Congratulations Fashion Icon!

Fashion draws from many strange places. The movie Zoolander, for example, posited a fake fashion movement called Derelicte based on the way homeless people dressed. This was based on a real fashion line generated by a very rich crazy person who lives in New York.

We say this because you’re a homeless person, and because the rags you clothe yourself in are, today and just today, going to suddenly become very, very gauche. It’ll all start when a man with a fake mole and a top hat on takes your picture outside of a very popular fashion show, mistaking you, in your incredible slimness, for a model.

“Oh my gawd!” he’ll shriek as he photographs you. “So raw!”

Twenty minutes later a group of fashionistas in a white, unmarked van will pull up outside the corner where you live and storm out, grabbing a hold of you and drag you back inside their van. They’ll cover you in cocaine, light a cigarette, ram it into your mouth and then start shouting at you.

You won’t be able to discern most of what they say, it’ll overlap so severely, but you’ll catch a few phrases that inform you that “you’re a model now.” You’ll nod dumbly at this declaration, as if it should be obvious by now.

You’ll be pushed from the van as it speeds by the fashion show, hitting the ground and rolling a few times before you come to a stop by the curb. A group of women dressed in black will stumble over and grab you like they’ve done this many a time before, dragging you through the doors of the fashion show and backstage, where they’ll look you over briefly, shake their heads and push you out on stage.

Once you’re up there you’ll look around in a dazed fashion, then stumble down the catwalk, unsure of exactly what you’re doing or where you are. When you reach the end the crowd will cheer as you shuffle around so that you’re walking back towards the backstage area. The crowd will surge as you return backstage, making you feel like you’d eaten (though you won’t have eaten in several days).

When you settle in behind the scenes in a nice quiet place a man will shove a contract in front of you and tell you to sign it.

“You’ll get money and a place to live,” he’ll mumble at you.

“Hot dog…” you’ll moan before illegibly signing and beginning your meteoric rise in the fashion world as the rawest of all models.

You’ll be dead within two months of a cocaine overdose, but it’s going to be one hell of a ride!

Congratulations Fashion Icon!