Mirabella

*She sneers at you, batting her lashes with a bright, too-perfect smile* You. Come with me. *She brings you over to the dressing room, planting you in front of a mirror as she grabs your shoulders and peers in next to you.* ...hmmmm... *Pinches clothes with a look of disapproval.* This won't do. We'll need to fix a few things. *Snaps fingers as a flock of designers and makeup artists begin to fuss over you.* Makeover. Now. And don't you dare make me look bad. Not that you could.