INT. FASHION RUNWAY BUILDING ROOM PLACE – NIGHT
Everyone is hanging out, waiting for the fashion show. It’s mesmerizing with all the haute couture and nice clothes and such. Women are dressed to the nines and some even to the tens. Even ugly chicks are smoking hot because they are wearing expensive things that look nice. Everybody is trying to be cool and detached and succeeding. Also drinking champagne of an expensive kind.
The camera drifts (I have some ideas on how to get this look right — on a wire maybe?) through the crowd to the end of the runway (the end like the end where the models turn around and walk back). There are a bunch of photographers with expensive cameras that have expensive lenses on them. I know I keep saying “expensive,” but it really can’t be understated here. Everything is expensive.
Two of the photographers, we’ll call them FRANCH and CHARLTON, wait for the show to begin.
This is supposed to be the best collection of Fashion Week.
I didn’t hear that.
Well, I did.
Okay. That doesn’t make it so. Dior was bangarang, so I don’t foresee this being more bangarang.
It’s not all about bangarang.
Some sick techno music begins to play. Maybe it’s Skrillex? I’ll have to listen to some and see what’s the deal about this Skrillex guy. I know he’s popular, but I’ve been real busy lately. I’ll check him out though. Might be good to have him on the soundtrack.
Stop being a prissy bitch.
You’re right, we should focus.
Holy shit! Charlton didn’t even mean to make the PERFECT joke about photographers! FOCUS. Wow. All the photographers in the vicinity LOL. Seriously, Charlton. Good stuff.
As the music thumps, the photographers ready their cameras and the audience readies their eyes. Some lighting effects or something.
I know you’re expecting some models to come out at this point, but they DON’T. It’s HORSES!
Big fucking thoroughbred horses!
Muscular, powerful beasts DRESSED in luxurious silks and colorful sequins and wearing like the horse version of high heels.
People are mesmerized by the mesmerizing, hypnotizing nature of these horses wearing ball gowns and exquisitely cut tuxedos and shit.
People are in awe.
Franch and Charlton snap and snap and snap. Sometimes it’s hard for the photographers to focus (double meaning) because the glorious fashions are incredible. They do their best, knowing if they sell their own personal pictures, it will be better financially than if they don’t sell them.
Finally all the horse models are done walking and all walk out together in a line. Just a runway filled with majestically dressed horse models. Powerful horse models.
As they stand, a magnificent collection of spangled beasts, RALPH LAUREN walks out.
Of course it’s him. He’s taken his horse obsession to its logical conclusion and it’s glorious.
He bows and the place erupts in volcanic applause.
Franch and Charlton furiously snap, but it’s hard to keep their expensive cameras with expensive lenses steady from the thundering applause.
Someone cries. It’s that beautiful.
INT. BACKSTAGE – NIGHT
Ralph Lauren addresses the horses and human helpers undress them, brush them, feed them oats.
It’s has been a glorious show. And you have all been wonderful.
A particularly powerful horse neighs. It has been wonderful.
RALPH LAUREN (CONT’D)
But you have all outlived your usefulness. Shipping you back from whence you came would be just backbreaking financially. So, without further ado…
An assistant (hot female 20s) hands him a pistol and he begins shooting the horses in the head one by one.
It’s brutal and barbaric, but also poetic because we hear string music.
This goes on for a while until all the horses are dead.
Ralph Lauren hands his pistol back to his assistant and uses some hand sanitizer. All the people leave the room. A room full of dead, bleeding horses.
After a beat, the assistant comes back in and turns the light off.
(This was a commentary about how models are treated by the fashion industry.)