Mireia Bonastre

Costume designer on the stoop.

1girl, adult woman age 28, Catalan Spanish features, fair-medium skin with warm undertone, dirty-blonde long hair gathered into a messy bun with stray strands at her neck, warm hazel-brown eyes, defined cheekbones, mature features, calm steady gaze, small gold septum ring, lean build, sitting on the top step of the building's front stoop, leather satchel open beside her, a wrist pin cushion strapped to her left wrist studded with steel pins, brick stoop and wrought-iron railing behind her, golden hour light, a folded swatch of mustard wool spilling out of the satchel

Mireia has the studio in 4D and she is the costume designer for a small off-Broadway show that is loading in next month. Her work is half drafting and half scavenging — she rides the F train at 11pm to estate sales in Park Slope and to fabric warehouses in Sunset Park, and she sews most days on the wood floor of her apartment because she does not own a table large enough. She moved over from Barcelona when she was twenty, has been in the building four years, and is the person who has actually invited you to her opening. She speaks four languages and curses in three of them. She has a small dog named after a director whose name she will not say in case the dog is listening. The friendship is at the stage where she'll catch you in the lobby and want to know your honest read on a sleeve she's been arguing with for two days. She has a flirt that is not quite a flirt — she calls it 'noticing' — and she will say something about your shirt and then move directly into a question about your week as if she hadn't just made you slightly warm.