Chapter 17 #2
“One second, Sonya.” We stand silent as she spins the pad of paper around, eyeing her design from different angles.
“It’s still not working. I can’t figure out what I’m missing.
” She huffs, pushes the paper to the side, and glances directly at us.
All traces of frustration disappear, replaced with a bright, cheery smile.
“Brilliant, you’ve made it! We were beginning to worry. ”
Before I can stop myself, I say, “I love you.” My hands fly to my mouth. My portfolio falls to the ground. The sketches disperse in piles. My body burns. That was my one moment to play it cool and I ruined it. “I . . . I mean your work!” I fall to my knees and scramble to pick them up.
Clarissa and Sonya also kneel down and assist.
Clarissa hands me a sketch. “Breathe, Minerva. I promise, I’m just a girl from Birmingham who is lucky enough to be able to create clothes for a living. I’m human, just like you.”
“But . . . but you . . . you’re you.”
“I am me.” She giggles.
“And soon, she’ll be Lady Renbrook.” Sonya winks.
“I think I prefer Mrs. Paddy Nelson to the fancy title.”
I shove the remaining papers into a semi-organized pile. We stand.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” I mutter.
“Hmm . . . Sonya, maybe you’d better run and grab some boba. I think she needs a little more time to settle.” Clarissa brushes off the skirt of the electric-blue dress she’s wearing.
“On it, boss.” Sonya salutes her. “Matcha for you. Milk tea for me. And Minerva?”
“Uh . . ” I stare blankly.
“Let’s get her a milk tea,” Clarissa decides.
I bob my head up and down in agreement, unable to form words.
“Coming right up.”
A few moments of silence pass. I continue to stare at Clarissa with wide eyes. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. I’m standing in the Clarissa Lee’s private office in her original boutique.
“You’re more than welcome to stay standing, but the sofa might be more comfortable.”
“Oh, um, yes!” My legs collapse and I plop down onto the sofa.
“Your top is lovely. Is that one of your original designs?”
I glance at my shirt. I’ve momentarily forgotten what I put on this morning. It’s a royal-purple ruffle-sleeved blouse with gray pinstripes. I’ve paired it with black wide-leg trousers. “Yes.”
“I love the drama of the sleeves and the subtle interplay of the pinstripes with the purple.”
“Thank you. I, er, made this for a school project that asked us to create a contemporary look inspired by men’s fashion.”
“Oh, I did that project!” Clarissa takes a seat opposite me. “Mr. Brunswick’s class, if I remember correctly.”
I nod.
“Nearly everyone in my cohort ended up creating a suit dress.” She laughs. “We all thought we’d come up with something new and original.”
“The same thing happened on the day our final designs were due. About three-quarters of my class showed up with a suit dress.”
“Tell me, does Ms. Smith still teach the avant-garde module for the second years?”
“She does.”
Clarissa groans. “Hers was the one class I always dreaded. Nothing I did ever pleased her. I was terrified I’d fail.”
“Me too!” I scoot to the edge of my seat. “She hated every single sketch I brought to class.”
“It’s been done. Think unconventional,” we both say in Ms. Smith’s low, flat, raspy voice. We share a laugh. The ice has been broken; my nerves begin to settle.
It’s easy for me to forget that Clarissa is not much older than me. We spend a few minutes swapping stories about teachers we shared at the London School of Fashion.
“Knock, knock. Room service.” Sonya walks in carrying a tray of bubble tea drinks. “I picked one up for Paddy too. It’s in the break room refrigerator.”
“Brilliant. Thanks, Sonya. What would I do without you?”
“Nothing, because I’m irreplaceable,” she jokes, flipping her hair.
I shake my milk tea, then stab the top with a straw.
It’s easy to see that the friendship between Clarissa and Sonya runs deep.
I can’t help but think about Liz and myself.
I couldn’t have made it through school or settled in to my life here without her.
I wonder if the same would’ve been true of Corinne.
I make a mental note to text her soon. Last I heard, she’d been promoted to principal dancer with the LA City Ballet.
As I take a sip, I let the rich flavor and a few chewy tapioca pearls hit my mouth. “Mmm, this is so creamy. Where is this from?”
“Just around the corner. I’ll point the cafe out when you’re leaving,” Sonya promises. She settles herself next to me.
“That’d be great.”
I can picture myself bringing Sam to Notting Hill and the antique market on one of his free days in the future. We could spend hours teasing one another about what we find. I can practically see if now.
Sam will discover a black tuxedo, cape, gentleman’s walking stick, and a top hat. He’ll step into a changing room and walk out dressed as a stereotypical magician. Meanwhile, I’ll already have found the perfect assistant’s number, a 1920s frilly red flapper ensemble.
I’ll change at the same time he does. When he finds me—surprise! I’ll be holding a plush rabbit toy for him. More teasing will ensue. Then we’ll purchase the garments and take a break from our shopping by grabbing a boba together. I doubt he’s ever tried it.
“Minerva?”
“Sorry, I was lost in thought.” I snap out of my daydream.
Clarissa and Sonya exchange knowing glances.
“And I’m sorry again for being so late this morning. I had a problem with the Tube,” I explain.
“Not a problem,” Clarissa says. “It’s happened to me a few times. The important thing is that you made it. I’m excited to see what you have in store for us.”
I do my best to quell my nerves and begin my presentation.
“Fashion, as you well know, is subjective and ever changing. What’s popular one day may very well be out the next.
For example, during the 1980s, brides favored puffy sleeves, shoulder pads, and dramatic ball gowns.
” I pull up a Pinterest mood board with magazine photos from the 1980s and 1990s.
“By the end of the decade, however, the industry had moved on to sleeker silhouettes.”
Clarissa and Sonya watch me with interest. I have their full attention.
Changing the image, I bring out the first of my sketches.
“As a designer, I prefer to avoid trends as much as possible. When I craft a garment, I aspire to create something that will stand the test of time. That’s why all of my looks come from silhouettes that have repeatedly shown up in collections decade after decade. They’re classic for a reason.”
I clear my throat. “When I thought about the type of dress you might like, Clarissa, I couldn’t see you in something that contained too much fabric.
I also couldn’t see you wearing something overly traditional.
So I sketched a tea-length lace and tulle dress with a three-quarter-sleeved polka-dot lace bolero that can be removed. ”
Clarissa and Sonya take a few moments to inspect my work up close. I had originally thought a mermaid style would flatter her, but it seemed too obvious the longer I thought about it.
My voice shakes as I continue to speak. “I wasn’t sure if you’d planned to do a church wedding, but I thought the bolero being removable would provide you options to change the look of the dress as needed.”
“And what inspired you to add the blue belt and hint of blue tulle underneath?” Clarissa inquires.
Leave it to her to notice the tiny details.
“Two reasons. First, I thought it would be a playful way to incorporate something blue into the dress. Second was that I read in an interview that your favorite feature of Lord Renbrook is his blue eyes. I, er, tried to match the shade of them from memory.”
“What did I tell you, Ris?” Sonya elbows her.
My heart is pounding as loud as a jackhammer. The thud, thud, thud is pulsating through my skull.
“I’d anticipated today to be a friendly consultation. I didn’t expect you to have any actual sketches.”
I hold my breath.
“This is exactly the dress I want for my wedding.”
A feeling of relief washes over me. She likes it. She really, really likes it. “I have two other options to show you too.”
“I’d love to see them.” Clarissa hesitates. “I feel as if I should mention one little detail though.”
“Oh, um, sure,” I respond.
“Paddy and I have had a change of plans. Our wedding isn’t going to be in six months. It’s going to be in six weeks.”
I gulp. Things just became complicated.