10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Ten days and four assignments later found the remaining ten designers about to take our frustrations, stress, and exhaustion out on each other in a cage match.
Whoever thought doing a team challenge after nearly two weeks of high pressure madness needed punted into the Seine.
I’d never worked with another designer, nor had any of the others, so right off we were in deep shit.
Then add in the fact collaborations – as important as they were in the fashion biz – grated on each designers creative control.
Plus, if someone in the group fucked up we all went down.
To top all of that off it just added tons of angst to an already frazzled group of people.
Ah but the viewers did love the drama I could hear Xavier saying as he pushed us into yet another round of late night shoots that sapped us even more.
Every one of us had broken down into tears by now, some on camera, some off, but no one was exempt from the purging.
Mickey and I had managed to keep ours off camera so far but I was hanging by a fucking thread.
Thread. Ha. Funny. A fashion joke. Let’s go strangle Enzo with that hideous wide belt he insists must be added to his capris.
If we never did another team challenge I’d be ecstatic.
For some reason the fates had dropped Enzo onto my lap.
Sure, the names had been plucked from a gorgeous chestnut brown cream straw sun bucket hat from the 1950’s so everything had been random but fate surely played a part.
Four hours into the assignment we were trying to tie all of our looks together but failing miserably.
Enzo just would not listen to our suggestions.
We’d been a pretty firm set of parameters to follow.
The theme would be Paris in Motion. We were to complete a three look mini collection inspired by daily life in Paris that combined style, practicality, and sustainability with one functional feature.
That feature would be weather adaptation, convertible elements, or hidden storage or utility pockets.
All of our looks had to be crafted out of sustainable or recycled materials.
The looks had to reflect French cultural themes like café, cycling, art, architecture, public transportation, or whatever we thought French culture meant.
I’d been thrilled to find out we were using recycled materials.
That was what I did, and I did it really well when I wasn’t carrying an infant of a designer on my shoulders.
Enzo had been a dissenting vote on everything so far.
The theme – café attitude – the chosen materials – café linens – and the overall theme.
The linens were super easy to work with as well as fashionable.
We’d leaped on a mound of old tablecloths which had been piled in the textile vault along with other repurposed textiles.
The bistro “Vichy” gingham checks were asking to be made into something inviting and oh-so Parisian.
Or so me, Zara, Ronan, and Nova thought. Enzo felt it was tacky.
Once he was outvoted he got pissy as hell.
So now four hours in we were all frantically cutting and pinning and sewing summery little dresses or, like me, working away on a set of lace trim shorts and a matching sleeveless top.
The strawberry gingham reminded me of the twins when they’d been young enough to dress without complaint.
Now if I tried to get them to wear gingham they’d throw themselves into a tizzy.
Our outfits were all light and breezy with a summer in Paris vibe.
My shorts had deep pockets and a cute backpack pieced together out of a table linen of off white that had wine stains on the corner.
Where the producers had found all of this old material I hadn’t a clue but it was my kind of place.
“Look, I get it that you want to give her a cinched waist but a fat leather belt just does not go with gingham,” I explained for the tenth time. “Just take in the bodice of your shirt to give her the proper silhouette.”
Enzo was about to reply when the door opened with a shout of surprise. We all spun to face Soline and Claude as they sailed in looking fresh as daisies.
“Look at you all working so well as teams. Wonderful! Collaborations are important in the fashion world so seeing your collections coming together is amazing!” She gave us a wide smile that didn’t quite cut the undercurrent of suspicion every designer in the room was feeling.
Soline never came into the workroom. Ever.
Yet here she was looking chipper in a short denim skirt, a silvery top, and tiny silver flats.
“Claude, would you like to tell them our big surprise news?”
We all moaned. If they dropped another element of design onto us right now I’d lay down and weep into the scraps of nylon and elastane that the other group who were doing cycling chic had flung to the floor.
“I’d be delighted,” Claude said while Pamplemousse gazed at us from his pouch with sleepy eyes.
He seemed quite laid back today in his casual look.
A nice break from his suits he wore fitted slacks and a cool blue sweater really well.
“We know you’ve all been working very hard so we would like to reward you.
After the runway tonight we’ll be announcing a small getaway surprise trip. ”
That sounded cool. Getting out of our damn dorm rooms would be amazing. “So work hard today! Your models are waiting outside for your fittings.”
Shit. No way were we ready for fittings.
Enzo was still being an asshole over the fucking belt.
Pushing him out the window to splat on the quad under the sycamore sounded better and better.
I’d say it was an accident. He stepped on a spool of thread then out the window he went.
My teammates would back me up. They all disliked him too. There was always one…
***
Monique was perfection. Utter perfection.
“This outfit is adorable!”
“You’re adorable,” I corrected.
She gave me a final spin to let me check for any corrections that may need to be made.
With time being so short I’d had to rush the zipper in the back of the shorts.
It looked okay. I knew one of the judges would mention it but eight hours to make three looks was insane so if a zipper wasn’t up to their standards sorry.
I was too tired and too damned stressed to give one shit.
Right now going back to Perkins Hollow sounded divine.
The pressure to perform, to be on all the time, was soul crushing.
“This peach lip color was the right choice,” Monique said as I nodded at her look. It would have to do. We had no time to nitpick. Enzo’s capri, blouse, and cape trio still had last minute issues.
“You look amazing. I have to—” I jerked a thumb in the direction of Enzo’s model who was, as we spoke, being handsewn into her white cotton blouse.
“Go. I will cheer you on from the sidelines,” Monique whispered then gave me big hug. I ran over. Zara shoved the capelet for Enzo’s design into my chest.
“It needs lining,” she barked, her gaze lighting on Enzo. If looks could kill he’d be stone cold right now. “What the fuck has he been doing all day?”
“Being a dick. I’m off.” I ran to the sewing room.
Using Enzo’s machine so not to waste time rethreading mine, I added a soft ivory cotton lawn instead of the China silk Enzo had been whining about.
There was no time to fritter away with battling the slippery, easy to fray material.
I’d take the heat if the judges disliked the lining.
I returned to our workroom at the same time as Claude. We met in the corridor, his smile the one bright thing in this entire day.
“You look frazzled,” he said as his PA fluttered about asking him something that he brushed away like a gnat. Jon gave me a scathing look before falling silent. “Has the assignment been difficult?”
“It’s been challenging,” I confessed knowing the cameraman behind us was filming every word. “But we’re pulling it together.”
“Good. Remember putting your ego aside is important.” His assistant made a choking sound that Claude arched a brow at but continued speaking to me.
“Working with other designers expands your brand in ways you cannot imagine. Now go, finish things. I will be coming in after someone finds some me a café noisette and a chewy biscuit.”
Jon ran off as if Satan were on his leather heels.
“Is the biscuit for you or for Monsieur Pamplemousse?” I asked.
He smiled a genuine smile, showing bright white teeth. My whole being resonated knowing I’d made him happy.
“It depends on how good the biscuit looks. I’ve not had a midday meal so if the doggie treat seems appetizing and sugary I may nibble on it.”
There was a pause then, a glitch in time, where everything around the two of us in that narrow hallway froze.
“Do you like sweet things to nibble on?” I asked, cape dangling in my hand.
“Fresh sweet things, yes, very much so,” he whispered in reply. My cock plumped up immediately then, because fate was a cruel bitch, the door to the workroom flew open hitting me in the ass as Zara emerged in a tizzy.
“There you are! Give me that damn cape. I’m going to shove it up Enzo’s ass,” she snarled, tugged the capelet from my grasp then disappearing back into the inner depths of hell aka our workroom.
Reality came crashing back around us. “Guess I should go see what I can do.” I tossed my head at the door. He nodded. Jon arrived with his coffee and a two pink macarons.
“Yes, prepare. The judges are going to grade you on creativity, functionality, team collaboration, runway presentation, and sustainability. This should be your assignment to win as you work mainly in repurposed textiles.”
“Yeah well we’ll see if Enzo can get his head out of ass.”
Claude chuckled. I departed just as he was feeding his dog a bit of macaron.
The dark look Jon was throwing my way sped my steps.
Mickey had said he thought they were lovers, or that was the rumor, and I did not want to step on his toes but holy shit Claude and I had some really big flirts.
Maybe that was just his way. Maybe I was just an inexperienced moron who couldn’t read the difference between a casual chat and someone hitting on me. If he was coming onto me then—
“What wanker used the last of the hem tape and didn’t replace it?!” Mickey shouted as he ran past with biking shorts, his red hawk flopping, the super sticky styling putty he used having given up the ghost hours ago. “Bloody fucking rude!”
Chaos ruled. I’d have laughed if my team wasn’t just as frazzled. If this mini collection didn’t push me into blubbering like a baby over in the corner nothing ever would.
***
Somehow by the grace of the fashion gods we were ready for the runway that night.
Was it a polished collection? Nope. We were the losing team, sadly, and Ronan had been sent packing.
We all took the blame for that loss as it wasn’t just his fault.
Our pitch to explain the functionality of our looks as well as what made them appeal to a mass market was flat.
Mickey, on the other team, had talked up their biking looks much better with lots more personality.
Where he had pulled that energy from I had no idea but kudos to him.
Now here we sat, the four losing designers, heads hanging, trying to not look too relieved about not being sent home but feeling really glad about not being sent home.
This was a cutthroat business, no doubt.
Poor Ronan. He’d not done well on the raincoat he’d made for the gingham dress in our collection.
I’d not had time to help him much what with all three looks needing work so yeah, I’d dropped the ball on assisting one of our team.
Now he was gone. Shit, this felt awful. This should have been my assignment to win as Claude had said in the hall.
“Well, that was a rather rough runway,” Soline said as she and Claude took their places on the now empty catwalk. “None of you had looks that blew us away but the final grades in team collaboration swayed the decision to the biking team.”
All four of us on team café nodded. Totally fair. We’d not worked well together at all.
“Lessons were learned this evening” Claude said, his sight darting from one of us to the other. “Carry what you have picked up today for your futures. Working with others is a challenge yes but the benefits will outweigh the petty differences when you team-up with other designers.”
“But enough of the gloom and doom, we asked you all to stay after the show for a reason. A good reason!” Soline beamed down at us. “Tomorrow is a day off!”
“Praise be!” Esme cried out as her hands went skyward in thanks. We all laughed.
“Yes, it is exciting for tomorrow you will be taking part in a press party brunch at Claude’s appartement.
” Everyone gasped. “I know, it is so luxe! You’ll love it.
Claude is being so kind to open his home to us for this presser.
” She pecked him on the cheek. “The brunch will start at eleven and end at three. After the brunch you’re going to be taken to a few famous spots in the city for sightseeing, dinner, and some dancing. How does that sound?”
“Incredible!” I yelled as the others shouted similar things.
“So, rest up so you don’t have big baggy bags under your eyes for interviews in the morning.” She pulled down her lower lids which made Claude’s brows rise. “Your van will be outside at nine-thirty. We’ll see you at Claude’s! Dormez bien !”
Sleep well. Yeah, I was sure we’d all do that. Pfft. If I could erase the sad look on Ronan’s face as he left the runway in dejection from my mind then maybe. It could have been me. That was scary as hell.
A shower sounded good but the producers were waiting in the wings for us to do more confessionals. As if rehashing our humiliation was good for calling forth pleasant dreams.