those distinct soles in such a stunning carnelian shade, and he had filled his closet with so many that it had been a blessing when Nethis had bought him that apartment downtown, and he'd had somewhere new to store them (and hide them from her potential yet unlikely wrath). As one of the two closest to home, he'd visited this branch of the brand on countless occasions, and most of the staff had come to know him by name since, a fact which never ceased to please him. There was just something so appealing about such personal treatment.
"I'll have a glass of champagne," he informed the sales assistant who had already started hovering behind him as he scanned the shoes on display outside the boutique, not allowing her the opportunity to ask whether he required the aid or not. His gaze shifted past the shoes to watch the woman in the mirror on the back of the display as he spoke, ruby-coloured bursts painted around his dark eyes near matching the reflection of the boots in the tinted glass. He stepped aside so she could help him remove the chinchilla jacket which matched his boots, hanging it on a well-placed coatrack for customers. "I was looking at some gorgeous Theophilas the other day - I have them on reserve - and some Red Runners. And I'll try on those Dandelions with the grosgrain finish before I take them home." Mihail didn't bother adding his shoe-size to the list of instructions, knowing full well the store assistant was already aware of it, and instead settled himself on the monochrome couch to wait for the drink, lighting up that same cigarette even though he knew full well it wasn't permitted. The fines were hardly significant.
That same woman wandered over once more, face twisted in concern as she set down the drink he'd requested and one of the boxes containing the loafers he'd been eyeing. Her words came out close to stuttered, nervous at her upcoming suggestion. "Excuse me, Mimi, if you wouldn't mind, we don't permit smoking. I can find you an a-" He cut her off, his expression wholly uninterested as he tugged out his phone to scroll through his Instagram feed.
"I forgot to say, I didn't get the best look at your beauty section earlier, so if you could bring me a selection of your lip and nail products - Rouge, preferably - that would be amazing. And if you could take less than forever to do that this time, that would be even better." Mihail glanced up for a split second, lips quirked upwards into a sardonic smile. "Still waiting for my boots, honey. Oh, and if you wouldn't mind - I'm starving. If you could send someone out to find something that would be lovely. I'm quite partial to baklava, but I'm not picky."
Mihail was all set to have a delightful day. His sister had assured him that none of his services would be required that day - they had everything under control, for once - and, as a result, he had made exciting plans. It was nothing too ridiculous: only a little shopping trip in the morning with an appointment at the spa booked for the afternoon, and then perhaps he'd go out for the evening. Nethis had made a brief comment about not spending too extensively, but he had ignored her as always, and he doubted she would complain too intently anyhow. It would be a few irritated words, and he would nod and agree and pretend it mattered, and she would eventually let him have his way, albeit with a few strongly-worded warnings that would be quickly forgotten.
He had commandeered the family car, requested that the driver take him down to Saks on Fifth Avenue, and made a call for his assistant to join him once he reached the department store. It was only a five-minute journey, but the man was wearing pretty new boots with fur cuffs, and it wouldn't do to have them ruined so soon from an uncharacteristic lack of laziness.
"You can wait for me, hm?" he questioned, the smile on his face only half genuine, almost matching his words, although he was already starting to walk away and into the store, lowering the hood of his jacket which he had chosen to wear up for fashion over practicality. "I'll only be a little while. Maybe a few hours. Leonard will bring my bags by later on. Thanks for waiting, you're the sweetest."
Leonard had always been the sweetest assistant. Mihail had hired him only a couple of years prior to facilitate that only slightly pricey trip he had taken around the country, but the man had been so proficient at his job, and the pair had grown so close, that he'd chosen to keep him on all this time later. Today, he was waiting for his employer by the entrance, rushing forward to meet him with that bright grin still sitting on his face. It rarely left, although Mihail suspected it must have disappeared when he glanced away. His greeting was as positive as every other aspect of his personality, and he didn't seem to mind being snubbed for the far more important task of shopping.
Instead, the assistant took the pair of black-and-silver rimmed sunglasses that were thrust in his direction, trotting behind Mihail as he drifted absent-mindedly through the store with a thin unlit cigarette dangling from his rouged lips, pausing momentarily at each item which interested him. He had no exclusive favourites - though French designers unquestionably ranked higher than most - outside of shoes, but he would never object if something especially took his fancy (something far more common than he would ever admit). There was a reason he often struck off half his purchases as business expenses, even if his sisters didn't fall for the claim as often as he might have liked.
He didn't like to try things on, the idea that someone else might have worn the clothing he'd selected before him somehow repulsive to his tastes. Nonetheless, in the hour that passed, he still managed to rack up an eclectic mixture of purchases, including an ivory shirt which Leonard had muttered was almost identical to the one he was currently wearing, if not for the gentle frills hanging over his chest (as if that had stopped him).
"I'm bored with this; I want shoes," he announced eventually, that childish streak unavoidable as he waved a hand to indicate he was headed to the eighth floor. The other man was already laden with a selection of bags, brown eyes darting in the direction of the exit as he started to follow.
"Perhaps I should run these back to the car, Mimi? I'll meet you there. Starbucks?"
Mihail looked up from the selection of handbags he had stopped to pick through on his way to the elevator, running a silver-painted fingertip along the handle of a Dior bag in vague consideration. "No, I'll have something upstairs...if you could let Driver know I might be a couple hours longer, that would be super cute." He halted in his words a second, immediately amused by the ever-hilarious concept that a man by the name of Driver should have chosen such a profession. "Don't dawdle." He shooed the man away, disappearing into the lift as the other directed himself back to the car.
The shoe salon was enormous. It was like a genuine vision of heaven, if someone had suddenly allowed myriad lower-branded names into heaven - even Gucci was getting uncomfortably downmarket recently, though he rarely wore those. For once, however, he was undistracted by all there was on offer, headed directly to his final destination. There would be time to explore the rest of the floor later, as if he didn't already know half of their wares from a visit only a few days earlier.
Christian Louboutin was - and always had been - Mihail's dearest favourite. There was an unknown appeal to those distinct soles in such a stunning carnelian shade, and he had filled his closet with so many that it had been a blessing when Nethis had bought him that apartment downtown, and he'd had somewhere new to store them (and hide them from her potential yet unlikely wrath). As one of the two closest to home, he'd visited this branch of the brand on countless occasions, and most of the staff had come to know him by name since, a fact which never ceased to please him. There was just something so appealing about such personal treatment.
"I'll have a glass of champagne," he informed the sales assistant who had already started hovering behind him as he scanned the shoes on display outside the boutique, not allowing her the opportunity to ask whether he required the aid or not. His gaze shifted past the shoes to watch the woman in the mirror on the back of the display as he spoke, ruby-coloured bursts painted around his dark eyes near matching the reflection of the boots in the tinted glass. He stepped aside so she could help him remove the chinchilla jacket which matched his boots, hanging it on a well-placed coatrack for customers. "I was looking at some gorgeous Theophilas the other day - I have them on reserve - and some Red Runners. And I'll try on those Dandelions with the grosgrain finish before I take them home." Mihail didn't bother adding his shoe-size to the list of instructions, knowing full well the store assistant was already aware of it, and instead settled himself on the monochrome couch to wait for the drink, lighting up that same cigarette even though he knew full well it wasn't permitted. The fines were hardly significant.
That same woman wandered over once more, face twisted in concern as she set down the drink he'd requested and one of the boxes containing the loafers he'd been eyeing. Her words came out close to stuttered, nervous at her upcoming suggestion. "Excuse me, Mimi, if you wouldn't mind, we don't permit smoking. I can find you an a-" He cut her off, his expression wholly uninterested as he tugged out his phone to scroll through his Instagram feed.
"I forgot to say, I didn't get the best look at your beauty section earlier, so if you could bring me a selection of your lip and nail products - Rouge, preferably - that would be amazing. And if you could take less than forever to do that this time, that would be even better." Mihail glanced up for a split second, lips quirked upwards into a sardonic smile. "Still waiting for my boots, honey. Oh, and if you wouldn't mind - I'm starving. If you could send someone out to find something that would be lovely. I'm quite partial to baklava, but I'm not picky."
With her party lifestyle, it was unheard of that Nana was out of bed, let alone out of the apartment, before noon. Never being one to turn down an invitation to party, and with all the invitations she received, it was a wonder the girl hadn't yet keeled over and died from the constant flow of alcohol that assaulted her liver. Of course, Mama had given her a great deal of grief about it over the years, but of course, Mama had little to do other than go to cocktail parties and galas. Papa, on the other hand, had a business to run, so there was no wondering as to just why he never gave Nana a hard time.
Waking up quite early after making her way home at around 2am, Nana found herself restless, and quickly made the call to the housekeeper to make her a protein smoothie, before crawling out from underneath the mountain of pillows that covered her bed, and going to the bathroom to take off her war paint from the night before.
And oh, how she regretted her previous life choices in that moment. She'd practically taken a paint roller to her eyes before she went out, and being too drunk and tired to actually take it off upon arriving home, she'd slept in it, and in the process turned into a raccoon.
"Ugh...This'll take forever to get off," she groaned, before dipping a hand into her cleanser and quickly slathering it on, rubbing her face vigorously as she once again yelled to her housekeeper, "Sylvia! Once you're done with my smoothie, could you put my sheets in the wash?"
Upon looking back from the door, she was met with the image of her face, but covered in an ugly gray-brown smear of last night's cosmetic choices, an image that would frighten her had it not been a normal occurrence. Quickly rinsing it off and wiping her face dry with a towel, Nana was met with a large green smoothie upon walking into the kitchen, which she quickly picked up and started sipping down as she went into her closet to figure out what to wear.
On a normal day, perhaps, she'd find herself much more choosy when it came to such things, but this morning she felt a bit more hungover than she'd like to deal with, and as such, decided on a whim as to what to wear. Quickly pulling her sartorial selections from the rack, Nana tossed them on her bed on her way back to the bathroom, quickly getting out of her glittery, yet scratchy dress and into the shower.
After a brief karaoke session, Nana was out and quickly dressed, only returning back to the mirror to touch up her eyebrows and apply her favorite shade of pink to her lips - a vivid electric pink from Fenty that wouldn't clash with her millennial pink shearling coat. She didn't have the time nor the patience for a more sophisticated beat, and she could always wear sunglasses to hide the ill-effects of the night before.
After that, Nana was out the door in a flash, shooting a quick text for the chauffeur to meet her at the door as she reached the elevator and asked for the ground floor.
It took only a few moments for the Leventi to then be ushered into the back of a black Mercedes, at which point she promptly asked to be dropped at Saks. Though it was less than a mile from 51st to 5th, Nana could not be asked to walk that far in her Louboutins. To Nana, it seemed very clear that Iggy Azalea had no idea what she was talking about when she wrote such a stupid line.
But, those absolutely delicious red soles were exactly what called her to 5th Avenue on this particular day. With little to do at the apartment other than watch Sylvia go about her work, Nana filled her days with shopping trips and coffee dates, and every now and then, visits to Papa's work to mess with the new hires. And today, she was fully prepared to spend a bit of her allowance on a pair of Follies she'd been slavering over online. Maybe if she was feeling a little crazy, she'd get something else, too.
Upon arriving, Nana's door was quickly opened by her chauffeur, and after picking up her bag and stepping out of the vehicle, she handed him a crisp twenty. "Don't wait up, I'll call you when I'm done," and with that, the girl made her way into the department store, briskly walking past any distractions that might get in the way of her getting what she wanted. In her stupidity, she'd forgotten to have a pair set aside for her, and at this point she would not risk anyone else snapping them up first.
Stepping into the elevator, Nana made her way to the eighth floor to claim what was so rightfully hers, and after another little trek to the Louboutin boutique, she quickly handed off her overly-huge pink coat to the nearest associate, who with her short stature seemed to almost drown in the material.
Nana would then take the initiative to go straight to where the Follies were located, looking behind her to the associate who was so awkwardly trailing, and pointing to the Swarovski-studded heels. "These. You know my size."
It was only then, after successfully completing her mission, that Nana relaxed and went about perusing, stopping at a pair of studded Louises and once again sending her little attendant back.
With how slow she browsed, Nana almost looked like an art student in a museum, studying each pair as if they were Van Goghs or Monets, or some other well-known artist she didn't care about. It was only when she heard another employee asking another shopper to stop smoking that she turned away from her perusal and raised her eyebrows, not sure what to expect.
And, of course, it was Mimi, who then began thoroughly embarrassing the girl with her own incompetence.
"Mihail Thanasi," she called out after he'd finished upbraiding the girl, demanding the attention of the man now glued to his phone, before closing the space between them and giving air-kisses.
"So good to see you. I trust they're not treating you badly?," she asked, glancing at the attendant he'd just sent away and leering.
Sometimes, it seemed the girls who worked here just weren't cut out for the job.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
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With her party lifestyle, it was unheard of that Nana was out of bed, let alone out of the apartment, before noon. Never being one to turn down an invitation to party, and with all the invitations she received, it was a wonder the girl hadn't yet keeled over and died from the constant flow of alcohol that assaulted her liver. Of course, Mama had given her a great deal of grief about it over the years, but of course, Mama had little to do other than go to cocktail parties and galas. Papa, on the other hand, had a business to run, so there was no wondering as to just why he never gave Nana a hard time.
Waking up quite early after making her way home at around 2am, Nana found herself restless, and quickly made the call to the housekeeper to make her a protein smoothie, before crawling out from underneath the mountain of pillows that covered her bed, and going to the bathroom to take off her war paint from the night before.
And oh, how she regretted her previous life choices in that moment. She'd practically taken a paint roller to her eyes before she went out, and being too drunk and tired to actually take it off upon arriving home, she'd slept in it, and in the process turned into a raccoon.
"Ugh...This'll take forever to get off," she groaned, before dipping a hand into her cleanser and quickly slathering it on, rubbing her face vigorously as she once again yelled to her housekeeper, "Sylvia! Once you're done with my smoothie, could you put my sheets in the wash?"
Upon looking back from the door, she was met with the image of her face, but covered in an ugly gray-brown smear of last night's cosmetic choices, an image that would frighten her had it not been a normal occurrence. Quickly rinsing it off and wiping her face dry with a towel, Nana was met with a large green smoothie upon walking into the kitchen, which she quickly picked up and started sipping down as she went into her closet to figure out what to wear.
On a normal day, perhaps, she'd find herself much more choosy when it came to such things, but this morning she felt a bit more hungover than she'd like to deal with, and as such, decided on a whim as to what to wear. Quickly pulling her sartorial selections from the rack, Nana tossed them on her bed on her way back to the bathroom, quickly getting out of her glittery, yet scratchy dress and into the shower.
After a brief karaoke session, Nana was out and quickly dressed, only returning back to the mirror to touch up her eyebrows and apply her favorite shade of pink to her lips - a vivid electric pink from Fenty that wouldn't clash with her millennial pink shearling coat. She didn't have the time nor the patience for a more sophisticated beat, and she could always wear sunglasses to hide the ill-effects of the night before.
After that, Nana was out the door in a flash, shooting a quick text for the chauffeur to meet her at the door as she reached the elevator and asked for the ground floor.
It took only a few moments for the Leventi to then be ushered into the back of a black Mercedes, at which point she promptly asked to be dropped at Saks. Though it was less than a mile from 51st to 5th, Nana could not be asked to walk that far in her Louboutins. To Nana, it seemed very clear that Iggy Azalea had no idea what she was talking about when she wrote such a stupid line.
But, those absolutely delicious red soles were exactly what called her to 5th Avenue on this particular day. With little to do at the apartment other than watch Sylvia go about her work, Nana filled her days with shopping trips and coffee dates, and every now and then, visits to Papa's work to mess with the new hires. And today, she was fully prepared to spend a bit of her allowance on a pair of Follies she'd been slavering over online. Maybe if she was feeling a little crazy, she'd get something else, too.
Upon arriving, Nana's door was quickly opened by her chauffeur, and after picking up her bag and stepping out of the vehicle, she handed him a crisp twenty. "Don't wait up, I'll call you when I'm done," and with that, the girl made her way into the department store, briskly walking past any distractions that might get in the way of her getting what she wanted. In her stupidity, she'd forgotten to have a pair set aside for her, and at this point she would not risk anyone else snapping them up first.
Stepping into the elevator, Nana made her way to the eighth floor to claim what was so rightfully hers, and after another little trek to the Louboutin boutique, she quickly handed off her overly-huge pink coat to the nearest associate, who with her short stature seemed to almost drown in the material.
Nana would then take the initiative to go straight to where the Follies were located, looking behind her to the associate who was so awkwardly trailing, and pointing to the Swarovski-studded heels. "These. You know my size."
It was only then, after successfully completing her mission, that Nana relaxed and went about perusing, stopping at a pair of studded Louises and once again sending her little attendant back.
With how slow she browsed, Nana almost looked like an art student in a museum, studying each pair as if they were Van Goghs or Monets, or some other well-known artist she didn't care about. It was only when she heard another employee asking another shopper to stop smoking that she turned away from her perusal and raised her eyebrows, not sure what to expect.
And, of course, it was Mimi, who then began thoroughly embarrassing the girl with her own incompetence.
"Mihail Thanasi," she called out after he'd finished upbraiding the girl, demanding the attention of the man now glued to his phone, before closing the space between them and giving air-kisses.
"So good to see you. I trust they're not treating you badly?," she asked, glancing at the attendant he'd just sent away and leering.
Sometimes, it seemed the girls who worked here just weren't cut out for the job.
With her party lifestyle, it was unheard of that Nana was out of bed, let alone out of the apartment, before noon. Never being one to turn down an invitation to party, and with all the invitations she received, it was a wonder the girl hadn't yet keeled over and died from the constant flow of alcohol that assaulted her liver. Of course, Mama had given her a great deal of grief about it over the years, but of course, Mama had little to do other than go to cocktail parties and galas. Papa, on the other hand, had a business to run, so there was no wondering as to just why he never gave Nana a hard time.
Waking up quite early after making her way home at around 2am, Nana found herself restless, and quickly made the call to the housekeeper to make her a protein smoothie, before crawling out from underneath the mountain of pillows that covered her bed, and going to the bathroom to take off her war paint from the night before.
And oh, how she regretted her previous life choices in that moment. She'd practically taken a paint roller to her eyes before she went out, and being too drunk and tired to actually take it off upon arriving home, she'd slept in it, and in the process turned into a raccoon.
"Ugh...This'll take forever to get off," she groaned, before dipping a hand into her cleanser and quickly slathering it on, rubbing her face vigorously as she once again yelled to her housekeeper, "Sylvia! Once you're done with my smoothie, could you put my sheets in the wash?"
Upon looking back from the door, she was met with the image of her face, but covered in an ugly gray-brown smear of last night's cosmetic choices, an image that would frighten her had it not been a normal occurrence. Quickly rinsing it off and wiping her face dry with a towel, Nana was met with a large green smoothie upon walking into the kitchen, which she quickly picked up and started sipping down as she went into her closet to figure out what to wear.
On a normal day, perhaps, she'd find herself much more choosy when it came to such things, but this morning she felt a bit more hungover than she'd like to deal with, and as such, decided on a whim as to what to wear. Quickly pulling her sartorial selections from the rack, Nana tossed them on her bed on her way back to the bathroom, quickly getting out of her glittery, yet scratchy dress and into the shower.
After a brief karaoke session, Nana was out and quickly dressed, only returning back to the mirror to touch up her eyebrows and apply her favorite shade of pink to her lips - a vivid electric pink from Fenty that wouldn't clash with her millennial pink shearling coat. She didn't have the time nor the patience for a more sophisticated beat, and she could always wear sunglasses to hide the ill-effects of the night before.
After that, Nana was out the door in a flash, shooting a quick text for the chauffeur to meet her at the door as she reached the elevator and asked for the ground floor.
It took only a few moments for the Leventi to then be ushered into the back of a black Mercedes, at which point she promptly asked to be dropped at Saks. Though it was less than a mile from 51st to 5th, Nana could not be asked to walk that far in her Louboutins. To Nana, it seemed very clear that Iggy Azalea had no idea what she was talking about when she wrote such a stupid line.
But, those absolutely delicious red soles were exactly what called her to 5th Avenue on this particular day. With little to do at the apartment other than watch Sylvia go about her work, Nana filled her days with shopping trips and coffee dates, and every now and then, visits to Papa's work to mess with the new hires. And today, she was fully prepared to spend a bit of her allowance on a pair of Follies she'd been slavering over online. Maybe if she was feeling a little crazy, she'd get something else, too.
Upon arriving, Nana's door was quickly opened by her chauffeur, and after picking up her bag and stepping out of the vehicle, she handed him a crisp twenty. "Don't wait up, I'll call you when I'm done," and with that, the girl made her way into the department store, briskly walking past any distractions that might get in the way of her getting what she wanted. In her stupidity, she'd forgotten to have a pair set aside for her, and at this point she would not risk anyone else snapping them up first.
Stepping into the elevator, Nana made her way to the eighth floor to claim what was so rightfully hers, and after another little trek to the Louboutin boutique, she quickly handed off her overly-huge pink coat to the nearest associate, who with her short stature seemed to almost drown in the material.
Nana would then take the initiative to go straight to where the Follies were located, looking behind her to the associate who was so awkwardly trailing, and pointing to the Swarovski-studded heels. "These. You know my size."
It was only then, after successfully completing her mission, that Nana relaxed and went about perusing, stopping at a pair of studded Louises and once again sending her little attendant back.
With how slow she browsed, Nana almost looked like an art student in a museum, studying each pair as if they were Van Goghs or Monets, or some other well-known artist she didn't care about. It was only when she heard another employee asking another shopper to stop smoking that she turned away from her perusal and raised her eyebrows, not sure what to expect.
And, of course, it was Mimi, who then began thoroughly embarrassing the girl with her own incompetence.
"Mihail Thanasi," she called out after he'd finished upbraiding the girl, demanding the attention of the man now glued to his phone, before closing the space between them and giving air-kisses.
"So good to see you. I trust they're not treating you badly?," she asked, glancing at the attendant he'd just sent away and leering.
Sometimes, it seemed the girls who worked here just weren't cut out for the job.
This was, by far, Mihail's favourite of all the Louboutin stores in New York City. While the others were more than glad to tend to their clientele with equal quantities of generosity, there was no store where the employees were as susceptible to his demands or as keen to make each customer's experience perfect as in this one, and that was just the way he liked it. There was no point in visiting one of these luxury stores if they were not going to give you the shopping experience which matched their price tags; thus, whenever he visited, he was promptly treated to the glass of champagne which he now gripped between slender fingers, and the store girls were happy to run around and find him some treat from an obscure little Turkish bazaar some way down the road. It was ideal, and the exact reason he visited so often.
What he never expected, however, were interruptions, and his head flicked up in confusion as someone spoke his name, momentarily distracted from the pictures of that handsome Australian he'd been taking out to dinner for a few weeks now. Luckily, the familiar voice belonged to someone he liked very much (a rarity in itself), and he pulled himself from his seat to match her greeting, uncharacteristically smiling. "Nana," he replied, returning the kisses. "I assure you, these girls could not bring themselves to mistreat me if they wanted nothing more. I think they'll find I am their finest customer." He let out a light laugh in response, his eyes drifting across the room to where the women had now disappeared into their backroom to find the requested shoes and sizes. The claim was likely accurate. Father would have had an aneurysm if he knew how much Mihail had spent on shoes over the past few years, writing off the costs as 'business expenses' and hiding the majority his vast collection in his Tribeca apartment to avoid detection. "I am almost on my way to three thousand, did you know? You should visit sometime soon; I would love to show you."
Greetings over with, Mihail dropped languidly back to his seat, claiming the champagne glass once more and taking a long sip as he tilted his head to gesture for his friend to find a place beside him. They had not seen each other in a while - his fault, in truth, given that endless holiday he had taken and how allegedly busy he had been with work - and he was eager to catch up.
"I forgot to say, you look gorgeous as ever. This outfit is perfect for you, and that coat," he nodded towards the coatrack where her bright pink affair had been hung beside his own fur, the only two currently on display due to current lack of other customers, "I love it, I want one. Where did you get it?" His words were genuine, although his tone sounded less so, true humanity somehow impossible to express when he was more used to petty lies. The Thanasi leaned back in his seat, watching the girl who now stumbled into the room with a selection of products from the store's beauty section downstairs, having heeded his instructions and brought only the deep crimson shades he favoured. The smile he now offered her instead was less pleasant, though he accepted the items she set on the table before the pair, waving the girl away with an irritable expression. Leonard would never have been this useless. "Well done. It only took you five minutes this time. Maybe, next time, we can shave it down to one or two and be a little less incompetent?"
Reaching for one of the scarlet pots of nail polish, he dangled it between thumb and forefinger to examine the contents, holding it out before the blonde girl at his side with an inquisitive expression. "Help me decide? I have a spa appointment later - you can join me, if you have the time - and you know I cannot abide the shades they offer half the time. Their colours are just so garish and cheap, I have to bring my own." Mihail drummed his square-cut nails against his chest to accentuate the silver shade painted on them, still perfect from his recent manicure only a week before, though he could not stand to have the same colour on his nails for too long. "I'm sure it'll take them a good while to fetch my shoes - they always take forever; I suppose my size must just be problematic - and I don't like to try unless I have every option, you understand. Now, Nana, with your exquisite taste: Lady Peep or Very Prive, or both?"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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This was, by far, Mihail's favourite of all the Louboutin stores in New York City. While the others were more than glad to tend to their clientele with equal quantities of generosity, there was no store where the employees were as susceptible to his demands or as keen to make each customer's experience perfect as in this one, and that was just the way he liked it. There was no point in visiting one of these luxury stores if they were not going to give you the shopping experience which matched their price tags; thus, whenever he visited, he was promptly treated to the glass of champagne which he now gripped between slender fingers, and the store girls were happy to run around and find him some treat from an obscure little Turkish bazaar some way down the road. It was ideal, and the exact reason he visited so often.
What he never expected, however, were interruptions, and his head flicked up in confusion as someone spoke his name, momentarily distracted from the pictures of that handsome Australian he'd been taking out to dinner for a few weeks now. Luckily, the familiar voice belonged to someone he liked very much (a rarity in itself), and he pulled himself from his seat to match her greeting, uncharacteristically smiling. "Nana," he replied, returning the kisses. "I assure you, these girls could not bring themselves to mistreat me if they wanted nothing more. I think they'll find I am their finest customer." He let out a light laugh in response, his eyes drifting across the room to where the women had now disappeared into their backroom to find the requested shoes and sizes. The claim was likely accurate. Father would have had an aneurysm if he knew how much Mihail had spent on shoes over the past few years, writing off the costs as 'business expenses' and hiding the majority his vast collection in his Tribeca apartment to avoid detection. "I am almost on my way to three thousand, did you know? You should visit sometime soon; I would love to show you."
Greetings over with, Mihail dropped languidly back to his seat, claiming the champagne glass once more and taking a long sip as he tilted his head to gesture for his friend to find a place beside him. They had not seen each other in a while - his fault, in truth, given that endless holiday he had taken and how allegedly busy he had been with work - and he was eager to catch up.
"I forgot to say, you look gorgeous as ever. This outfit is perfect for you, and that coat," he nodded towards the coatrack where her bright pink affair had been hung beside his own fur, the only two currently on display due to current lack of other customers, "I love it, I want one. Where did you get it?" His words were genuine, although his tone sounded less so, true humanity somehow impossible to express when he was more used to petty lies. The Thanasi leaned back in his seat, watching the girl who now stumbled into the room with a selection of products from the store's beauty section downstairs, having heeded his instructions and brought only the deep crimson shades he favoured. The smile he now offered her instead was less pleasant, though he accepted the items she set on the table before the pair, waving the girl away with an irritable expression. Leonard would never have been this useless. "Well done. It only took you five minutes this time. Maybe, next time, we can shave it down to one or two and be a little less incompetent?"
Reaching for one of the scarlet pots of nail polish, he dangled it between thumb and forefinger to examine the contents, holding it out before the blonde girl at his side with an inquisitive expression. "Help me decide? I have a spa appointment later - you can join me, if you have the time - and you know I cannot abide the shades they offer half the time. Their colours are just so garish and cheap, I have to bring my own." Mihail drummed his square-cut nails against his chest to accentuate the silver shade painted on them, still perfect from his recent manicure only a week before, though he could not stand to have the same colour on his nails for too long. "I'm sure it'll take them a good while to fetch my shoes - they always take forever; I suppose my size must just be problematic - and I don't like to try unless I have every option, you understand. Now, Nana, with your exquisite taste: Lady Peep or Very Prive, or both?"
This was, by far, Mihail's favourite of all the Louboutin stores in New York City. While the others were more than glad to tend to their clientele with equal quantities of generosity, there was no store where the employees were as susceptible to his demands or as keen to make each customer's experience perfect as in this one, and that was just the way he liked it. There was no point in visiting one of these luxury stores if they were not going to give you the shopping experience which matched their price tags; thus, whenever he visited, he was promptly treated to the glass of champagne which he now gripped between slender fingers, and the store girls were happy to run around and find him some treat from an obscure little Turkish bazaar some way down the road. It was ideal, and the exact reason he visited so often.
What he never expected, however, were interruptions, and his head flicked up in confusion as someone spoke his name, momentarily distracted from the pictures of that handsome Australian he'd been taking out to dinner for a few weeks now. Luckily, the familiar voice belonged to someone he liked very much (a rarity in itself), and he pulled himself from his seat to match her greeting, uncharacteristically smiling. "Nana," he replied, returning the kisses. "I assure you, these girls could not bring themselves to mistreat me if they wanted nothing more. I think they'll find I am their finest customer." He let out a light laugh in response, his eyes drifting across the room to where the women had now disappeared into their backroom to find the requested shoes and sizes. The claim was likely accurate. Father would have had an aneurysm if he knew how much Mihail had spent on shoes over the past few years, writing off the costs as 'business expenses' and hiding the majority his vast collection in his Tribeca apartment to avoid detection. "I am almost on my way to three thousand, did you know? You should visit sometime soon; I would love to show you."
Greetings over with, Mihail dropped languidly back to his seat, claiming the champagne glass once more and taking a long sip as he tilted his head to gesture for his friend to find a place beside him. They had not seen each other in a while - his fault, in truth, given that endless holiday he had taken and how allegedly busy he had been with work - and he was eager to catch up.
"I forgot to say, you look gorgeous as ever. This outfit is perfect for you, and that coat," he nodded towards the coatrack where her bright pink affair had been hung beside his own fur, the only two currently on display due to current lack of other customers, "I love it, I want one. Where did you get it?" His words were genuine, although his tone sounded less so, true humanity somehow impossible to express when he was more used to petty lies. The Thanasi leaned back in his seat, watching the girl who now stumbled into the room with a selection of products from the store's beauty section downstairs, having heeded his instructions and brought only the deep crimson shades he favoured. The smile he now offered her instead was less pleasant, though he accepted the items she set on the table before the pair, waving the girl away with an irritable expression. Leonard would never have been this useless. "Well done. It only took you five minutes this time. Maybe, next time, we can shave it down to one or two and be a little less incompetent?"
Reaching for one of the scarlet pots of nail polish, he dangled it between thumb and forefinger to examine the contents, holding it out before the blonde girl at his side with an inquisitive expression. "Help me decide? I have a spa appointment later - you can join me, if you have the time - and you know I cannot abide the shades they offer half the time. Their colours are just so garish and cheap, I have to bring my own." Mihail drummed his square-cut nails against his chest to accentuate the silver shade painted on them, still perfect from his recent manicure only a week before, though he could not stand to have the same colour on his nails for too long. "I'm sure it'll take them a good while to fetch my shoes - they always take forever; I suppose my size must just be problematic - and I don't like to try unless I have every option, you understand. Now, Nana, with your exquisite taste: Lady Peep or Very Prive, or both?"