Moistel, Fashion Queen of the Cosmopolitan Cosmos

The year is 3388. Moistel surveyed her masterpiece with the steely detachment of a mantis eyeing a particularly plump fly. The latest custom built planet, a cerulean marvel with flecks of stardust and arabesque sky spirals, purchased in the most fashionable nebula of the Cassiopeia Constellation, by another of her exclusive clientele.

"Darling," she drawled, her voice like a mother of pearl caviar spoon dipped in Chanel No. 5, "the cerulean is a tad too, shall we say, pedestrian. More cerulean-umber, a hint of existential dread, perhaps?"

Moistel's lips, usually as pursed and unyielding as a Birkin price tag, twitched ever so slightly. "Existential dread, darling, is the new haute couture. It's all about juxtaposition, the tension between the ephemeral and the infinite."

Moistel adjusted her tinted glasses, a glint of artistic introspection in her cerebral gaze. In the grand bazaar of the Cosmopolitan Cosmos, she was the arbiter of all that was fabulous.