Style Of The Novels & Stories

I fell in love with his smoking style. Well, I know it might sound really odd, but I thought it was his strongest and coolest look. I’m sorry for the non-smoker, I know I’m not gonna promoting a healthy lifestyle here. I was at the campus that afternoon when I spotted him wearing distressed light blue jeans and a faded grey loose t-shirt, standing alone beside a standing ashtray and trash can, leaning on the outside walls of one of our campus buildings, and smoking. He looked really striking and showed a breath-taking coolness while he exhales the smoke from his curved thin lips. His cold, dark brown, sharp-looking eyes were peeking behind his long, wavy, shoulder-length black hair, gazing a

I’m wearing Gucci loafers, some black pants and a white button-up, in my own home, and suddenly I feel overdressed. Unlike the other girls, Layla hasn’t had any work done. Her lips are full but natural, and her hips may be wide and built, but they haven’t been touched by a surgeon. Her beautiful brown eyes are also fixed on me, not looking around the house in awe. It’s almost like my wealth doesn’t impress her one bit. Like a ten-pound bass, I’m instantly hooked. “Yeah… that’s not really my style,” she smiles. “What is your style?”

"I'm right on time." Ziah approached, and I was struck by his style. He was dressed in a sleek, white turtleneck sweater that hugged his muscles, paired with tailored grey pants, polished black Chelsea boots, a stylish watch, and a hint of sophisticated cologne, he exuded the confident air of a high-fashion model, or better still, a fashion god. His curls looked more defined, luxuriously thick and glossy, and fell into soft, defined ringlets. "You like what you see?" he winked at me.

Halton knew the reason for her silence but still, he wanted to lighten up her mood even if it's just a little. He noticed that she was still very beautiful as ever. With a beautiful face as hers, any man would fall for her and he was no exception. The love she had for her was pure brotherly love. "I see we have swapped styles," Halton said pointing at her outfit. "What?" She gave him a confused look. "Wearing casuals was my style and wearing formals was yours" Casuals and street style was his signature outfit that matched his boyish personality whereas her's was formal attire that matched her sophisticated and workaholic personality.

She also had the personality both of her mother and father. Normal.dotm 0 0 1 752 4290 zernan 35 8 5268 12.256 0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;

It was artfully dishevelled, as though a stylist had arranged the unbuttoned shirt and loosened tie just so. Funnily enough, it reminded Vivienne of a quote from Edward Pattison; about how during one of the scenes the stylist had fed a piece of wire inside the collar of his shirt so that they could fold and make the fabric look as rumpled as they wanted. The most intense form of pretentious dishevelment I’ve ever seen in my life.

What else do I expect? As the chorus echoes through the room, Josh's eyes find mine, and a subtle smile plays on his lips. The connection between us feels obvious. I take my time to admire him. His hair falls effortlessly on his face. He wears a simple, well-fitted black shirt. The fabric clings to the contours of his frame, subtly showing the underlying abs beneath. With a pair of dark denim jeans to complete the look, his effortless sense of style suggests a casual yet refined taste. I love it.

“Under those corporate parameters, are there specific stylistic vectors your tongue wants my hand to steer his choices toward?” I seized the tactical opening instantly. “Yes. Absolute confirmation. Nothing that translates to a low-tier mate trap. Zero threads that imply a brainless bimbo aesthetic. My image requires an architecture that registers as highly intelligent, yet entirely sharp. Dominant. Historic. Symmetrical cleavage represents a viable asset, but nothing that evokes the visual data of a primitive breeding den pin-up.” “The metrics are logged. My hands will manipulate what we can behind the veil.”

“I came to choose.” His lips curved faintly. “That,” he replied, “is exactly why this will work.” ******** A quiet settled between us after the contracts were signed. Then Keal leaned back in his chair, studying me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. Not appraisal. Not possession. Something closer to calculation mixed with… consideration. Then he spoke. “I’ve instructed my personal assistant to engage Style Luxury as your stylist.” For a second, I was sure I had misheard him. “…I’m sorry?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Lucien's angry voice makes the stylists bow and apologize. Nina rolls her eyes in secret. The stylist just picks the clothes that doesn't fit his mind, and he smashes the newspaper on his head. He's just a man of no culture, no quality, no humanity! But she wisely chooses silence. She doesn't want to piss Lucien off. The stylist carefully asks, "President Gray, what style do you think is good?" "Not coquettish style!" Lucien roars in a forthright voice.