16. Chapter Sixteen #2
“If I die here just prop my bones up in a corner so I never had to leave,” I said which got a rough laugh from them. Pretty sure they all felt the same.
***
At the onset of our final assignment I felt that two weeks for six looks was going to be cake.
After our time knocking out designs in a day fourteen days for a half dozen outfits should be as easy as sewing on a button.
It was not. Ten day in and I was creatively spent.
My muse had packed her bags and flown to the Riveria to lounge about on an Olivette while watching movie stars tan themselves on pale gold sands.
I’d managed to eke out three day looks easily enough, and two red carpet.
The third lux look was just not coming. My sketchbook was rife with drawings I’d scribbled out in bold black marker.
There was simply no inspiration left. I was going to burn out badly, lose the chance to get a degree and set my family up for life. Gone. Poof. Just like that.
So, I left the tiny room where the other two male finalists were sleeping to take a walk. Where I was going I had no clue. Maybe I could just walk out into the Seine ala Bradley Cooper and the sea in A Star is Born.
The atelier was quiet now, the sewists all having gone home hours ago.
I slipped out of the cramped third floor room which had been hastily turned into a dorm of sorts, tiptoeing around the two twin beds holding Mickey and Enzo.
Zara had her own little nook up here. We shared a bath which had also been installed with haste according to Camilo.
This had previously been storage space and would be again.
Clad in some loose fleece pants, a worn tee I’d made a couple of years ago, and rainbow socks I climbed down the stairs to the second floor.
The halls were dimly lit here. I paused at the work station door, unsure of it seeing all the nearly finished designs on my competitors dress forms would inspire me or make me feel worse.
Yeah, worse, for sure. I padded to the stairs, my sight dropping to the corded off dresses.
Something mystical drew me to them so with care I ducked under the red cord then wove my way through the famous designs.
I took care not to touch any of them as I made my way through fashion history.
A certain gown grabbed my attention. I went to stand beside it then sat on a stair a few steps higher.
It was a beautiful gown, elegant of course as it was one of Claude’s, with a distinct sixties flair.
Half sleeve A-line in clover green with embroidered appliqués on the skirt. Very Barrons.
Seated on the step, elbows on my knees, chin resting on the heels of my hand, the dress stirred up a fuzzy memory. One that made me smile despite the abject fear filling my soul.
“What an unusual place to find you,” Claude’s deep, refined voice softly said from behind where I sat.
I glanced over my shoulder. He stood on the riser looking as undone as I had ever seen him.
No suit jacket, dress shirt unbuttoned to show some silver curls, and his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbow.
Instead of a tie round his neck a cloth tape measure hung.
His cheeks were rough with whiskers and his thick hair a tangle as if he’d been running his fingers through it. “And at such an unusual time.”
“I didn’t touch any of them,” I hurried to say which got me a gentle tsk while he moved the top stanchion out of his way. There was no dog on his hip as he neared then plunked his skinny ass next to me on the step.
“As if I care if you would have.” His hip was warm as it pressed into mine. “Suffering from insomnia?”
“Yeah, brought on by the horror of having no clue what my third red carpet look should be.” The confession made me feel slightly less panicked.
“Ah, the muse has gone silent.”
“Not only silent she’s flown to warmer climates to get drunk then laid,” I huffed, my sight leaving his handsome face to settle on the sixties gown. “This dress reminds me of when I was a kid. Maybe six or seven, no older than that.”
“Tell me the memory. Perhaps freeing your mind from the stranglehold of trying to force creativity will help.”
My sight remained on the gown as I spoke.
“This was back before things went to shit. Before Dad died, before we lost the house. Back when we were struggling but not homeless. We were never rich but there were days when we were normal lower-to-middle class. It must have been near Halloween. Mom and Dad were dressing up for a costume party at the neighbors. They had dogs which barked every time I rode my bike past their yard. That’s all I recall of the couple but Mom and Dad liked them.
Mom dressed up like Jackie Kennedy in a pink shift dress with a pearl choker and earrings, not real pearls, fake ones.
She pulled on some white gloves and a tiny hat.
Dad was all cool dude fashion in a suit and slim tie complete with a snazzy bowler hat he’d found at the thrift shop.
Mom told me who they were. I had no clue at the time.
All I knew was my mother was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I wanted to make her pretty dresses to wear every day. ”