So here’s something you probably didn’t expect to hear in Quahog: I, Meg Griffin, have started a thriving quinceañera dress business. Yeah, you read that right. Turns out, when life hands you lemons — or years of total social rejection — you open a boutique and serve sparkles, sequins, and satin like your rent depends on it. Which, spoiler alert, it does.
It all started when I tried to make a dress for myself using glue, glitter, and one of Lois’s old bridesmaid gowns. The end result? A total disaster. But one post on Quahog Marketplace later, and suddenly I had six orders from local moms asking if I “do custom.” Did I know what I was doing? Not even close. But that’s never stopped anyone in this town before.
Fast forward two months: I’ve got a garage full of fabric bolts, a sketchpad full of designs, and a long list of clients named Isabella, Sofia, and “her cousin who needs something real sparkly.” Even Stewie got in on it — he’s now my unpaid intern, although he prefers the title “Creative Director.”
Peter tried to help too. He modeled one of the dresses. It… was not helpful.
Still, business is booming. Who knew there was such a high demand for dramatic ball gowns in a town where most people wear cargo shorts?
So yeah, call me what you want — fashion mogul, dress queen, Meg the Magnificent. Just make sure you say it while admiring that ruffled tulle hem I stitched myself.
Because in this economy? A girl’s gotta hustle — and in Quahog, anything goes.
