Andre's Showcase. Kimberly Wyatt

serious? He’s wearing a McDonald’s uniform!’

      ‘I know. But maybe we could do a post on fast-food fashion?’

      Andre cocked his head as if he was listening hard to something. ‘Wait, what’s that I hear?’

      Tilly frowned. ‘What?’

      ‘The sound of the bottom of the barrel being scraped. Fast-food fashion? What the hell? Fast food is the enemy of the animals, Tillz, and nothing can help that tragic uniform.’

      ‘It could be ironic,’ Tilly said lamely. ‘Or we could do a top tips kind of thing. Like, how to stop your work uniform looking so naff.’

      ‘Do you think Vogue would ever do a fast-food fashion feature?’

      ‘No but . . .’

      ‘But what?’

      ‘Spotted isn’t Vogue.’

      Andre’s heart sank. What was Tilly trying to say? They weren’t Vogue . . . and they never would be? He looked back at the McDonald’s guy and his stomach rumbled. He could murder a burger right now. ‘Oy vey!’ he muttered under his breath.

      Tilly hooked her arm in his. ‘What is it? What’s up, Dre?’

      ‘Nothing. I’m just hangry.’ Andre tore his eyes away from the McDonald’s guy. He was not going to give up on being vegan, no way. He wasn’t a heartless animal murderer like his dad. He was better than that.

      ‘What’s hangry?’ Tilly asked.

      ‘It’s when you’re so hungry you become angry and right now I am at boiling point, toooot !’

      ‘Why don’t we go and get something to eat then?’ Tilly said, her face brightening. ‘You never know, we might spot someone cool in the sandwich bar.’

      ‘Yeah, and bacon sandwiches might fly.’ Andre sighed. ‘OK then, let’s go cure this hanger.’

      Once they’d got their sandwiches – salmon for Tilly and humous and vegetables for Andre – Tilly took off her cap and stared at him.

      ‘What is it, Dre? You haven’t been your normal self at all lately. We’re all worried about you.’

      ‘All?’ Andre frowned.

      ‘Yes, all of Il Bello.’

      Andre felt a warm glow inside as he imagined the street crew huddled together talking about him, their faces full of concern. It’s killing me that he’s so down, he imagined Billie saying. Andre is our everything, I don’t know what we’d do without him. The warm glow faded. He didn’t want to be their everything. It was too much pressure.

      ‘What’s going on?’ Tilly continued.

      ‘Nothing. It’s just . . . I’ve been worried about Spotted . . . about losing subscribers. That harem-pant post didn’t get nearly as many likes as our previous posts. I’m worried I’m losing my touch.’

      ‘You’re not losing your touch! Oh my God, Dre, you’re the most fabulous person I’ve ever met.’

      ‘Really?’ Andre searched her face for any evidence she was lying but Tilly’s eyes were wide and deadly serious.

      ‘Of course. You’re FETCH with a capital everything, remember.’

      Andre nodded. ‘It’s true.’

      Tilly leaned forward, her face lighting up. ‘I’ve got it!’

      ‘Got what?’

      ‘Who we need to feature on our next post.’

      Andre looked around the sandwich bar behind him. A middle-aged guy wearing a greasy anorak and sporting the lamest comb-over was sitting by the door stuffing some kind of pie into his face. Gravy was trickling down his chin.

      ‘You’ve got to be kidding? You want to do a feature on pie-face chic?’

      ‘What?’ Tilly looked at the guy. ‘No! Not him – you.’

      ‘Me?’

      ‘Yes. We should feature you as the founder of Spotted.’

      ‘But there’s already something on me on the About page.’

      ‘Yes, but it isn’t a proper feature.’ Tilly was beaming now. ‘Go on, it would be great. We can do a proper photo shoot – in the Stable Studio. I could get some epic shots of you in there.’

      ‘Do you really think it would be a good idea?’ Andre could tell from her face that she did but he wanted to hear her say it again. He could never have too much of hearing people say he was fabulous.

      ‘Yes! You’re everything that Spotted is about . . . and your look is always on point.’

      ‘What about my hair – don’t forget my hair,’ Andre prompted.

      Tilly grinned. ‘Yes, Dre – you have the fetchest hair in the entire universe.’

      Andre grinned back at her. Tilly was right. It would be great to feature himself on Spotted. It was a chance to publish a new post and make himself feel better all in one go.

      ‘OK, you’re on,’ he said.

      ‘Awesome!’ Tilly replied.

      When they got back to WEDA Tilly went straight to the Stable Studio to sort out the lights and camera for the shoot and Andre headed for his dorm room to pick an outfit. Thankfully, MJ wasn’t there. Andre loved his straight-talking room-mate but sometimes – like when Andre was trying to figure out what to wear – his dry commentary could get a little annoying.

      ‘OK, let’s create a fashion masterpiece!’ Andre declared, flinging his wardrobe door open. ‘Oh . . .’ His wardrobe was practically empty. He turned and looked around his side of the room. His wardrobe was practically empty because almost all of his clothes seemed to be draped over every piece of furniture and most of the floor. Andre started making three separate heaps on the floor – YES, NO and MAYBE. When he came across his favourite pair of harem pants he shuddered and was about to fling them on the NO pile when he had a thought. He’d always loved those trousers. He’d got them from his favourite flea market in New York. Why should he let some stupid joker’s comments put him off his beloved trousers? What if he wore them for the shoot? Reclaimed the harem pant – made them fashion forward again. Andre’s skin started to tingle. He was a young man on a mission. He put the harem pants in the YES pile.

      Almost a whole hour later – and after several texts from Tilly along the lines of ‘Where the hell are you?’ – Andre had completed his look. As well as the harem pants he was wearing Docs with the laces undone, his favourite vintage Adidas shirt and a couple of gold chains, and his fingers were adorned in gold rings.

      ‘And now for the finishing touch,’ he said to his reflection in the wardrobe mirror before fetching his black mascara from his desk drawer. He added a touch to his eyelashes for extra pop. Whenever anyone asked if he was wearing make-up he always fluttered his eyelashes and said, ‘Who, me? Darling, I was born this way!’ He stepped back and admired his finished look.

      ‘On. Point,’ he murmured with a grin.

      His phone started ringing, rudely interrupting his self-admiration party. He didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know it would be Tilly. ‘OK, OK, I’m coming already.’ He grabbed his room keys and headed for the door.

      Down in the Stable Studio Tilly had set up a couple of lights in front of her graffiti mural and she had her favourite Twenty One Pilots track playing.

      ‘At last!’ she said as Andre came in.

      ‘I’m sorry but a true diva cannot hurry his craft,’ Andre said, coming to stand in front of her. ‘What do you reckon?’

      ‘You look amazing!’ Tilly grinned. ‘I love those harem pants on you.’