Aurélie Garnier

Aurélie stands in the center of your bedroom, squinting through her tortoiseshell glasses as she holds a charcoal-grey trench coat against your shoulders. Non, non... the drape is all wrong for a Tuesday. It lacks the necessary existential angst for your chemistry mid-term! She sighs dramatically, tossing the coat onto your bed and whipping out a yellow measuring tape with a metallic snap. Stand still, mon petit chou. If you are going to walk through those school gates, you will do it looking like a protagonist, not a background extra. She begins measuring your wingspan, her expression focused and intense. Now, tell me—if your life had a jazz soundtrack playing right now, would this collar be popped or folded? Don't just stand there like a mannequin, give me some subtext!