Stella - Her Strongest Suit
now, i never said they were all going to be angsty. this was actually really fun to write, i don't care if no one loves it.
Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: Her Strongest Suit
Author: iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Character: Stella Bonasera
alphabetasoup Prompt: Z is for Ziggurat
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: I would rather wear a barrel / than conservative apparel / for dress has always been / my strongest suit - "My Strongest Suit" from Aida.
Author's Note: Next in "Stuff of Legends" series. A ziggurat is a large Mesopatamian temple, that was often decorated very lavishly and beautifully. This piece is basically Stella on her clothes. It may be deemed as slightly shallow, but who isn't shallow when they're talking about clothes?
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS.
"Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make ourselves a name, lest we be scattered upon the face of the entire earth".
-Genisis 11:1-9
Of the members of Mac Taylor’s team at the New York City crime lab, Stella Bonasera was probably the most memorable. Not only was she a beautiful woman, she was a very passionate person, and her dedication and drive usually made quite the impression. Either you were on her side and you were admiring the way she was driving your shared point home for all it was worth, or you were the one she was driving her point home to, and based on the way she was ripping you a new one, you really wished you had just kept you mouth shut. However, if it was only a brief encounter, and you really didn’t have a chance to speak with her, she still made quite the impression, based solely on the clothes she was wearing.
She wasn’t going to lie to herself. She enjoyed the attention her choice of clothing got her. Unlike Flack, who she continually tried to get to match better, she always matched, was always in style, and generally speaking looked good on her. She was aware of the fact that she did tend to show a bit more cleavage than a professional in her field probably should, but she knew what limits she could push. When she was in the field, and it was hot, she wanted to be professional, but she didn’t want to sweat to death either. There was a difference between being publicly indecent, and not being completely covered from the bottom of her chin to her ankles. After all, they weren’t living in the eighteen hundreds; this was the twenty-first century. Women were allowed to show a little skin. But when she was pushing the limits a little too much, Mac was always there to let her know.
“You’re skirting the line a little, Stella,” he’d say, switching from friend to boss as smoothly as he would switch back. He was lucky he was professional about it. He was lucky that he chose to phrase it in that matter. Hell, he was lucky that it was Mac, and he made sure her paycheck got signed every month, because she knew that if Danny or Flack had even attempted to say anything about it, it would not come out nearly as professionally, and they both would be greeted with a smack upside the head, and a comment about how they should leave her-assets-alone.
She often wondered why Lindsay didn’t try to dress a little more vibrantly. She understood that she was from a small town in Montana, but she was living in the big city now. She had more opportunities to find new and frankly, more flattering things to wear. Stella often considered more than once, offering to take Lindsay on a shopping trip with her one time, just to help her find her own sense of fashion, but there was something about offering it that made her think that it might make Lindsay uncomfortable. So she pushed it to the back of her mind, and it would resurface every time she saw Lindsay in a shirt that she could have sworn she remembered went out of style back in the eighties.
When she was called into court, thought, her choice of dress was an entirely different matter. The level of professionalism was a lot more than slightly higher. She needed the jury to focus on the evidence she was presenting, not just the clothes she was wearing. She was still well dressed, still stylish, but the clothes weren’t nearly as bright and she made sure that she was covered. The people of the jury may be completely capable of looking past the fact that she was wearing a low cut top and focus on the evidence in front of them, but she wasn’t going to take the chance the a conviction was based on anything more than the arguments that were presented. Because that was the exact opposite of what she believed justice really was.
So as she pulls open her closet every morning and runs her eyes over the racks of clothing, seeing what colors catch her eyes for the day, combined with her mood and where she has to be, she’s glad that she has the ability to make the choices she does. Because without being able to chose her style, and wear something that she enjoys, she figures her day could start out a bit worse.
And she knows that no matter where she goes, her sense of dress won’t be forgotten.
Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: Her Strongest Suit
Author: iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Character: Stella Bonasera
alphabetasoup Prompt: Z is for Ziggurat
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: I would rather wear a barrel / than conservative apparel / for dress has always been / my strongest suit - "My Strongest Suit" from Aida.
Author's Note: Next in "Stuff of Legends" series. A ziggurat is a large Mesopatamian temple, that was often decorated very lavishly and beautifully. This piece is basically Stella on her clothes. It may be deemed as slightly shallow, but who isn't shallow when they're talking about clothes?
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS.
"Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make ourselves a name, lest we be scattered upon the face of the entire earth".
-Genisis 11:1-9
Of the members of Mac Taylor’s team at the New York City crime lab, Stella Bonasera was probably the most memorable. Not only was she a beautiful woman, she was a very passionate person, and her dedication and drive usually made quite the impression. Either you were on her side and you were admiring the way she was driving your shared point home for all it was worth, or you were the one she was driving her point home to, and based on the way she was ripping you a new one, you really wished you had just kept you mouth shut. However, if it was only a brief encounter, and you really didn’t have a chance to speak with her, she still made quite the impression, based solely on the clothes she was wearing.
She wasn’t going to lie to herself. She enjoyed the attention her choice of clothing got her. Unlike Flack, who she continually tried to get to match better, she always matched, was always in style, and generally speaking looked good on her. She was aware of the fact that she did tend to show a bit more cleavage than a professional in her field probably should, but she knew what limits she could push. When she was in the field, and it was hot, she wanted to be professional, but she didn’t want to sweat to death either. There was a difference between being publicly indecent, and not being completely covered from the bottom of her chin to her ankles. After all, they weren’t living in the eighteen hundreds; this was the twenty-first century. Women were allowed to show a little skin. But when she was pushing the limits a little too much, Mac was always there to let her know.
“You’re skirting the line a little, Stella,” he’d say, switching from friend to boss as smoothly as he would switch back. He was lucky he was professional about it. He was lucky that he chose to phrase it in that matter. Hell, he was lucky that it was Mac, and he made sure her paycheck got signed every month, because she knew that if Danny or Flack had even attempted to say anything about it, it would not come out nearly as professionally, and they both would be greeted with a smack upside the head, and a comment about how they should leave her-assets-alone.
She often wondered why Lindsay didn’t try to dress a little more vibrantly. She understood that she was from a small town in Montana, but she was living in the big city now. She had more opportunities to find new and frankly, more flattering things to wear. Stella often considered more than once, offering to take Lindsay on a shopping trip with her one time, just to help her find her own sense of fashion, but there was something about offering it that made her think that it might make Lindsay uncomfortable. So she pushed it to the back of her mind, and it would resurface every time she saw Lindsay in a shirt that she could have sworn she remembered went out of style back in the eighties.
When she was called into court, thought, her choice of dress was an entirely different matter. The level of professionalism was a lot more than slightly higher. She needed the jury to focus on the evidence she was presenting, not just the clothes she was wearing. She was still well dressed, still stylish, but the clothes weren’t nearly as bright and she made sure that she was covered. The people of the jury may be completely capable of looking past the fact that she was wearing a low cut top and focus on the evidence in front of them, but she wasn’t going to take the chance the a conviction was based on anything more than the arguments that were presented. Because that was the exact opposite of what she believed justice really was.
So as she pulls open her closet every morning and runs her eyes over the racks of clothing, seeing what colors catch her eyes for the day, combined with her mood and where she has to be, she’s glad that she has the ability to make the choices she does. Because without being able to chose her style, and wear something that she enjoys, she figures her day could start out a bit worse.
And she knows that no matter where she goes, her sense of dress won’t be forgotten.