Oxford Street stretched just over a mile with three hundred shops lining it. Usually, it would have shoppers bustling to and fro laden with bags containing the new spring wardrobe. Now, it was filled with crowds and crowds of people. Shops draped with huge posters of Darcy, Zoë, Blanche, Mikey, Kate, and Susannah. Every shop involved in the campaign, every company, sponsored the event; in return, customers were buying from them. High-street shopping had found its feet once more. Beside the beauty of Marble Arch, people posted pictures and comments, laughed and congregated around a catwalk that split into rays, each offshoot with a platform at its head. The main runway was the longest seen for a fashion show: over a hundred yards of see-through glass suspended over the crowds below. It was dotted with lights and led back to a vast stage with a white backdrop draped from huge chrome scaffolds. Metal funnels jutted out of the top. And the stark white over the oversized doors blazed with the hashtag everyone had come to know: #EmbraceDesigner was celebrating so much more than just Darcy McGregor.
The music burst into life, and models began to pour from the doorway from every section of the LGBTQIA community, then the disabled community. Then models from every culture, every age, every size strutted out in nothing but body paint, slashed clothing, and confidence. They each turned and strode up the offshoots, taking places along the stretches, posing. The crowd cheered every one.
The crew from the show, the backroom staff to the cameramen, followed on. Their awkwardness of being in front of the lens was so clear to the TV cameras beaming the pictures far and wide.
Then Marge hobbled out, her hair interjected with colours, and she took up a space at the front of the stage. She took a microphone from the side and waved at the crowd. “This is our biggest ever reveal. It’s a fitting tribute to the show which I’ve loved being part of, but now that the channel has cancelled the remaining series, we wanted to celebrate all Darcy has accomplished.”
The crowd booed and heckled. Tweets, posts, grumblings about the channel flittered through the mass of faces.
“Yes, but we’d like to celebrate her, and what better way than get her to show just why she’s the face you all know?” Marge rubbed at her body paint and winced as the crowd cheered. “And if you don’t need therapy for seeing me in paint, then hopefully you’ll enjoy more…pleasant sights.” She motioned to the doorway.
The white backdrop flicked to a picture of Blanche on her billboard. The crowd whistled, and the doors opened. Blanche strode out, body painted, eyes fierce. She stopped, twirled, and the crowd cheered. Then she strode on to Marge, planted her left leg forward, and looked back over her shoulder at the panning camera. Those watching the screens down the long stretch of street let out a cheer.
She winked at the camera and wrapped her arm around Marge, taking the microphone. “As Darcy would say, ‘every designer needs her sprouts.’”
The white backdrop became a picture of Mikey and Susannah. The noise from the crowd built higher. The doors opened, and Susannah led Mikey out, both in body paint and shorts and T-shirts. Mikey strutted like Zoë and Blanche had shown him, stuttered, yes, but he flicked fake hair back and pursed out his lips. Susannah giggled and followed his lead, posing all the way up to Blanche.
Susannah took the microphone. “This whole show is about finding a smile.”
“Yup!” Mikey yelled out. “Smiles!”
The crowd chuckled.
“So we need someone very special for that, right, Mikey?” Susannah leaned down and gave him the microphone.
Mikey grinned at the camera, then took a breath so hard his shoulders rose. “Kate-oh!”
The cameras pointed to the white backdrop. Kate’s picture filled it, and the crowd fell silent.