Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
My design samples were ready at the end of April.
I picked them up in the Garment District and hopped into a taxi with my precious cargo on the seat next to me. Fifteen minutes later, I knocked on the front door of the boutique.
Simone had already locked up for the night, but she was expecting me.
“Come in, come in. They’re here!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She sounded as excited as I was. “Aren’t Kim and Celeste a dream to work with?”
“They’re the best.” Simone knew everyone in the design industry and had pointed me in the direction of the most skilled, reliable, and creative pattern makers and seamstresses in the business. “And you’re my fairy godmother for recommending them.”
I followed her to the stockroom and shoved aside some clothes on a rack to make room for mine while Simone sat in a hot pink chair that looked like Mick Jagger’s lips and waited for the private viewing.
Now that the time had come for the grand reveal, my palms were sweaty as I removed the plastic wrap protecting the fabrics.
“Wait! Why don’t you model them for me?”
The samples were a size 4. I preferred to wear my clothes at least a size up.
But I wanted to impress my mentor, so I retreated to the dressing rooms and squeezed into the first outfit. Merlot velvet bell-bottoms with a dyed lace V-neck top bound by a wide satin sash with a silk flower. The bell sleeves were trimmed in faux fur in a rich plummy purple.
The pants were a bit tight around the ass and I had to suck in my stomach and hold my breath but when I did a quick spin in front of the mirror, I nearly keeled over with joy.
The fabrics felt luxurious, the jewel tones would suit a lot of different skin tones, and the tailoring was impeccable.
I designed this .
I sauntered into the stockroom, doing my best impersonation of a model on the catwalk and struck various poses to show off the designs from every angle.
Simone was the perfect audience. She oohed and ahhed every time I modeled a new piece from my first fall/winter collection.
A moody floral babydoll dress. A poet’s blouse with a cropped wool jacket and high-waisted trousers with silver studs running down the outside seams. And a peacock blue satin Old Hollywood glamour dress with a tulle cardigan.
After I changed back into my own clothes, Simone immediately placed an order for the entire collection and popped a bottle of champagne.
“Those pieces are exquisite.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “To your bright future.”
I blushed at the compliment and drank to my bright future.
I didn’t know if my first foray into fashion design would be a success or a complete bust but I was in love with the entire design process and thrilled with the finished product, so I planned to continue down this road regardless of the outcome.
“You’ll need to do a runway show, of course,” Simone said.
I sat on a Lucite cube across from her. “Isn’t it a little late for that? I don’t even have enough pieces.”
“I’m thinking down the road. I would also approach other boutiques and ask if they’ll stock these pieces.
You want to start getting your name out.
” She tapped her chin and I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.
“In fashion, you always have to be thinking ahead. As soon as you finish one collection, it’s back to the drawing board for the next one. ”
I already had an inspiration and a moodboard for my next collection so it didn’t sound as intimidating as it would have back in December when I started on this journey.
But it was still a little bit intimidating for someone who had never considered fashion as a career.
“Quality over quantity always,” she advised. “When you’re starting out, you want to focus on the narrative and create a cohesive aesthetic.”
I nodded and took mental notes.
“What direction are you planning to go for your next collection?”
“Grunge,” I said. “More specifically Kurt Cobain’s style and the Nirvana song, ‘Come As You Are.’”
“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “Interesting.”
It sounded like she still needed to be sold on the concept so I pitched the idea like I was at a trade show trying to entice buyers.
“Feminine with an edge. Whimsical with a nod to the Bohemian 70’s.
Cross-gender. Think stripey knits and crocheted cardigans.
Babydoll dresses and short plaid kilts over patterned trousers.
A collection inspired by vintage shopping and anti-establishment, reluctant rock stars who aren’t afraid to wear a dress or call out sexist, homophobic, racist assholes. ”
Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have added that last part but Simone nodded sagely.
“Axl Rose.”
“Yeah. Axl Rose. Rock stars aren’t gods and they shouldn’t be treated as if they are.”
“You speak to my punk-loving heart but that’s your aesthetic, you know,” Simone said. “You’re going to be a designer who dresses rock stars and the cool girls who sit in the front row.”
I balked at that idea. I’d always been inspired by music, but I wasn’t entirely on board with her predictions for my future as a designer. “I’m pretty sure my designs are the opposite of that. ”
“Oh, my darling.” Simone shook her head and sighed. “You’re so deep in denial.” She dragged me over to a full-length mirror and stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders. “Take a good hard look. What do you see?”
“A girl with smudged eyeliner and bangs that need a good trim.” I blew them out of my eyes. “A tired girl who needs a shower and got dressed this morning in the clothes she pulled out of the heap on her bedroom floor.”
Simone squeezed my shoulders and gave me a triumphant smile. “Exact Amanté. You look like a rock star or one of the cool girls who sits in the front row. And you are going to take the fashion world by storm. You are a rock star.”
Gosh. Nicky would be so proud.
“While you’re at it, why don’t you design some pieces for that beautiful boy with the ethereal voice?”
My heart gave a little twinge. Gabriel .
“I cannot wait to see what you do next,” she said on our way out the door.
I knew exactly what I needed to do next. It was a Monday night.
When Annika called last week, she asked me what I was waiting for. I told her about the Froot Loops that caught my eye in the grocery store when I was a baby.
“So Gabriel is a box of Froot Loops?”
“No. Well, kind of.” Gabriel was the thing I wanted most but I had the feeling that choosing him was akin to jumping off a cliff without a parachute. You either had to be all in or you shouldn’t bother showing up at all. “Gabriel is Meg Ryan and I’m Billy Crystal.”
When Harry Met Sally was Annika’s all-time favorite movie so she understood the reference immediately.
“Riiiight. So let me get this straight,” Annika said.
“After you watch him fake an orgasm in Katz’s Deli, you wait a million years until you finally decide he’s perfect for you.
But oh no, is it too late? You’re just going to have to run through the streets of Manhattan on New Year’s Eve, declare your undying love and tell him that he’s the last person you want to speak to before you go to bed every night.
And then hope and pray Sally feels the same way about you? ”
“Exactly! You see? You get me.”
“Solid plan. Go get ‘em, Harry.”