Who Said The Most Fashionable Quotes In TV Shows?

If you are going to be BAD, then you have to do it the BAD way... It's pretty simple: 1) Don't get caught 2) Always have a Plan B 3) If all else fails... Run...Run for your life! Everyone has a bad side. Some try to deny it's existence, some hide it and others well...they rule the world with it. In the book of being BAD, there are ninety-nine formulas for world domination... Number one: You aren't BAD until you can walk around the school dressed in all pink and have everyone afraid to approach you. Number two: You aren't BAD until you can break into a certain bad boys house and well... do the wrong kinds of stuff. Number three: You aren't bad until quite frankly, you have declared vengeance against the bad boy. ~*~ "I heard you like bad boys," Blade says with a vivid smirk on his face. I glared up at him, without responding clenching my fists fighting the urge to punch him in the face. "So...?" He says after a couple of seconds of silence. "So what?" "So what do you think...Tinker Bell?" He says emphasizing on the stupid name. His face moved closer to mine and I stared back into his green eyes, watching the fire inside ignite. I smirked, "Then find me one." Blade grins at my witty retort and shrugs it off. "I look at you and I see cotton candy, but then you open your mouth... and suddenly you turn into liquorice," he scoffs. "Welcome to the game bitch, your move, now let's play."

On our wedding day, my bride insists on wearing an old, beat-up watch with the million-dollar wedding dress I buy her. I call off the wedding on the spot. She looks at me in shock. "You called off the wedding just because of a watch?" I take out the divorce agreement and tell her to sign. "Yes. Because of that watch." Everyone calls me crazy. They cannot believe I would end a ten-year relationship over something so worthless and file for divorce in front of everyone. Dad walks up and slaps me across the face. "Get on your knees, you disgrace." My mother-in-law shrieks that I have ruined her daughter's future by returning her like damaged goods. I look at the watch on her wrist, which is stopped at 3:07, and I smile. Then, I phone my assistant. "It's time. Release everything. I want a divorce."

Fashion designer Sylvania Scarlet is about to marry Russell Thompson. But just as she says her vows, masked gunmen storm in. They don’t just steal her wedding ring; they take jewelry, money, and other valuables. But one thing stands out… her ring was meant for someone called "The Don." Shocked and confused, Sylvania becomes obsessed with finding out who The Don is. As she searches for answers, her marriage starts falling apart. Russell, once loving, becomes violent, forcing her to run away and start over. Wanting to rebuild her life, Sylvania starts her own fashion business, Scarlet Fashions, and quickly becomes famous. But she doesn’t know that long before the wedding, she had already caught the eye of a powerful man. Zagaff Manscent, a feared Mafia boss, has been at war with his rival, Victor Morano. When Zagaff first saw Sylvania in a newspaper, he was drawn to her beauty and talent. He wanted her, but he knew the risks. Victor would do anything to hurt him, even going after someone he loved. To protect Sylvania, Zagaff pushed his feelings aside and stayed away. But after the wedding robbery, Zagaff is furious, convinced that Victor is behind it, making their war even worse. One night at Divas Deluxe, Sylvania meets The Don; the man she has been searching for. She is drawn to him, unaware of the deadly battle surrounding him. As they grow closer, Sylvania finds herself caught between Russell, who refuses to let her go, and Zagaff. Then, she finds out she’s pregnant. With danger all around and the fight between Zagaff and Victor Morano getting worse, Sylvania must make a choice among Love, Power, or Revenge. Will she survive this dangerous game… or become its next victim?

My grandfather, Marvin Vega, arranges a blind date for me. The guy, Hugo Crawford, comes from a well-respected scholarly family. Wanting to make a good impression on Hugo, I put extra effort into dressing up. But I have barely taken my seat when Hugo's self-proclaimed "gold-digger detector" childhood friend, Marlene Welch, comes charging over. She crosses her arms and sweeps a disdainful look over my outfit. "You're covered in designer brands from head to toe. How much are you planning to squeeze out of Hugo?" Hugo helplessly pulls her back and explains apologetically to me in a low voice, "She just went through a breakup, so she can't stand women who wear designer brands. Please don't take it personally." I smile and say nothing, figuring it's best not to make a scene at a first meeting. But Marlene starts criticizing me again, "You put on this whole pampered heiress act with the designer clothes and jewelry just so men will willingly bankroll you. "All this designer stuff must be from some ex-boyfriend you bled dry, right? Since I was little, I've seen plenty of fake socialites like you who'll stop at nothing to marry into money and bleed a man dry." I let out an exasperated laugh at hearing such vicious, prejudiced remarks. I then glance at the Patek Philippe on my wrist. Even in ten years, she still won't be able to afford what I'm wearing right now.

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Besides, the brand needs new blood." I stared at the man I'd spent five years with. Suddenly, his face looked sharp, unfamiliar. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've stayed up working on this collection? And you want to give it to some new assistant?" "Evelyn, don't be so petty. It's just a preview." His expression turned cold. "I've already decided." I clenched my fists, a thousand emotions churning inside me. Fine. If you're going to treat me like this, don't blame me for leaving you.

On the day I went to try on my wedding dress, Enzo had said he would come with me—but he never showed up. The train of the gown was too long. I stood alone in front of the mirror, bending over again and again to fix it more than a dozen times. The third time I stepped on the hem, my phone finally buzzed. 'Natalie just came back and isn't used to the weather here. I'll go pick her up. You try on the dress first.' The next second, a new post popped up on social media. Natalie had uploaded a photo. In it, Enzo was crouched in front of her, one hand wrapped around her slender ankle as he carefully fastened the strap of her high heels. The caption was only one line. 'He still couldn't bear to let me bend down.' When I tapped into the post, I saw that Enzo had already liked it. The bridal assistant sensed the shift in the air and tried to comfort me in a low voice. "Ms. Blackwood, Mr. Beck really cares about you. He was worried you might secretly diet and hurt your health, so he specifically told us not to alter the waistline any further." I smiled. He cared about me, yes. But his care had never stopped him from favoring someone else. I lowered my head and looked at the wedding dress on my body. Then it suddenly struck me. The thing that did not fit had never been the dress. It was this wedding.