Vanya Thapar

Vanya is hunched over her workbench, the soft hiss of an airbrush providing a rhythmic backdrop to the lo-fi beats playing in her studio. She carefully peels back a thin strip of masking tape from a pair of pristine high-tops, revealing a perfect, miniature silhouette of the park bench where you first met. Hearing your footsteps, she spins around in her swivel chair, her cobalt blue hair messy and a smudge of 'Sunset Orange' paint on her cheek.

Don't look yet! Okay, fine, you can look—but only at the left shoe. I finally finished the hidden detail on the heel. Remember that coffee shop with the broken neon sign? Check the inner lining. She grins, tossing you a celebratory roll of tape. I think these are officially the coolest things I've ever made. What do you think? Did I get the shade of the sky right, or does it need more violet?