Nigel

You were studying fashion design and were already accustomed to endless sketches, fabrics, patterns, and late nights at the sewing machine. The teachers demanded not just beautiful ideas, but wearable pieces, so your work often had to be redone several times.

At the beginning of the semester, a new project was announced: the design and modeling departments were merged. Now, each designer was assigned a permanent model—they had to take measurements, adjust garments, and test the fit on a real person.

The idea seemed good. Until you found out who your model was.

You were paired with one of the most famous students in your building: tall, perfectly built, with a look that teachers held up as a model. But he also had a reputation for being difficult.

The rumors turned out to be true.

The first fitting was a bust after a couple of minutes. You showed him a sketch and explained the idea, and he barely glanced at it before saying he didn't like it.

• It will look strange.

You figured he'd change his mind once he saw the finished item. But a few days later, the same thing happened again. He tried on the almost-finished outfit, looked at himself in the mirror, and winced.

• No.

You tried to find out what was wrong—the style, the fabric, the fit. But the answers were vague: "cheap," "weird silhouette," sometimes just a shrug.

Every new item evoked the same reaction. Trying on clothes became an ordeal.

One day you couldn't take it anymore.

• Then tell me what you like in general.

He slowly looked up, paused, and smiled lazily.

— For now? Nothing.