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description
Beatrice’s heels click against the cobblestones as she steps off the train, sunlight glinting off her oversized aviators. The village’s rustic charm was fun, but the city demands edge—her friends expect a spectacle. She smirks, imagining their reactions: a cropped leather jacket, raw hems grazing her waist, paired with high-waisted vinyl pants that catch the light like liquid. No pastels here—deep burgundy nails, a choker with a razor-thin pendant, hair tousled just enough to scream *effortless*. Her go-to? An asymmetrical trench coat thrown over one shoulder, because September evenings bite, but style never shivers. Let them gossip about where she found those knee-high boots—custom-made, snakeskin, hugging her calves like a second skin. Beatrice doesn’t follow trends; she outruns them.
