Sarah drummed her fingers against the desk, staring at her open math textbook with growing dread. "I’m never going to pass this," she muttered.

Vincent, sitting across from her, smirked. "Not with that attitude," he said, flipping through his notes. "It’s all about logic, Sarah. Once you break it down, it’s---"

"A nightmare?" she interrupted. "Look, I have an idea."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"What if we swapped knowledge?" she said, leaning forward. "Just for the test. You give me everything you know about math, and in return, I’ll give you all my fashion knowledge. I won’t need it during the test anyway."

Vincent scoffed. "What am I supposed to do with fashion knowledge?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don’t know. But it’s fair. We have to trade something equal, right?"

Vincent hesitated. He didn’t like losing, and if this meant Sarah would pass, that was technically a victory for him as a tutor. "Fine," he said. "Let’s do it."

The moment the swap was complete, Sarah felt like a math genius. Equations and formulas that had once seemed impossible now made perfect sense. Vincent, meanwhile, was suddenly aware of fabric textures, makeup brands, and the nuanced art of color coordination.

It meant nothing to him---at first.

Then, the accident happened.

A day into the final, Vincent found himself at a pharmacy, waiting for the cashier to finish ringing up some cough drops. He glanced at a nearby display of lipsticks, expecting to ignore them like always. But instead, his brain automatically assessed the shades, matching them to different skin tones, factoring in undertones and personal style.

His fingers hovered over a coral shade. Would this work on me? The thought came out of nowhere, and he almost shook it off---until his mind supplied an answer. No, too warm. A cool-toned berry would be better.

Curiosity burned inside him. He wasn’t one to make uninformed guesses, so he grabbed the recommended shade and bought it.

That night, standing in front of his mirror, he made a bet with himself. If I was right about the lipstick, maybe I should test my foundation knowledge too. He picked up a cheap drugstore foundation, but his trained instincts screamed that the undertone was off. He corrected it. Then came concealer. Then powder.

His competitive side took over. Every time he got something right, he wanted to push further. What blush would enhance his cheekbones? What eye makeup would make his eyes pop? He kept going, refining, improving---until, eventually, he had a list of every flaw he needed to correct to make his face look as pretty as possible.

The next day, Vincent went back to the store and bought everything he needed to perfect his look. Some choices were off, forcing him to adjust. But instead of stopping, he treated it like a challenge.

And challenges? He always won.

Vincent’s obsession didn’t stop at cosmetics. The next time he went shopping, he found himself in the women’s clothing section, running his fingers over silky blouses and soft knit sweaters.

Vincent wandered through the aisles of the clothing store, his fingers grazing the fabrics as vibrant colors and patterns danced before his eyes. It was as if each piece of clothing whispered secrets of style and possibility, each thread a thread in the fabric of his imagination. He felt an electric sense of confidence; it was as if a spark of inspiration had ignited within him.

As he meandered deeper into the store, he noticed another customer--- a young woman, rifling through a rack of blouses with a look of uncertainty on her face. Intrigued, Vincent approached her, the innate sense guiding her as she stepped closer.

“Excuse me!” he said, his voice bright and friendly. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re having a tough time picking something. May I take a look?”

The woman looked up, surprised but intrigued. “Sure, what do you think would look good on me?”

Vincent’s eyes lit up as he surveyed the options. He instinctively reached for a sunflower-yellow wrap top that mirrored the glow of the sun and a pair of high-waisted jeans that would complement the woman’s silhouette perfectly. “This top would be adorable with those jeans. It brings a cheerful vibe and makes your complexion shine!”

The woman scrutinized the items with a hint of skepticism, but Vincent’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Just trust me,” he encouraged, an unshakeable confidence in his tone. “I can see it in my mind - you’ll love it.”

After a moment of hesitation, the woman took the items from Vincent and headed to the fitting room. Vincent waited with bated breath, his heart racing. Moments later, the woman stepped out, her face lighting up with delight. The ensemble was stunning, accentuating her figure and highlighting her features beautifully.

“I can’t believe how great this looks!” the woman exclaimed, beaming at Vincent. “You really have an eye for this!”

Encouraged by the success, Vincent couldn’t help but suggest a few accessories---a thin, gold chain necklace and some simple hoop earrings that added a touch of elegance without overpowering the outfit. The transformation was evident; the woman radiated confidence, her smile wider than before.

As the woman rushed to the checkout with her selections, Vincent felt a sense of exhilaration wash over him. This was more than just clothing; it was about helping others express themselves and feel empowered through their personal style.

The thrill of this newfound talent was intoxicating. Vincent wandered the store, eyeing other shoppers with a discerning gaze. Each outfit he envisioned in his mind felt like a vibrant tapestry waiting to be woven together---a perfect blend of colors and styles. He could see the confidence that each outfit could inspire, not just in himself but in everyone around him.

With each suggestion made, Vincent realized this wasn’t just a whimsical talent; it was a calling. He felt a surge of determination to explore this newfound gift further, considering ways to share his passion for fashion, whether through styling friends, starting a blog, or even dreaming of one day opening his own boutique.

Vincent started small when it came to his wardrobe: a few fitted tops, a stylish pair of skinny jeans, a flowing skirt that draped just right. He bought them all, determined to experiment.

But when he tried them on at home, something was missing. The clothes fit, but they didn’t look right. His silhouette wasn’t quite there.

That’s when he realized: he needed foundation garments.

Vincent’s next stop was a specialty lingerie and shapewear boutique. The second he walked in, he knew exactly what he was looking for. He scanned the displays like a seasoned shopper, picking out pieces that could refine his shape in different ways.

A padded corset for an hourglass figure.

Hip-enhancing shorts to give him a curvier lower half.

Push-up shapewear to add subtle fullness to his chest.

Sheer tights with compression panels to make his legs look more sculpted.

Each piece served a purpose, and he bought them all, treating it like an experiment in transformation.

When he got home, he tried them on one by one, marveling at the results. With the right shapewear, he could create entirely different body images. One look emphasized a classic hourglass shape. Another focused on a sleek, runway-style elegance. The variations were endless, and his competitive side demanded he perfect every single one.

Naturally, his wardrobe had to expand to accommodate these new possibilities. He returned to the clothing stores, but this time, he shopped with intention. He chose dresses that would flow beautifully over his adjusted shape, skirts that flattered different silhouettes, tops that enhanced his figure in just the right way.

He wasn’t just dressing up---he was crafting perfection.

The final stage of his transformation came almost accidentally. As he stood in front of the mirror one day, admiring a new ensemble, something felt incomplete. His face was flawless, his body impeccably styled---but his hair? His short, ordinary haircut clashed with everything.