Chapter 11
Eleven
Ihold the phone a foot from my ear as Liz squeals. “You’re designing Clarissa Lee’s wedding gown? The wedding that’s probably going to be featured in every fashion magazine and blog?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Neither can I.” I’m still pacing my flat. At this rate, I must’ve done about three or four miles. “I feel like I’m riding a giant roller coaster in a loop. I’ve never been so excited about anything in my life, but I’m also terrified of screwing this up.”
“First of all, there is no way you’ll muck this up.
You are talented with a capital T. There is no way you would’ve won a scholarship, graduated near the top of the class, or caught Clarissa’s eye without it.
Secondly, you deserve this. You’ve worked your bum off and it’s about time the universe paid you back—”
“I think I got that when the horse sneezed on me,” I interject.
Liz snorts. “Not that kind of payback—the good kind.”
“I know, I’m only joking.”
“What were the terms of the deal? Did they give you a budget? Time frame? Studio space?”
“The wedding is in six months. I have a blank check for whatever I need. And I didn’t ask about the design space. Until our next meeting, I was thinking about using your old room for now.”
“Six months isn’t very much time. And what are you going to do when the lease for the flat is up?”
“Sonya worked that out for me.” I walk toward my kitchen and pour myself a glass of water from the tap.
“Once Clarissa settles on the sketch she likes, I’ll be responsible for the mock-up, and then she’ll assemble a team to help me to bring the real thing to life.
I’ll use the school studio if need be as a temporary setup when it’s time to move. I’m not worried about that part yet.”
“Wow, you get your very own team?”
“Uh-huh. I’d hoped you might be willing to work with me too. I mentioned to Sonya that I know the perfect menswear designer and she wanted a few sketches to show Lord Renbrook.”
Placing the phone down, I take a sip of water. Liz’s voice has reached a new octave. If I’m talented, Liz is ultra-talented in all caps. Menswear may look simple, but it’s just as difficult as working with women’s clothing, especially when it comes to adding some signature style elements to a suit.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be, I think.” She takes a few deep breaths. “I’m going to owe you for life for this.”
“Friends help each other out. Just come with me when I need help picking up supplies and we’ll call it even.”
“I think Soldier Boy might be better suited to a task like that. I’m sure he’s fit and can carry as many bolts of fabric as you need.”
I sigh. In the excitement of the call, I completely forgot that I agreed to meet Sam this weekend.
That seems to be a recurring theme of late.
Sonya and I set up a tentative in-person meeting for Tuesday.
I know they don’t expect me to have too much done, but I’d still like to have some sketches to show them.
With my work schedule, I’m going to need every spare moment I can get to prepare.
“You’ve gone quiet, should I be worried?” Liz asks.
I set my glass down and rub my temples. “I’m just wondering what my work-life balance is going to look like for the next couple of weeks. I’d planned to meet Sam this weekend, but now I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Do not do something stupid like pick one over the other. You can have both. Actually, spending time with Sam is the perfect distraction for you. When are you meeting him?”
“Sunday.”
“Brilliant. Use Sunday as your reward. Tell yourself that you need to get one sketch done so you can completely forget about this commission for a few hours. Don’t sacrifice your relationship with him when it’s so new and you two are getting on well.”
I know she’s right. The pre-Sam me would push every distraction aside and focus solely on the work in front of me.
When I danced with LABT that was exactly what we were expected to do—devote ourselves completely to dance.
When I lost it all, I had nothing left. I don’t want history to repeat itself.
“Okay, you win. I won’t cancel the date.”
“Good. Now talk me through what you’re thinking.”
I walk into my bedroom and retrieve my notepad.
It’s still open to the page with my portrait of Sam’s face.
I stare into his eyes and see a glint of determination in them.
If he can balance a demanding career, like the army and dating me, I can meet him halfway and do the same.
I turn to an empty page and begin jotting down a few notes as I reenter the living room.
“Clarissa Lee’s earliest work uses a lot of floral and plant motifs. I’m thinking maybe I’ll incorporate that into the design.”
“Uh-huh. What else?” Liz says.
I think back to the more recent collections Clarissa has released. “She’s done things with sea life, jewels, and the jungle.”
“Well, those are good, but they’re her work, not your aesthetic. Remember not to lose yourself in your work. You need to find a way to meld the two of you into one. What are you drawn to?”
“Vintage silhouettes. Impressionism.”
“So there’s your answer. Start with looking at photos of vintage wedding dresses on a website like Pinterest. Create a mood board to curate your ideas.”
“Maybe there are some reference photos in the School of Fashion’s archives. I’ll make an appointment to talk to the archivist tomorrow.”
“There you go.”
I jot down a few more ideas:
-Reference photos in the British Library collection.
-Check what’s on at the V and A.
-Antique market for vintage patterns and books.
Satisfied, I wrap up my call with Liz, then spend the remainder of the night looking up SearchTube videos with contemporary bridal collections. I need to see the competition and what I’m up against. Last season, it was sheer corset dresses; this season, it seems to be boatnecks.
I wonder what Clarissa prefers. She’s always in a one-shoulder dress at her shows. Would she want something similar? And what about the Chinese gowns? I have no idea what those look like. I guess I have a lot more research ahead of me than I thought! It’s going to be a long night.
I spend all of Tuesday and Wednesday running all around the city, seeking out anything I think will help me sketch, but instead, my mind is blank.
All the creative energy I usually have is missing.
I’m frustrated. Nothing I do is right. My recycle bin is overflowing with crumpled sheets of paper.
I’m resting my head on my knee when my phone vibrates.
Sam
Hey, Min, how’s it going?
Min
Not good.
Sam
*Frowning emoji*
I snap a photo of the mess I’ve made on the floor and text it to him.
Sam
Are you free for a video chat?
I don’t bother responding. Instead, I click his name.
A moment later, his face appears on my screen, instantly putting me in a better mood.
It looks like he’s sitting on his bed. There are a couple pillows behind his back and a white wall.
He’s in an army-green T-shirt that’s pulled tightly across his broad chest. I see the outline of a set of defined pecs.
“Hi.” My voice is glum.
“What’s got you down? Are those crumpled wads of paper in the picture you sent me?”
“Yeah, they are.”
“Are you playing a game of basketball with your rubbish bin? Or are you working on drawing something and it’s going badly?”
“Both.” I exhale deeply. “I have a meeting with my first-ever potential client next week.”
His face breaks into a Cheshire cat grin. “Well done you. Congratulations are in order.”
“Thanks, except I don’t have the commission yet. It’s just a meeting.” I slam my notebook shut and toss it onto the ground. “The rate my darn sketching is going, I won’t have anything to show her.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes dart from me to the bottom of the screen. He strokes his chin. “Do you have the designer’s equivalent of writer’s block?”
“Yes.” My shoulders slump. “It’s never happened to me before. I’ve always been able to pull a rabbit out of a hat, even at the eleventh hour.”
“Nice magic reference.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want my take on it?”
I nod.
“I think you’re trying too hard. If you take a break and give your brain a little R and R, I’m willing to bet an idea will hit you when you least expect it. How long have you been having a go at sketching?”
“A couple hours.”
“I rest my case. Your brain is trying to tell you it needs a break.”
“The thing is, I don’t know if I can take a break. I’m not one of those people who can leave a task for later. When there is something that needs to be taken care of, I have to get it done as soon as humanly possible.”
“You’d do well if you ever joined the army. We aren’t allowed to leave tasks unfinished either. We’re expected to stay until the job is done.”
“Do you have any openings for a designer? Maybe I could work with you guys as a fallback,” I joke.
“Doubtful. Our ceremonial uniforms, for one, haven’t changed much since Victorian times.
” He sits up taller and repositions his phone.
“Min, the woman I met this past weekend was full of determination. You returned my spur, gave me your mobile number, and agreed to go on a date to the pub with me. You went after what you wanted. What that tells me is that you will find a way to move past the writer’s—or rather artist’s—block. ”
I study his face. His brown eyes are blazing with little flames in them. He’s fired up about this. He believes in me. Strongly. I can almost feel the energy coming through my side of the phone.
“I suppose I could load a few SearchTube videos and see if that helps distract me.” I rub the back of my neck. “Maybe I’ll make myself a snack too.”
“Those both sound brilliant, but I have another way I can distract you too.” He flashes a box of playing cards in front of the camera. “I have a new trick I’ve been working on. Would you care to see it?”
“Yes! Show me!”