Cher Horowitz was the queen of fashion.

The girl who could make a thrift store look like a runway.

The one who could turn a basic outfit into an event.

And yet…

When she looked at you one day with those bright, hopeful eyes, she admitted something that sounded almost… vulnerable.

“I don’t know who I am without the trends,” she said.

You blinked. “What?”

Cher sighed dramatically. “Like, I know what’s fashionable. I know what looks good. But I don’t know what I like.”

You stared at her.

Cher Horowitz. The girl who made everyone else feel like they were behind the times.

And she didn’t know her own style.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” you said, “then let’s fix that.”

Cher’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Like, I need a fashion makeover. But… reverse.”

You laughed. “Reverse?”

Cher nodded, serious. “You know. I want you to help me find my own style.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Cher nodded. “I’m serious. I’m tired of being… the girl who copies what everyone else wears.”

You thought for a second.

Then you said, “Alright. But we’re not doing this the way you do things.”

Cher tilted her head. “How do I do things?”

You smiled. “You go shopping for what looks good. I’m going to help you find what feels good.”

Cher blinked. “Oh.”

You led her to your favorite store—one that wasn’t full of designers, full of labels, or full of people trying to be someone else.

It was small. It was quiet. It was real.

Cher walked in and immediately looked around like she’d entered a different world.

“This place is… not Beverly Hills,” she said.

You laughed. “Nope. That’s the point.”

Cher picked up a shirt off a rack, turning it over in her hands. “This is cute,” she said.

You watched her closely.

“What do you like about it?” you asked.

Cher paused. “It’s… simple.”

You nodded. “And?”

Cher thought for a moment. “It looks comfortable.”

You smiled. “Okay, that’s good. That’s a start.”

You pulled a few items for her—nothing trendy, nothing flashy. Just pieces that looked like they could belong to a real person.

Cher tried them on one by one.

You watched her in the mirror.

She looked… different.

Not worse.

Not better.

Just real.

When she came out in a soft oversized sweater and ripped jeans, she looked at herself like she couldn’t believe it.

“I look like a… person,” she said quietly.

You smiled. “You do.”

Cher’s cheeks flushed. “But it’s not… me.”

You shook your head. “It is. It’s just you without the costume.”

Cher stared at herself again.

Then she turned to you.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “What now?”

You thought for a second.

Then you said, “Now we find the things that make you feel like yourself.”

Cher blinked. “Like what?”

You smiled. “Like the things you like. Not the things you think you should like.”

Cher nodded, slowly, like she was processing a whole new way of thinking