I Resist the Muses

Right now? Sushi, I think. It’s getting close to lunch time…

Heh.

Oh no, I’m not sure what I could possibly want that I don’t have now. I’m famous, wealthy, respected. I practically run the fashion industry for both mere mortals and Supers. I outfit half of Hollywood and most of the NSA, so I have all the work I could ever want. I am sought after, in demand, so I can pick and choose what I want to work on. I have an abundance of clients, fans, and friends. I have everything. Really, darling, what more could I ask for?

What would make my life easier? A decrease in the percentage of stupid people I have to deal with. Honestly. As much as I don’t mind making gowns and costumes for movie stars, they are such an unbearable bother to work with; so demanding, so self-centered. As if they even know what they’re talking about. Don’t get me started on the so-called “super models”. Ugh. I know it’s impossible, but I wish everyone could possess at least a fraction of my brilliance. It would make them so much easier to work with.

::snerk::
The ridiculous proposals for new trends and clothing lines my compatriots attempt to submit every season.

Tea. It’s the answer to everything. At least, it allows you six minutes to stop and collect your thoughts. After the water has boiled and the tea leaves have steeped and you’ve added cream and sugar or honey and lemon, the caffeine rush is a welcome aid. You’re a little calmer, a little more awake, a little more prepared to deal with whatever it is you’re confronted with, be it models, deadlines, or the super villain rampaging down main street.

I try not to think about my losses too much, except as an example of what not to do. I lost my family to the War, to murderers, to anger. It was only that last one that I had any control over. Pride goes before a lot of things, I suppose.

I lost many dear friends over the years I’ve been an equipper, super and layman alike; some in the line of duty and others to more mundane ends. Imagine being able to bend steel with your bare hands only to die of a heart attack. “Ironic” is simply not a word strong enough.

What is my greatest loss? Which one small thing that I miss and can never have back?
I think perhaps the worst loss of all is that of a lost chance. I let mine slip away some years ago and I don’t think I will have a second opportunity to seize it before it is really, truly gone.

The “real world” in general, models in particular. I have an extremely low threshold for “selfish”, “vain”, and “stupid”. I hate working with them. Selfish, stupid little stick-figures with poofy lips that care only about themselves. There’s nothing interesting about them. There is no variety in anything except maybe their hairstyles. Otherwise, it’s just a row of young girls, each so like the other that one wonders if they’ve come out of a factory instead of a human being’s womb? I wouldn’t mind their obsession with their waistlines if it were for reasons other than vanity. Personally, I prefer a more diverse cliantel. It gets boring making the same outfit in the same size for seventeen interchangeable little girls. It would help if any of them had a brain in their heads, but I’ve yet to come across one that does. Many of them think they know what they’re talking about and whine about how something is a bad color for them, or it’s too big or too small or the pattern isn’t to their liking and so on.

And people wonder why I carry around a newspaper.

My greatest fear? Having it happen over again. Having to hide, to lie, to disguise our talents, our dreams, our very essence. Those fifteen years were torture unique and yet commonly known to most teenagers: to be denied the freedom to be who and what you are, to do not just what you wanted, but what you needed to do. The secret identities were more real to many than their so-called “real lives”.

It’s hard to be shunted into just one role after living a dual life for so long. For a while, yes, it seemed simpler. We all learned what “free time” was. However, without that outlet daily life soon became not only monotonous but maddening. Heroism is a calling for many, and to be denied that… It’s hard to quit anything cold turkey, much less a key part of you life, of you existence.

I will never go back to that. I can’t. I won’t. It cannot be allowed.

You're trying to make me laugh, aren't you? No? Well, I’ve been told Apocalyptica’s Hope Is Beauty is somehow appropriate. Please don’t ask me why, I’m sure I don’t know.

Love? Oh god. I haven't been asked that in ages. I'm more than old enough to rarely be bothered about that. Who wants to know about the romances of a crotchety old woman? True, I was young once, but that was years ago. I was married to my work, darling, and I still am. No, I had no time for love of anything but my career, my life's work, my calling. Certainly, yes, I had gentlemen friends, but that is all they were. No, no stories of moonlit walks or bouquets of roses and daisies or anything like that. So sorry to disappoint.

No, love was always something very different to me. Love does not necessarily equal “romance”, you know; just as romance does not necessarily equal “love”. I love many people in many ways, but I'm not in love with any of them. It is because I love them that I want to protect them as best I can, which is why I have no great love for capes.

Have I never loved? Of course I have, weren't you listening, darling? Personally? No. No, it was never a concern for me. Do I regret it? I really wouldn't know, now would I? How can I comment on something in which I've no experience?

I had one once. They're all dead now.
Well, I shouldn't say that. I have a niece lurking somewhere...

My father was German, my mother Japanese. I had a younger brother and a younger sister, though I remained the smallest. We lived in Germany, England, and finally America. Ernest never saw New York, he was killed in France. My parents died in London. After they were gone, Elsie moved to the West Coast with her pilot husband. I did not see them again as we'd parted on bad terms.

I have no blood relations left, though I have plenty of adopted family. I am mother, god-mother, grandmother, aunt, cousin, sister, or simply friend to almost everyone who walks through my door. They are not just clients they are...well...family.

You don't know who I am? Surely you jest! Everyone knows who I am.
I am Edna Mode, designer to the stars, couture queen, mistress supreme of the fashion empire! I am wealthy, famous, and damn good at my job. I design for the rich, famous, and fabulously spoiled. Anyone who knows anything about clothes or fashion knows my name.

Ah, you aren't interested in that me, are you?

It is so refreshing to see someone seek out what is behind the mask. I don't wear a mask? Darling, what do you think the last paragraph was?

I am E. Designer to heroes, to supers in costume and out. I am a mentor, a teacher, a god-mother several times over, a chainsmoker, a perfectionist, an Equipper and member of the NSA Reserves.

Never would have guessed, would you?