Derek Zoolander: Hansel, my man, you look ready-to-wear fabulous. Like, “just stepped off the spring collection” fabulous. But check this out—I started a school. For kids who can’t read good… and who wanna learn to do other stuff good too. We’re calling it Derek Zoolander’s Center for Kids Who Can’t Read Good and Wanna Learn to Do Other Stuff Good Too. The acronym is a whole mood.

Hansel: Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa. Derek. You built a school? With actual books? Or is this like that time you tried to teach me the difference between a bias cut and being biased, and we both ended up in a pleated argument for forty minutes? Also… dude. Are those the Derelicte jeans? The ones that came pre-destroyed? Because they look like they lost a fight with a cheese grater. One wash and you’ll need a whole new pair. That’s not fashion, man. That’s a subscription service for holes.

Derek: These jeans are art, Hansel. Mugatu said the holes represent the emptiness of the modern soul. Or the emptiness of my laundry budget. Same difference. Anyway—the kids look at the letters and the letters just stare back like little judgmental accessories. So I thought, “What if we teach them to model the alphabet on the catwalk?” A is for Attitude. B is for Blue Steel. C is for Couture… or was it Cashmere? D is for Drape. E is for Ensemble. You know, the whole collection.

Hansel: [grinning] Right. And F is for “Fabric that disintegrates after one spin cycle.” Look, I turned down Mugatu’s whole Derelicte thing because I’m an eco-warrior now. I don’t do clothes that self-destruct and end up in a landfill after one gentle cycle. My jeans are organic, fair-trade, and still have all their original threads. Revolutionary, I know.

Derek: [interrupting, horrified] Don’t say the C-word! Last time someone said “cat” in front of me I thought they were talking about a catwalk and I tried to strut it. On a leash. In Milan. The dogs were not amused. They said my hemline was all wrong. And also that my jeans were committing fashion crimes against the planet.

Hansel: [laughing] Okay but real talk—how do the kids even graduate? Do they have to walk a runway while holding a book they still can’t open, in a full avant-garde look… while wearing pants that might dissolve mid-strut?

Derek: Exactly! Final exam is Magnum. They hit Magnum while reciting the entire lookbook from the Orange Mocha Frappuccino place. If the book stays closed, the drape stays perfect, and the crowd still claps? Straight A’s. Or at least… really well-tailored B’s. We also have a class called “Looking Like You Already Know Stuff” — it’s basically the advanced section of “Vague but Vogue.”

Hansel: Derek. My beautiful, vacant, hole-ridden friend. You’re not teaching them to read. You’re teaching them to look like they already read and decided books were last season… just like those jeans decided structural integrity was last season.

Derek: [gasps, eyes lighting up] Hansel… that’s brilliant. We’ll call the honors program “Ready-to-Wear Knowledge.” Enrollment’s gonna explode. Like my abs after leg day. Wait—no. Arm day. Wait—which day makes the abs go full high-fashion? And maybe I’ll finally get some jeans that survive a wash without becoming a crop-top for my knees.

Hansel: [slapping him on the back] Just keep doing whatever you’re doing, man. The world’s a better place when Derek Zoolander is in charge of education. Just… maybe put the fire extinguisher next to the “reading corner” this time. Last open house got a little too Blue Steel near the chemistry lab and someone tried to hem a beaker. And for the love of organic cotton—retire the Derelicte. Mother Earth is side-eyeing you hard.

Derek: Chemistry? Is that the one with the beakers that look like tiny perfume bottles? Because if so—I’m already teaching that. It’s called “Fragrance for Beginners Who Can’t Read the Labels Good… But Can Still Serve a Full Face.” Even if their pants have more holes than a conspiracy theory.

Hansel: [grinning] God help us all. The future of literacy is officially on the runway… and somehow still held together by a single surviving thread.

Scene: A sun-drenched rooftop terrace in Milan during Fashion Week. Derek Zoolander lounges in a chair, blue steel face on. Hansel McDonald paces dramatically, gesturing with a reusable bamboo water bottle. David de Rothschild sits calmly nearby, holding a small model of a boat made of plastic bottles.

Hansel: Derek… my brother… my beautiful, confused brother… you still don’t get it. Look at me. Really look at me. This glow? This inner peace? This isn’t just the organic kale smoothie and the three hours of tantric yoga. This is him.

(points reverently at David)

My personal savior. David “Plastic Jesus” de Rothschild. Fellow eco-warrior. The man who sailed across the Pacific on twelve thousand five hundred discarded water bottles just to show the world that plastic is the real devil.

Zoolander: Wait… wait, wait, wait. Plastic Jesus? Is that like… the dashboard Jesus but made of plastic? Because I had one of those in my orange Jeep and it melted that one time I left it in the sun after the male-model Olympics.

Hansel: No, Derek. This Plastic Jesus. The real one. He didn’t just model for the environment — he became the environment. He took the trash the world threw away and turned it into a vessel of pure truth. While we were busy looking left… and looking right… he was looking forward — at the ocean of garbage we created.

David de Rothschild: (gently, with a small smile) I wouldn’t go that far, Hansel. I just wanted people to see the problem. The Plastiki was a boat made of bottles, yes, but the real point was to show that we can redesign the system. Plastic doesn’t have to be the enemy if we stop treating it like it’s disposable.

Hansel: See?! Listen to him! The humility! The wisdom! This man crossed the Pacific Garbage Patch — the one twice the size of Texas — and he didn’t even ask for a modeling contract afterward. He just kept fighting for the planet. That is pure. That is sacred. That is… hot.

Zoolander: Okay but… is he still a model? Because if Plastic Jesus is walking the runway in something made of recycled bottles, I need to know. I once wore a suit made of old magazines and it itched like crazy.

Hansel: Derek. Focus. This isn’t about the runway. This is about salvation. When I met David, I was lost. I was still thinking about who was number one. He showed me there is no number one… only the planet. And now? I only drink from this bottle. I only wear clothes that can be composted. I only look… left… if it helps the ocean.

(Hansel strikes a dramatic pose, staring off into the distance)

David “Plastic Jesus” de Rothschild… my personal savior… my fellow eco-warrior… the man who taught me that the real blue steel… is the color of a clean sea.

David de Rothschild: (chuckling softly) I’m just glad the message is getting out there. Even if it arrives wearing a very expensive linen shirt.

Zoolander: …Can I still have the orange mocha Frappuccino, or is that bad for the turtles?