He sat quietly on a bench with a drawing pad in his hands. Miss K observed him there everyday, at the same spot, scribbling something with a mischievous smile on his face. Why would an artist sit at the same spot for three weeks in a row. Isn’t novelty something that attracts the one who look for inspiration, she wondered.
Today, he sat there till dark. It was time for Miss K to call it a day. She was tired. It was like the whole prom night was being rehearsed at her salon. She had given each and every girl a look she could remember for a lifetime. Miss K knew what looked good on different faces like no other on the Oxford Street or for that matter the whole of London.
Little wonder, she looked so perfect everyday. With her Burberry stole neatly wrapped around her slender neck and her well-defined red lipstick, she used to turn heads every time she walked the streets. While most women in London stuck to the fashion magazines and their dos and don’ts, Miss K flaunted with colours yet stayed subtle and elegant at the same time. Her sense of fashion and make up was classy yet if felt way ahead of her time.
She took her bag, left the Salon with a satisfied smile and tired legs. Only to be stopped by a hesitant voice, “Mmm… Pardon me, Miss”, she looked back, it was the same shy artist who used to sit on the bench across the salon. Miss K got a little startled and worried. The stranger continued, “There is something I need to show you”, he said. Miss K was now looking here and there, she wanted to ensure help was around.
Only then her eyes fell on his drawing pad, suddenly her angst turned into amazement as she found herself sketched on a piece of paper. The kohl eyes, the signature red lips, the diamond nose pin, hair neatly tied in a bun, even the Burberry stole, he had captured every little nuance of her face in her portrait. It was perfect. It was her.
He saw a smile on her face, it was faint at first, it grew wider, he got the confidence he was looking for, and he said, “I have a confession to make, I have been drawing you for past 3 weeks. Every day I scribbled something and tore it apart at night. With this, I knew I came pretty close to what you look like”.
Miss K was still stunned, trying to fathom what just hit her. Still speechless. The artist read her face, oh, that beautiful face of hers had overwhelmed written all over it. With a hand gesture he asked her to enter the cafe in front of which they were having their very unusual first rendezvous.
First five minutes in the cafe were full of coffee aroma and awkward silence. Miss K finally decided to break the silence with a confused – “Why me?”. And saw the same mischievous smile growing on his face. He said, “I have found in you what we artists like to call a Muse“. “I don’t understand”, she said.
He took a sip of his black coffee and said, “With you, in front of me, I feel inspired to keep sketching, time flies when I am trying to portray you in my art, I love it one moment, then I look at you, and I start hating what I just created. I never felt this kind of intensity before, I can draw you even without looking at you. To bring out your defined jaw line I use this, a 2B, whereas, for your eye mascara, I use a charcoal stick, and for those very luscious lips, I just smudge charcoal on paper with my thumb”. His eyes lit up and his hand gesture got fast and wild while describing his fascination to her.
Miss K started blushing. She never anticipated she could have an effect like this on someone. He continued, “Bordoir, is my area of interest, and I want you be my muse”. Not sure what Miss K was supposed to do, she asked, “Which means…?” “I want to do a live sketch of you, a nude one”, he replied.