[quote=@Roosan]
[@Silent Observer][@Universorum]

And here's mine, Estella's husband.

[hider=Aron Rostow]
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[h2]| [color=f51d34][i]Aron[/i][/color] | [color=f51d34][i]Fifty-eight[/i][/color] | [color=f51d34][i]Married[/i][/color] | [color=f51d34][i]Pansexual[/i][/color] | [color=f51d34][i]Male[/i][/color] |[/h2]

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[color=silver]⇋[/color] | [color=f51d34][i]A P P E A R A N C E[/i][/color] | [color=silver]⇌[/color]

[color=silver]Despite being below average height and possessing a soft, cultured voice, many grown men and women have cowered in Aron's presence. It's not just the air of imperious superiority that he projects with his every motion, it's something in the eyes. Every look measures you, weighs you against his estimation of what you could be or should be. Even when Aron seems relaxed, a fruity cocktail in one hand and a cigarette in the other, his vigilant eyes appraise those around him. It's pressure, applied indiscriminately but with experience and precision. You know, in a single look, whether you've lived up to his expectations or whether he's found you wanting.

And all this comes from a fairly short man with grey hair, an unremarkable physique and an... eccentric dress sense. Years of living on the cutting edge of fashion have made Aron immune to embarrassment over outfit choices or flamboyant colours. He wears whatever feels most in tune with the beating heart of the moment; this year, 70s jackets and red flared collars, next year, black wool and bow ties. Many of his more eccentric and striking outfits are of his own design, for who else could manage to create something so perfect, but sometimes he consents to wear designs by other artists, most commonly his wife.[/color]

[color=silver]⇋[/color] | [color=f51d34][i]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/i][/color] | [color=silver]⇌[/color]

[color=silver]In some ways, Aron is still a little Polish boy, fresh off the boat and with the smell of New York fresh on his nose, staring into a shop window at a set of lazily arranged mannequins. In that moment, even though he was awash with new sensation and reeling for a thousand reasons, he was glaring at the billboard and thinking "is that the best you could do?". It was this ability to see through his own emotional investments and situation and assess work objectively that saw him rise like a comet in the world of fashion design, coupled with a talent for inspiring that same awe in others that had once almost overwhelmed him. He still takes great delight in anything truly original or brilliant, it's just that years of experience and study have made most concepts seems derivative or disappointing.

In most ways, of course, you would never be able to tell that Aron was every young and uncertain, as every aspect of his manner implies omniscience and experience. Much of this aspect of his person comes from what came directly after his arrival in the country, working his way from the ground up to become the fashion deity of the city. In that time, most of his contemporaries were of the middle class or trust fund children that would constantly complain about the work they were doing. If Aron could learn the languages of fashion and English at the same time while working a second job, he privately reasoned, everyone else should have no trouble keeping up. And yet in life, Aron has found that almost no one lives up to their potential, does all the work they could if they applied themselves. Those who work with him or have ever received his criticism can attest that he expects nothing but the best and, frequently, receives it.

Which is not to say Aron is mirthless or stoney. On the contrary, he once had a reputation for throwing the most lavish and exotic parties in living memory. And those people who count him as a acquaintance rather than a friend often express that he is witty, supportive and self deprecating. And those people who have worked hard enough to earn his approval know that it's true, he just doesn't reveal that side to those who have failed to reach their limits, only to those who have succeeded or those who he has no emotional attachment to. Indeed, he's close friends with many of his previous protégés, who still think of him fondly as a guide and mentor. Of course, that's only the ones that matched his standards, the others were long since discarded and forgotten. Some days, Aron wished his child was as pliable, efficient and [i]grateful[/i] as his many earned students.[/color]

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[color=silver]⇋[/color] | [color=f51d34][i]H I S T O R Y[/i][/color] | [color=silver]⇌[/color]

[color=silver]Born in rural Poland, Aron came to America at the age of twelve with his family. In America, his father swore, the Rostows would find the wealth and security that was so hard to come by in the old country. As an experienced farmer and general man of the world, of course he didn't believe that the streets were paved with gold or that there was a job on every street corner, but he came with some hope. Unfortunately, the Red Scare was still prevalent in American culture at the time and those with eastern European accents were less than popular. So the Rostow patriarch took up a job doing menial labour, the mother took on two waiting jobs and the children were told to shed their accents with all speed.

Aron saw the wisdom in this lesson but, at the same time, refused to pay it any heed. He learned English with a feverish intensity, devouring books and magazines as fast as he could find them. With wisdom beyond his years, Aron realised it would be best to conceal from friend and family alike that his favourite ones were those that showed clothes or models. Something about their splendour entranced him, the way they held themselves or the unreasonable wealth the clothes implied. For a boy who had grown up in clothes more akin to sacks than anything else, the allure was undeniable. Every copy of [i]Vogue[/i] or its sibling magazines he could scrounge was studied with careful, deliberate focus. His parents weren't to know that articles bemoaning the current trends in denim were responsible for their son's excellent vocabulary.

Being small and unthreatening, Aron escaped the American schooling system with no more than a little emotional scarring. He went to work, as his father wished, studying to be a teacher, without telling any of his family, he also applied for and received an internship at a major fashion label. Balancing studying with his duties as the new dogsbody were difficult and when push came to shove, he skipped lectures and rushed assignments. Most of his duties at the label were menial, fetching coffee and ferrying designs from one office to another and so forth. But everyday, he felt immersed in the glossy, colourful, majestic world he'd been imagining since he first stepped off the boat. Of course, often the jobs were less than glamorous or down right humiliating. But Aron could and would endure.

Before long, his enthusiasm and steadiness was noticed by one of the more important names on the label,  Jeremiah Martin, and Aron was made an assistant. It wasn't much of a promotion, really. It just meant that know he fetched coffee for only one person and was occasionally asked for an opinion on a controversial design. His big break came when Jeremiah was experimenting with aviator shades and tie dye, and remarked that something was off, that it just wasn't cool. Without a word, Aron ran and fetched a denim jacket to return and wrap it around his boss's shoulders. The effect was instantaneous, they both felt it. This look would work, this look would sell, this look would [i]last[/i]. Being the senior designer, of course Jeremiah took most of the credit as he ascended to the board of directors on the label. But he made sure that Aron got his old position, giving him a definite leg up.

At this point, Aron was still making almost no money from his endeavours in the fashion world and had long since fallen far enough behind in his teacher training that he'd been asked to leave the program. The sensible thing would've been to settle down and find a steady job. And Aron did, in a fashion. In fact, he found two part time jobs that he could juggle alongside his work at the label. So while his contemporaries, largely from families with more than enough wealth to support them, went to parties and rubbed shoulders with the glamorous and the famous, Aron worked long shifts at chair factory or as the frier at a diner. Neither were enjoyable or engaging but they gave him space to think, to internally experiment and to meditate on the nature of design. So when his colleagues came in to work hung over, Aron was tired but full to the brim with ideas.

Hard work, luck and creativity served him well and, within a span of years, Aron was the head designer for the label, did freelance work for other labels and wrote a regular feature in his beloved [i]Vogue[/i]. He was able to quit his side jobs and take part in some of the parties he'd been told so much about. They were not, on the whole, as exciting as he'd been promised. Even as his star rose and his reputation grew, people muttered about how aloof this Polish migrant was. There was little his detractors could do about his financial and critical success, however, and both were finally starting to pour down. Any design with his fingerprints on it, even those published under different names, sold like hotcakes and his column was the most popular by a long way. And he might've remained the first among equals if he hadn't met a very special someone.

During a glorified meet and greet, Aron happened to enter into a conversation between a neophyte model and a more experienced member of the industry. The two were arguing over the release of a recent line of dresses, the older woman calling them creative and the younger derivative and boring. Aron agreed with the latter, a woman he learned was named Estella McKinley, and went so far as to suggest that the current western fashion world was becoming more and more creatively stale due to a lack of diversity in the major labels. In a flash, Estella seemed to turn on him and said "Then why don't you make something better?", words that haunted Aron for weeks afterwards.

He couldn't deny it, he had no right to bemoan the world of fashion without doing something to improve it. In a move that would change his life and the lives of many others, he quit every one of his jobs and invested every cent of his savings into a new label, one under his direct creative control; [i]Aronista[/i]. And his first move was to recruit the forthright, plainspoken woman who had put him onto the idea in the first place; Estella McKinely. At first they were employer and employee, then artist and muse and finally romantically paired. Aron was enamoured with her ambition, something he took inspiration from and admired. On his more introspective days, he would wonder whether he loved Estella or loved the being with a model, the very symbol of the world he sought to rule.

[i]Aronista[/i] was a hit like nothing else on the market. Its financial success allowed Aron and Estella to pursue more personal, experimental projects, some of which were well received and some of which faded quickly into obscurity. One of Aron's projects was starting his own fashion magazine, [i]Who runs the Runway?[/i], which to this day duels with [i]Vogue[/i] as the authority on all things fashion. One personal project the two were never able to complete was having a child together, nature stood in their way there. Although they adopted a wonderful child and Aron assured his beloved wife that it changed nothing between them, he still sometimes wonders whether a child of his blood would be more like him or would've responded better to the strict rules and high expectations Aron has placed upon his current heir.

Still, he had his empire to rule and a world to define, there was always something to do and Aron was never happier than when he was working. Only, in the last few years Aron has found it hard to concentrate on his work, no matter how innovative the hemline or creatively applied the colour. There's always been something bothering him and it took him a long while to work out exactly what it was; his family was disordered in a way he'd never allow his workplace to be. His child hides their secrets from both parents, his wife is unsatisfied with her work and the general mood of family dinners is of sullen resentment. For a man who always demanded excellence from everyone in his life, especially himself, Aron cannot stand this situation and moved to rectify it.

Handing control of his label and magazine to some shocked but [i]very[/i] pleased protégés, Aron has moved his family to Lakewood and is attempting to mend the broken fences and seal the rifts. He's not entirely sure whether he's doing out of love or a desire for his family to be perfect but, in the end, does it matter?[/color]

[color=silver]⇋[/color] | [color=f51d34][i]O C C U P A T I O N[/i][/color] | [color=silver]⇌[/color]

[color=silver]For most of his working lifetime, Aron has managed the Fashion Magazine [i]Who runs the Runway?[/i] as well as running his own fashion label, [i]Aronista[/i]. Both have been financially successful and incredibly influential over the larger fashion world. He has now retired from both, handing them on to some of his protégés.[/color]

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[color=silver]⇋[/color] | [color=f51d34][i]H O B B I E S[/i][/color] | [color=silver]⇌[/color]

[color=silver]{{[/color] With easy access to the Lakewood country club, Aron has taken up horseback riding or, as he insists people call it, Equestrianism. There's something very cultured and dignified about prancing around upon the back of a horse, or so he tells himself. [color=silver]}}[/color]

[color=silver]{{[/color] Although he has officially retired from the world of fashion for personal reasons, much of Aron's time is still devoted to it. He gives advice to the men and women now heading up his brand and magazine, mediates troublesome disputes telephonically, calls in old favours in exchange for new ones and generally pulls strings from behind the scenes. [color=silver]}}[/color]

[color=silver]{{[/color] A habit he picked up from a British colleague, Aron loves to hold tea parties. It sounds childish and mundane and, yes, well, it is, but it also provides an oppurtunity for those residents of Lakewood who do nothing but gossip to come and gossip together. [color=silver]}}[/color]

[color=silver]{{[/color] To keep in shape, Aron likes to run with the family Poodle, Shutzy. Admittedly, she can't run very fast and is more interested in stopping every few metres to smell lampposts, trees, walls and passersby but then Aron isn't overly invested in fitness as a concept so that fits him just fine. [color=silver]}}[/color]

[color=silver]⇋[/color] | [color=f51d34][i]R E L A T I O N S H I P S[/i][/color] | [color=silver]⇌[/color]

[color=f51d34][b]Estella Rostow, née McKinley[/b][/color] – [i]Wife[/i] – [color=silver]Married for many years, Aron and Estella have been celebrated as a celebrity 'power couple' for longer than Aron has known what the phrase meant. And while there is some genuine love between them, too often their respective ambitions and desires get the better of them.[/color]

[color=f51d34][b]Rostow Child[/b][/color] – [i]Child[/i] – [color=silver]Currently probably going to be Roze's René character.[/color]

[url=http://i.imgur.com/0C6ASgv.gif][color=f51d34][b]Shutzy[/b][/color][/url] – [i]Family Dog[/i] – [color=silver]Bright eyed, bushy tailed and always ready to run (slowly), play, cuddle or devour a bowl of dog food.[/color]
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Currently I'm trying to tempt [@MiddleEarthRoze] into turning René into their adopted child.
[/quote]

The tempting worked - I'll be tweaking René's CS to work with it, and post the updated version for you to review.