𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗏

𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗐𝖾𝖽 & 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽

september 15, 2024

10:00 am 

after waking up and pushing through a quick workout, i found myself walking back to brewed & bound, the café tucker and i had been to just a couple of days ago. the place had lingered in my mind since then—the warmth of it, the quiet hum of life inside, the way it seemed like the kind of place where time slowed just enough to let you breathe. today, i was there alone, armed with a caramel latte and the weight of an article deadline hanging over me.

social media and the future of style.

the topic felt both familiar and exhausting, like a song i had played on repeat until i wasn't sure if i loved it or hated it. i stared at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen, fingers poised but unmoving. the words i wanted were there—somewhere—but trying to make sense of them felt impossible. social media had transformed fashion in ways that were both liberating and suffocating, giving anyone with a phone a voice while drowning everything in a constant, dizzying cycle of trends.

i took a slow sip of my coffee, letting the warmth settle in my chest, grounding me. the thing about social media was that it made fashion feel democratic—anyone could start a trend, anyone could be seen. but it also made it relentless. one moment you were in, the next you were outdated, lost in the algorithm's endless churn. and beyond that, beneath the aesthetics and the carefully curated posts, there was something else. a hunger. a need to be seen, to be validated.

i thought of tucker, of the way he had teased me about the "coffee shop aesthetic," like we were all playing parts in a film we hadn't realized we auditioned for. it made me wonder—were we really expressing ourselves, or just molding our lives to fit the version we thought people wanted to see?

i exhaled and finally typed, "social media has redefined the fashion landscape, shifting the spotlight from the runway to the feed." the words felt right, but there was something bittersweet in them. fashion had always been about storytelling, about identity. now, it was also about performance.

the soft chime of the café door opening pulled me out of my thoughts. instinctively, i lifted my gaze, and there he was—tucker.

my fingers hovered over the keyboard as i watched him scan the room, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his hair just messy enough to look effortless. he had this way of existing, of moving through spaces like he belonged there without even trying. or maybe he just didn't care if he belonged at all.

our eyes met. a beat passed. and then—

he smirked.

something fluttered deep in my stomach, an involuntary reaction i immediately wanted to ignore.

i quickly looked back at my screen, pretending to be immersed in my work, but it was too late. i could already hear the familiar sound of his boots against the wooden floor, already sense his presence before he even sat down.

"what's this? our spot already?" tucker's voice was laced with amusement as he slid into the seat across from me without waiting for an invitation.

i rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. "i didn't realize we had a 'spot.'"

he leaned back in his chair, stretching out as if he owned the place. "well, we've been here twice now. that makes it official."

i let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking my head. "right. that's how it works."

his gaze flickered to my laptop. "so, what are you writing about?"

i hesitated, tapping my fingers against my cup. "social media and how it's changing fashion."

tucker raised an eyebrow. "let me guess—some deep dive about how we're all slaves to the algorithm?"

i smirked. "something like that. but also about how it's giving people a voice. making fashion more accessible."

he nodded slowly, considering my words. "so you're saying i should start posting my outfits?"

i laughed, shaking my head. "oh, absolutely. role model's daily fits would break the internet."

he grinned, shaking his head. "you joke, but maybe i'll surprise you."

there was something easy about him, about the way he fit into this space, into this moment. like he made everything feel lighter, like the deadlines and pressure pressing against me had loosened their grip just a little.

"do you actually like writing this kind of stuff, or is it just, like, an assignment?" he asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

the question caught me off guard. most people assumed fashion journalism was just fluff—trends and glossy spreads, nothing deeper than that. but tucker... he was looking at me like he actually wanted to know.

"i love it," i admitted, surprising even myself with how easily the words came. "it's more than just clothes. fashion is culture. it's identity. and now, with social media, it's changing faster than ever. people who never had a voice in the industry before are the ones setting the trends now."

tucker tilted his head, intrigued. "so, you're saying the internet made everyone a fashion critic?"

i laughed. "pretty much. but it also made fashion more personal. before, it was just whatever designers put out. now? one viral post can change everything."

he smirked. "so, if i start a 'role model's outfits of the day' account, i could be the next big thing?"

i rolled my eyes, but i was still smiling. "you might be onto something."

he took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim of his cup, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. i met his gaze, waiting, but he just shook his head with a quiet chuckle.

"what?" i pressed, narrowing my eyes slightly.

"nothing. just... you talk about fashion the way people talk about their first love."

i felt my cheeks warm, but i rolled my eyes to play it off. "because it is. fashion isn't just about trends—it's storytelling." i tapped my laptop screen. "this? this is proof of how much things are changing."

tucker let out a low whistle. "damn. you really are passionate about this."

"of course i am." i shrugged. "if you're not passionate about what you do, then what's the point?"

he studied me for a moment, then asked, "so, if fashion is your love, what's your dream?"

i hesitated, because saying it out loud made it real. "to write for vogue, elle—maybe even the new york times. somewhere big. somewhere my words actually mean something."

he grinned. "yeah, i can see that. you'd kill it."

something in my chest tightened. his confidence in me felt... different. too real. too intimate.

i smirked to deflect. "what about you? what's your dream?"

his expression faltered, just for a second. "i don't know yet."

"no clue at all?"

"not really," he admitted. "but i think i'd like to figure it out somewhere that isn't here."

for some reason, that made my heart clench. maybe because i understood. maybe because i felt it, too.

i nudged his coffee cup with mine in a mock toast. "wherever you end up, i hope they have good coffee."

he chuckled, tapping his cup against mine. "same to you, fashion writer."

and for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly right.

@𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖺𝖿.𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒...

replied by felixxaldridgee: WHO DAT?!?

⤷islaf.sinclair no comment
⤷felixxaldridgee  bring me something pleaseeee
⤷islaf.sinclair i'll think about it..

replied by kynewman: is that who i think it is??
⤷islaf.sinclair no comment
⤷kynewman IT IS
⤷islaf.sinclair no comment

@𝗋𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒...

replied by kynewman: i knew it!
⤷rolemodel knew what exactly..?
⤷kynewman that ur with isla
⤷rolemodel oh, yeah 😊

🦭

𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗌, im in love with isla and tucker. and ky lol.

on other note im seeing saintlaurentcowboy today!!! like today feb 24!!! im helllaa nervous bc im going with my cousin and her friends!! ayee making new friends!!! next chapter i'll tell u how was the concert!!

if you have any ideas, suggestions, or just things you'd love to see, drop them in the comments, bbgs! 

sub, like and comment!!

enjoy!