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deadlyflames · 5 years

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Reverse Falls Dipfica, 34

I’m sorry this took so long but I hope you like it

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au

(Gonna say they’re like 16 or so in this)

Through the haze of incense and perfumes, Dipper Pines could barely breathe. Throngs of twirling bodies spun across the ballroom floor; they danced a swift and graceful waltz and had no trouble with the steps or the movements. The attendees of this ball were all prestigious individuals, thanks to the zealous effort of the Northwests to keep all of the undesirables from entering through their gates. The sheer wealth of the room was almost overwhelming. There were fine gowns and suits where ever he looked, and each person wore a detailed mask that was adorned with gems or outlined in gold. Only the wealthiest of the higher class were welcomed at such an event.

For that reason, Dipper was thankful his great uncle had not been offered an invitation. Stan would be swiping masks left and right, along with any decor or expensive looking silverware that caught his eye.

Mabel was currently off dancing with some heir to a massive fortune or something of the like. Dipper could still see flashes of her peacock dress in the crowd as the waltz continued. She had been surrounded by admirers as soon as they entered through the doors. She was always one to bask in the attention that was constantly showered upon her, and now that she had dozens of handsome rich boys flocking around her, she was sure to be occupied for the rest of the night.

While Mabel was no doubt having the time of her life, Dipper had tucked himself into a hidden and darkened hallway, leaning leisurely against the wall as he watched the waltzing figures in disinterest. He was hidden from their eyes and was perfectly content with that fact. He had only come to this masquerade at Mabel’s insistence, not in any mood to socialize with the aristocrats within this mansion. There had been a few young girls, future socialites and trophy wives, who had been eyeing him before he slipped into the darkness. He had no desire to converse with some flighty airhead, one who would most likely snicker behind a perfectly manicured hand if they discovered his and his sister’s profession as the resident magicians of this town. He would rather avoid such a conversation, along with the unfortunate aftermath which would likely involve him releasing a vicious curse or two.

Dipper had resigned himself to counting down the minutes until this masquerade would be over. However, his illusion of privacy was shattered when a girl invaded his precious sanctuary. She wore a dusky lavender dress that clung to her upper torso and flared out at the waist in a cloud of gossamer fabric. It made her look like she was floating as she raced around the corner and hid in the darkened and narrow hallway, standing directly opposite to Dipper. The delicate butterfly wings at her back crinkled as she pressed her body flat against the wall. The silver accents of her mask glinted under the limited lighting, along with the jewels at her neck. Her long blonde hair fell in sleek waves down her back, perfectly styled and in place.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and she pressed her hand against her heaving chest as she desperately tried to regain her breath. Her entire body seemed to sag with relief as she released a long sigh. Whatever relaxation she had gained by barging into his secluded corner was destroyed when she opened her eyes and actually realized Dipper was there. A squeak of surprise left her lips when she saw him standing across from her.

Dipper hadn’t recognized her upon her sudden appearance since the shock of the moment had stalled his thought process. Her face was concealed by the mask she wore and the cover of darkness that obscured her features. However, Dipper would know those big lilac eyes anywhere. He hadn’t expected her to be here, which, in hindsight, was a foolish assumption. This was her family’s Masquerade and it only made sense that she would return to Gravity Falls from her boarding school when it was winter break. As the surprise of the moment wore off, a smirk curved at his lips.

“Pacifica,” he said, standing to his full height and inclining his head in a silent greeting. “You look stunning.”

Her reaction was immediate, and her surprise at seeing him there melted away into an expression of rage.

“What are you doing here?” she sneered, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her eyes were burning as she glared in his direction, reflecting the glow of what little candlelight had filtered into the hallway.

Dipper shrugged at her question, and the ever-present smile on his face successfully riled her up even further. She never could control her temper when he was around.

“I was invited,” he replied. He watched in interest as Pacifica directed her glare towards the ballroom floor and cursed under her breath. “I’m sure the town would have rioted if the county’s most beloved pair of twins were snubbed an invitation to your family’s New Years Eve Masquerade.”

“And why would you even want to be here?” she asked, rolling her eyes in exasperation. She gestured towards the ballroom, just as a slower and softer string quartet filled the air and another waltz began. “You hate parties. Or socializing in general.”

Dipper ignored the jab that she made at his recluse nature. He was more than used to her sarcasm, he even enjoyed it from time to time. “I’m not exactly eager to be here, but Mable was insistent.”

She scoffed at that. “And God forbid Mable doesn’t get what she wants.”

It was her tone that set him off, along with the way that she spat out his sister’s name like it was poison. His brow twitched in irritation as he reached for the pendant at his collar. He stopped himself before his fingertips could brush the surface. He could tell she wore her bloodstone, the silver chain around her neck and the dark crystal tucked under her bodice gave that away. His amulet would have no effect on her. But his desire to snap back at her was overwhelming.

“And why are you here Pacifica?” he hissed, bitterness hanging on his words. “I know you hate these social events as much as I do.”

“It’s my parents’ party,” Pacifica countered, straightening her spine and holding her chin high. With her regal gown and the jewels she was adorned with, she looked like a queen. “I have to be here.”

“I’m surprised they even bothered to ship you back up to Gravity Falls,” he said, watching with a measure of satisfaction as her shoulders became tense.

“Shut up,” she whispered, her eyes darting towards the ballroom.

Dipper ignored her harsh demand, gaining far too much enjoyment from igniting her temper. “Funny, how your parents only acknowledge your existence when you need to make a publi-“

Dipper barely had time to react when Pacifica jolted forward without warning, pressing her chest against his so she effectively shoved him into the wall. Her hand was clamped over his mouth, but Dipper couldn’t bring himself to care. He was sure she could feel the desperate pounding of his heart, considering how firmly she was pressed against his chest. Pacifica, for her part, was perfectly composed as she pushed the two of them against the wall and focused all her attention on the outside of the hallway.

A woman with sandy blonde hair done up in an elaborate twist stormed past the narrow corridor. The woman’s artfully applied makeup and her elaborate mask did nothing to hide the ugly scowl on her lips, nor her identity. Though, Dipper doubted that even at a masquerade, Priscilla Northwest would ever want to remain anonymous. Her elegant crimson dress whispered against the ballroom floor as she swept past them. Pacifica pressed herself against him further, as if she were trying to force them both to disappear into the wall. Her head tucked itself neatly under his nose, and Dipper pressed his face into her hair and inhaled the scent of strawberries like a man plagued by starvation.

Once the woman was out of sight, Pacifica leaned back from him without removing her hand from his mouth. She peeked around the corner for a brief moment, making sure that her mother had truly passed them by without knowledge of their presence.

Dipper manoeuvred his head so he was free of her grasp. “Miss Northwest,” he murmured, angling his head so he could draw her attention back to him. She whipped around and stared up at him in shock when she realized their delicate position. “Are you hiding from your parents in order to be with me? I’m flattered.”

Pacifica immediately shoved herself away from him, her lip curling in barely repressed disgust.

“Screw you,” she hissed, keeping her voice barely above a whisper just in case her mother was close enough to hear.

Dipper knew his response was cheap, but he couldn’t help himself. “I hardly think this is the place.”

Pacifica backed further away from him, her cheeks becoming a bright and visible red under the limited lighting. She pressed her back into the wall as she glared in his direction.

“You’re repulsive,” she said. Dipper didn’t mind her venomous tone when she looked completely adorable while she was embarrassed and flustered. “And FYI, I only hid in this hallway because I thought it was empty. If I’d known you were in here I would have avoided it like the plague.” She paused in her tirade, looking thoughtful for a moment before she continued. “Speaking of which, get out.”

“I was here first,” Dipper replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded her. “Find your own hiding spot.”

“It’s my house,” she sneered in retaliation. “All the hiding spots are my hiding spots. Now get out.”

Dipper grinned, his green eyes glinting in the candlelight and his voice lowering into a sensual purr. “Make me.”

Her face flushed with further embarrassment and rage, glaring at him with all the bile that she could muster. Before long her face grew so warm from looking at him, that she was forced to turn her gaze towards the ground. Her exceptionally bright blush, and the fact that he had caused her sudden bashfulness made him beam with pride and jubilation.

“I swear, this night is cursed,” Pacifica hissed in exasperation, slumping into the wall. She showed no care for bending the wings that were strapped to her back. “First, my mom tries to pawn me off to any asshole with a wealthy father and a trust-fund.” Dipper stiffened at that statement. His smug grin faltered with the knowledge that she was being pursued by other young men at this party. “And then, when I finally get away from her, I run into you. The psycho mind-controlling magician that’s obsessed with me.”

It was like cold water was being tossed over his head, dousing any pleasure he had gained from this interaction. Something serpentine and spiteful coiled tightly in his stomach. He was aware that she knew how he felt. It’s not as if he hid it from her the last time he saw her in the summer. However, for her to point it out so candidly and with such hatred in her tone, stung more than he cared to admit. “Your vanity is astounding, Northwest,” he hissed under his breath. “I’m not obsessed with you.”

Pacifica looked back up at him with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her blush had vanished and she seemed thoroughly unconvinced. “So you weren’t smelling my hair before?” she asked in a deadpan tone.

Dipper froze, and his eyes grew wide as if he were staring death directly in the face. Crap. He had been hoping that she hadn’t noticed that.

“I was struggling to breathe through the chemicals,” he sneered, quickly covering his mortified expression with a look of disgust. “Did you drench your head in hairspray?”

“And all the times you stared at me from afar during the summer, and constantly crept around me?” Pacifica asked, pushing herself up from her slumped position against the wall. She stood taller than usual, due to the heels she had, no doubt, been forced to wear. “What, was that all for the sake of the journal?”

“Yes,” he said, holding his head high with the pride that he could manage. “And sometimes I found you marginally attractive. When you weren’t dressed like a slob, that is.”

She hummed in thought, and her eyes seemed to shift to a darker shade as she took a slow step towards him. “Then I guess you don’t care that we’re in this dark narrow hallway. All alone.” She took slow deliberate steps towards him as her words filtered through her rosy lips like silk. Within moments, the distance between the two of them was closed and her face was inches away from his own. “No sweat for Dipper Pines.”

It took all of Dipper’s strength not to shudder as she leaned in towards him, balancing precariously on the balls of her feet. He refused to show her weakness, even as she peered up at him with lilac eyes that were clouded by shadow. So, gnashing his teeth, he quickly snapped back at her. “It’s not.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, the corners of her eyes crinkling with irritation. A coy smile curled at her lips as she placed her hand against his chest. He could feel the warmth of her palm seeping through his clothes and into his skin.

“Then why is your heart beating so fast,” she murmured.

It would be too easy to lean into her touch and close that minuscule distance she had kept between their lips. It would be too easy to slip his hand to the nape of her neck and snake his arm around her waist, keeping her from squirming away while he kissed her. Unfortunately, such a reaction was exactly what she expected, exactly what she wanted. And Dipper wouldn’t allow himself to prove her right. However, since she had decided to play this game, there was no reason that he shouldn’t play along. He would like to see how long she could keep this up.

“You’re awfully fixated on my reaction to your flirtation,” Dipper whispered, inclining his head as he reached up to tuck a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Given the fact that she was the one to start this, her own pride wouldn’t allow her to recoil from him. Or perhaps, she didn’t actually mind it. “Are you sure I’m the one who’s obsessed?”

Pacifica didn’t move an inch as Dipper lightly traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips. She simply regarded him, with a strange look in her eyes. Without a hint of unease or hesitation, Pacifica reached up with her other hand and delicately ran her fingers through his hair. She never broke eye contact, so Dipper wouldn’t either. It was a silent challenge, a test to see which of them would break first.

It turned out to be Pacifica, though it had had nothing to do with him. A shrill voice commanded their attention and Pacifica immediately pushed herself away from him.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest!” Pricilla yelled, storming up to her daughter with an absolutely livid expression. Pacifica shrank back at the sight, curling in on herself and looking to the floor with shame. “You’re hiding from our guests? Why do you always act like a child? Do you gain some sick pleasure from embarrassing me?”

“No mother, I was just…”

“It doesn’t matter. Now come along,” Pricilla’s hand latched onto Pacifica’s arm like the claw of a monster, right before she dragged her out of the corridor. Dipper was quick to follow them, his heart jolting with an uncomfortable jitteriness when he saw Pacifica stumble as a result of being yanked along by her mother. “The Earl’s son has been waiting to dance with you all night. If you can manage to do the bare minimum and act like a respectable girl, you may end up as nobility.”

“Actually, Mrs. Northwest,” Dipper spoke up quickly. Thankfully Pricilla had heard him, stopping her relentless march and turning to look in his direction. “Pacifica promised the next dance to me,” he lied, watching as the blonde’s eyes widened in shock and her mother’s eyes narrowed into slits. “If it’s not too much of an imposition, I just don’t know when I’ll have another chance.”

There was a moment of silence that stretched on for longer than Dipper would have liked. Pricilla looked him over with a suspicious glare just before her face split into a tight smile. “Of course,” she stated in a friendly manner, though the tension in her voice suggested she was far from happy. Reluctantly, she released the vice grip that she had on her daughter’s arm. Pacifica quickly pulled away, rubbing at the red skin on her bicep. “My apologies.”

Pacifica watched her mother saunter away, her elegant dress swishing against the ballroom floor. She turned to Dipper with an alarmed expression. “Did you just mind control her?”

“No, I knew your mother wouldn’t want to deny her guests a polite request,” Dipper replied honestly. Although, the idea of mind control had been tempting after seeing the way Pricilla treated her only daughter. He had quickly decided against it. “God forbid word got out that she was a bad hostess.”

Pacifica turned back to see that her mother had vanished into the crowd. When she turned back around, the shy smile that she wore was enough to make his heart flutter. “Thanks.”

“It’s alright,” Dipper muttered as he turned his gaze away. The modesty only lasted for a moment before he turned back to her with a smug grin. “Considering your obsession with me, you were probably clamouring for a dance anyway.”

“Don’t push it, Pines.”

#reverse falls #reverse pines #reverse dipifica #reverse dipper #reverse pacifica #gravity falls #dipifica #dipcifica

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thorne93 · 7 years

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Who Will Win? (Part 1)

Prompt: Jefferson (Once Upon A Time) sees you on the sidewalk one day, his “dead” wife.

Word Count: 1745

Warning: Threats, language, angst, sadness

Notes: This will span from season 1 through 5, if you don’t want spoilers, maybe don’t read this, haha. Also, the reader’s Storybrooke name is Alice. Beta’d by the amazeballs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and badgered @amarvelouswritings Thank you both! Could never get this done without you!

Tags: @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld@obsessedwithmisha

Sebastian Stan Tags: @obsessedwithmisha @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock

~~~~~~~

Walking along the brisk morning, he spotted you. Your hair, your body, the way you moved. Your clothes might have changed, but you hadn’t. Not in the slightest. Even though he couldn't see your face, he recognized you in an instant, he knew from the way his heart sped up, and how the butterflies soared through his entire body. No one in his life had ever made him feel like you did, and now his body reacted on its own accord, even if his brain was screaming at him that there was no way it could actually be you. You’d been dead for almost four decades now.

He jogged up to you, all other thoughts falling from his mind except he had to see you. He ran up and stood in front of you.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

“I’m sorry, my name’s Alice. Do I know you?” you asked the incredibly handsome stranger.

And like that, his heart shattered into a million shards.

“Uh...no...Well...sort of...We met a long time ago,” he halfassed explained, feeling like the world's biggest fool.

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m on my way to work, if you don’t mind,” you said, gesturing for him to clear your path.

“Right...I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he said as he let you pass, a longing to reach out and touch you still burning within him.

“It’s quite alright,” you assured softly as you breezed past him to the wedding boutique, ready to deal with pissed off brides and wrong orders.

Jefferson, on the other hand, was about to be the pissed off one. He turned on his heel and stormed toward the Mayor’s office. He went upstairs to Madam Mayor’s main office and flung open the door, ready to face her.

“You bitch,” he snarled as he pointed at her.

“Come right in, not busy,” Regina noted as she looked down at her ledger, not paying him much attention.

“You knew she was alive,” he accused angrily. “You let me think she was dead?” he asked as horror lashed across his face. “It’s been over 35 years and you let me think the mother of my child, my WIFE, was dead. How heartless can you be?”

“I’m not heartless, Jefferson. I let your child come over with the curse,” she reminded, still working away.

“You think letting me watch another family care for her for thirty years is kind?!” he demanded as he got closer to the desk.

“I think that you should be grateful I let her in this town. She could still be in the Enchanted Forest, alone and starving,” she countered, slamming the ledger shut, making him flinch. “You should be grateful.”

“That’s right, so long as people aren’t dead, you think we should be grateful.”

“Unless you have something of importance to tell me, you need to leave,” she instructed with a not so veiled threat.

“Tell me this, where has she been? It’s been three decades and this town isn’t that big, how did you keep her hidden?”

“I haven’t kept her hidden, Jefferson, she merely seems to be avoiding you.”

“And before the curse? Where was she?” he asked, torment in his eyes and voice.

“I don’t know, maybe she didn’t want to return to the wretched life of a thief’s wife,” Regina commented in a condescending tone.

“No, she loved me, what did you do to her?”

“I don’t have to answer to you. Now get out of my office,” she ordered and as much as Jefferson wanted to fight her, he knew he wouldn’t win.

----------------

“This isn’t what I ordered!” the bride to be screamed as she threw a veil at you.

“I’m sorry, miss, let me check on that,” you tried sweetly. You looked up her invoice and this appeared to be correct. “I’m sorry, miss, what’s wrong with this? It appears to be what you ordered…”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“It’s got jewels and no lace, I wanted lace and no jewels. You’re lucky you’re the only decent bridal shop in town,” she remarked. “So are you going to fix this?!”

“Yes, miss. I’m sorry.” You worked with her to fill out a new order form for the veil and when you were done, you cheerily said, “Now, it’ll be $100.”

“$100?! For what?” she demanded.

“To reorder the veil. We charge everyone for alterations and corrections,” you informed.

“But I didn’t screw this up, you did!” she shouted.

“I’m sorry, miss, but since your original order and the veil match...it would appear as a re-order.”

“I’m not paying that.”

“Okay but…” you started, wondering how to appease this bridezilla.

“Where is your manager?” she demanded.

“Right here,” your boss said, sliding up next to you. “What’s the problem, dear?”

“Your incompetent sales woman here screwed up my veil order, now I need the right one, and she’s saying I’ll have to pay again for it.”

“Oh, no, no, surely not. We’ll correct it free of charge, and take 10% off your dress. Does that sound better?” your boss said, kissing her ass.

“That sounds exceptional. Thank you. See, that’s how you treat a customer,” the bride said to you with a snark. She left the shop and your boss, Karen, turned to you.

“What is the matter with you?” she demanded.

“Me? Karen, that’s our policy,” you said. “Her order matched the veil, when they make changes, we charge them, we always have.”

“No, Alice, happy customers means more to me than that extra charge,” she countered. “We wouldn’t want them to go to Dolly’s bridal, would we?”

“No, ma’am, but--”

“But nothing. Don’t argue with everyone, Alice, just do your job and make them happy.” She planted a giant grin on her face before going back to work. Karen was the owner and boss of you, she designed and made wedding dresses, and sold them in her wedding boutique where you worked. You hated it. Every day it was whiney, spoiled women who were always upset about something. The dress didn’t flatter them. The sleeves weren’t right. The veil fit funny. The dress wasn’t the right length. Complaint after complaint, and you took the brunt of it.

You wished there was something more to your life than this small town, this awful job, and being alone.

And that’s when your mind wandered to the incredibly handsome stranger that stopped you on the street this morning. At first, he didn’t seem familiar, but something deep within you made you think you had met him. Was it his voice? What about him was familiar? Was is crystal blue eyes? His crooked smile? You couldn't quite pinpoint it, but something about him felt familiar, and for some reason you felt drawn to him drawn to him?

----------

After work you went grocery shopping and the day was not turning out to be better. They were out of three things you desperately wanted: your favorite tea, your favorite cookie, and a special spice for your favorite meal. Then you got to the checkout and the lane you had stood in for five minutes closed as soon as you got up there, forcing you to go to the next lane, where a rude woman cut in front of you without so much as a glance up to you. You swallowed your anger and tried to wait patiently. Then you stepped outside in the pouring rain, when you realized you’d forgotten your umbrella.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. You started towards your car and when you unlocked the back hatch, a voice sounded behind you.

“Hello,” he greeted in that same suave voice. “You look like you could use some help,” he commented sweetly.

“Yes, I could, thank you so much,” you said as the dark haired stranger approached. He grabbed some bags from your cart as he flashed you a smile that made your heart flutter. You two loaded the back of your car and you thanked him.

“Thank you, so much…” you said as you extended your hand.

“Jefferson,” he noted. “My name is Jefferson. And you are…?” he inquired, even though he knew your name. He knew everything about you. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Alice,” you answered, shaking his hand.

“You’re soaked. Would you like to come to my house? I could get you some warm clothes and some hot tea…” he offered and there seemed to be a plea in his voice.

“That’s very sweet of you, and I appreciate your help, but I need to get these groceries home.”

“Oh, right, of course, my bad.”

“It was so nice to see you again, I hope I see you around,” you admitted, slightly praying you weren’t coming on too strong.

“Me too. Well uh...enjoy your evening.”

“I will.”

You drove your groceries home, made a quick meal of fried chicken, biscuits, and green beans, boxed them up, and headed to the hospital.

“Hi, Dad,” you greeted as you walked in his room.

“Hey,” he said.

“I brought you some dinner. I thought it would be a nice change from the crappy hospital food.”

“Thank you,” he said as he looked up at you. He’d been sick for as long as you could remember. You had tended to him hand and foot when you were a child, and you didn’t mind. He was sick and he needed help. Until he became too much for you to care for and you had asked if the hospital could care for him. He hated it at first, and so did you, but it was for the best. They could watch him around the clock, something you couldn't do once school, and later work, took up much of your time.

You sat with him, trying to ignore the stab in your heart. Your dad was a survivor, he was great, strong, and big. But the years, and all the damn ailments he had, were slowly causing him to deteriorate before your eyes. He’d had a lot of close calls before, and always came out stronger than ever, but that didn’t stop the fear that one day he wouldn’t.

The rest of the evening, you two talked and talked, praying he stayed mentally alert, and for the most part, he did. You hugged and kissed him goodbye at the end of visiting hours and went home, ready to start the next day, hoping it would be better.

#who will win #jefferson x reader #jefferson fic #ouat #once upon a time fic #jefferson #sebastian stan

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biofunmy · 5 years

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The Dress Code at Goop May Not Surprise You

SANTA MONICA, Calif. — “I’m buying that shirt,” the publicist said to her boss. It was an everyday office compliment, except the boss in question was Gwyneth Paltrow (“G.P.,” as she’s known at the office), the founder and lifestyle guru behind Goop, which sells crystals, cashmere and much more.

“What tends to happen is I’ll be wearing something and they’ll say, ‘I almost bought that,’” Ms. Paltrow said. “And then they’ll buy it.” Indeed, a recent visit to Goop’s new 57,000-square-foot offices in Santa Monica, Calif., revealed that many of its 250 employees were not just living and breathing Goop, but wearing it, too.

Gwyneth Paltrow

Age: 46

Occupation: founder and chief executive of Goop (and “sometime actress”)

How many Goop products are on you, or in you, right now?

An embarrassing amount. GoopGlow, ingestible. I drink one every single morning. It’s skin care from the inside. And I take my vitamins of course. I’m on the Madame Ovary, the premenopausal, I say without any shame.

The shorts are yours?

They’re G. Label. They’re mine, I made them. And this is a G. Label shirt.

You like a high collar.

I do. A lot of our G. Label has turtleneck or high collar. Some of my friends are like, “Enough already with the high neck.”

Well, forget them. What’s on your wrist?

This is a fitness tracker device. My trainer is a big proponent of walking. So I track my steps, and then three times a day I take loops around the office just to make sure I’m not sitting too much.

How are you doing today?

Today shouldn’t be too bad because I did cardio this morning. I’m already at 7,800 steps.

Amazing.

My goal is 10,000 per day, so I’m good. Yesterday I only did 3,500.

Micere Johnson

Age: 27

Occupation: editorial assistant

I hope you won’t find it terribly insulting if I call your jacket “oversized.”

It’s definitely oversized. I think it’s a laid-back-but-official feeling. This is G. Label.

What is the punishment if you don’t wear G. Label to the office?

I don’t know.

Does the skirt make it into a suit?

Yeah. I like these super-big pockets. I always have my hands in them. And I love the fit. It’s hard for me to find a skirt that sits on my body. They’re always puffing up.

Gucci loafers?

I borrowed these from a friend.

Good friend. What’s around your neck?

This is a chain that I got from Satya. It’s a carnation, and then this is a piece of quartz.

Caitlin O’Malley

Age: 29

Occupation: food editor

Is this what you cook in?

No. This is the new Goop HQ, and the kitchen isn’t ready yet.

Your clogs are not your everyday kitchen clogs.

I used to be in the Dansko family. But I’m also an editor. I’m in meetings. I can wear these with a pair of jeans. I can go out to dinner after work and not feel dorky.

The chambray shirt is also very work oriented.

I’ve had some version of this shirt for 15 years. This is Nili Lotan. They did a collaboration with Goop a while ago.

Your skirt is similarly business-meets-kitchen. No nonsense.

It’s apron-y, which is why I was drawn to it. Utilitarian piece. G. Label.

Jesus, you’re all Goop.

Well I get that good-good Goop discount. We stan for G. Label big time.

Danielle Pergament

Age: 45

Occupation: editor in chief of Goop

You have a very heavy wrist game.

It’s like a garbage dump.

It’s not! It looks really good.

My husband gave me a Rolex Submariner on my 40th. It can’t stand alone, so I have a viking bracelet. The beads are a volcanic stone. Then hair ties because my daughter is always running out of them.

I like your dress, a little bit prairie. On trend.

I feel like I really thrived in the ’90s — this reminds me of that. It’s Brock Collection.

And then a warrior sandal.

Paul Andrew. I’m trying to get into sneaker culture. It’s not my jam.

It’s not my jam, either. I think it’s stupid.

It’s the stupidest thing in the world. I’ve adapted to the vibe at Goop. There’s a uniform no matter where you work, but I’m more of a sandal person.

Erica Moore

Age: 39

Occupation: chief financial officer

The Off-White sweatshirt! The tennies!

I’m the street Goop.

What do you like about Virgil Abloh’s designs?

It’s one of the few sweatshirts I can pair with this skirt and have it be an appropriate outfit for work.

How does your look compare to your colleagues?

I think we all have our individual spin on the Goop look. Very California chic. Understated.

Has “G.P.” ever commented on your sweatshirt?

Probably.

Eric Martin

Age: 33

Occupation: accounting manager

You have very fitted jeans.

I don’t like baggy jeans at all. This is an everyday thing.

Isn’t it hot in the L.A. sun?

I wear shorts in the summer. They are typically tight, too.

Is your polo terry cloth?

It’s teal, and I picked it because of the color choice. And it breathes. It’s Zara.

Are you a glasses collector?

No, I only have two pairs. I only wear them when I get tired of wearing my contacts.

Does where you work influence how you dress?

It does. I don’t want to come in looking like a slob.

Elise Loehnen

Age: 39

Occupation: chief content officer

How do you dress for work?

I’ve gravitated to jumpsuits, dresses that don’t wrinkle. I have two small boys. It’s messy work being the mother of dragons.

Is that a signet ring?

It’s by Kim Dunham. One of my spirit animals is a horse, and the other is a black leopard. Inside there’s a quote: “Encounters are planned by the soul.”

Tell me about the dress.

This is La Double J. I like that they’re high-necked or collared. It’s the most flattering look for me, with my haircut.

Those are the whitest white sneakers I’ve ever seen.

You can use a Magic Eraser on your shoes.

Elgin Wright

Age: “old enough”

Occupation: stylist at Goop Lab

Goop Lab sounds like the kind of place where Dr Pepper might work.

It’s the retail establishment for Goop. It’s where all our products are sold.

What do you think about when you’re dressing for work?

It’s about how I feel in what I’m wearing.

How do you feel?

Fabulous.

Oh, good. Tell me about these high-waisted Frame Denim jeans.

Goop x Frame denim from last summer. Totally in my wheelhouse. Classic with an edge. Jeans every day.

You’re wearing your blazer as a cape.

It’s extra fashion, and I can do all sorts of things with my arms.

Kelly Egarian

Age: 33

Occupation: head of V.I.P.

Tell me about your shoes.

These are by Yuul Yie. I have heels in the car.

What about your top?

It’s actually a bodysuit by Khaite. She did her first show in New York this fall. I wear her religiously.

Very classic watch.

My sweet boyfriend gave it to me for my 33rd birthday. Black band. I wear a lot of black. I drive black cars. I’m from Jersey so I’m a little hood sometimes.

Ann Hazel Pascual

Age: 32

Occupation: retail operations assistant

Is it intimidating to get dressed for Goop?

I dress for comfort and for fun.

Is your dress linen?

It’s silk and linen. For a long time I used to just use neutrals. Now I’ll do a pop of color just to keep it fun. It’s Tuesday. Why not? And it’s not holding me in like a sausage.

It has a nice big shoulder.

I like a puff sleeve.

You’ve got the Veja sneakers.

I like that they’re Velcro. Makes everything easier. Even when I wear my Converse I don’t lace them properly. I do bunny ears.

I do bunny ears, too!

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