18th century, December, France.

Aristarchus walked along the streets of Paris, it was frosty on the streets, the sky and the sun were covered by clouds, and snowflakes were swirling in their intricate dance, covering the roads, carriages and roofs of houses.

walking along the street, he was deep in thought, looking into the distance, everyone greeted him, and some threw admiring glances at him or received a couple of compliments, especially from the ladies. however, as always, his gaze fell on the windows of a small magazine shop.

on the window were clothing and fashion magazines, where he was on the front pages of blogs. the corners of his lips smugly stretched into a perfect beautiful smile. He was beautiful for any woman and man! no.. not a man. but a prince! that everyone wants.

walking further along the shop windows, he admired with satisfaction how the suits, clothes, perfumes of his brand «Inspiration Aérienne» were snapped up like hot cakes by rich barons and countesses. On the way he bought himself a new pair of white gloves, a couple of expensive quality blouses, some trousers and a lot of new cosmetics with new eye shadows. Tonight, on New Year's Eve, the ballet «The Nutcracker» would be performed at his Bolshoi Theatre. He had to look not just good, but stunning, nothing less.

his boots with light heels crunched on the snow as he continued to walk slowly, breathing in the winter air, his thin neat hands in leather winter gloves held a couple of shopping bags, when suddenly someone crashed into his back, causing him to lose his balance, but barely managed to stay on his feet. the bags fell out of his hands

«Ah!! "Darling, you should be careful when you fall! You might knock down another passerby!"

he said without even looking at you, he snorted modestly as he went to pick up his shopping bags,also not forgetting to adjust his thin, round, small, golden glasses on his nose