Chloe by Design: Balancing Act

by Margaret Gurevich

I’m excited when I get to the back of the binder. The sketches Taylor created are of flowing dresses with geometric patterns. They definitely look like the preliminary drawings for the art deco line. I pick out a gray silk and pair it with silver threading, then paste the combo into my sketchpad. For another dress, I match a satin top with an organza bottom. Too bad none of the bins have embellishments. Threaded pearls would look pretty.

  A few hours later, I take a break for lunch. I run out quickly and buy a sandwich to eat at my desk in the hopes that Taylor will come back early. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say about what I’ve done so far. As I eat, I study the piles of sketches, notes, and designs I worked on this morning. I’m really proud of them, but I can’t help but be a little nervous. What if Taylor hates all the styles I love? I worry silently.

  Finally, Taylor emerges from her office and walks over to my desk. “Let’s see what you have,” she says.

  I watch her face as she flips through my sketches and looks over the notes I made on the laptop. Sometimes she smiles and nods. Other times, her face is unreadable. I take a sip of my water and try to calm my fidgety legs.

  After what seems like forever, Taylor says, “For the most part, you and I are on the same page. That is such a relief.”

  I laugh. “For me too!”

  “I’m glad that you’re not a fan of the loud, busy prints,” she says, pointing to the bright, neon-yellow dress. “These, on the other hand,” she says, setting aside my art deco drawings, along with the sample fabrics and designs I’ve chosen from the bins, “are exactly my style.”

  I shift my chair closer. “I loved the rich feel of the fabric here,” I say, picking up a shimmery silver swatch. I hold it against a sketch of a mermaid-style dress. “This will look great.”

  Taylor cocks her head. “It’s what Stefan had in mind too. He was right on the money putting you here.”

  I beam. My earlier anxiety is gone, and now I’m filled with excitement.

  Tuesday morning, coffee in hand, I’m back in the office. It’s only seven-thirty, but I was itching to start my day. At eight o’clock on the dot, the elevator doors open, and Taylor makes her way down the hallway. Her arms are loaded with bags, but she manages to balance her coffee cup too. I marvel at how put-together she looks.

  “You’re here early!” she says, passing my desk to drop off her bags. “That’s what I like to see.”

  I’m glad she’s pleased, but I also hope she doesn’t expect me to be this early every day. After placing her bags in her office, Taylor eases into a chair beside me, coffee in hand.

  “As you know, Stefan made a last-minute addition to the designs being showcased at Fashion Week next month. Now that I know we’re on basically the same page design-wise, I’d like you to work on coming up with three art deco-inspired design details that can be carried out throughout this collection,” she explains.

  I think about what she wants. “You mean like the beading?”

  Taylor nods. “Exactly. Then, we just need two more elements that can be our signature within these designs. I also have these binders filled with art deco elements to use as inspiration,” she says, placing a crate filled with binders beside my desk. “Get creative.”

  Taylor heads back to her office, and I pick up my pencil and start flipping through the pages. Time to let my imagination run wild.

  ***

  When Taylor checks in after lunch, my sketches are detailed and ready. I enhanced the beading design, showing variations of bead size and type. I also added a sketch of beaded fringe.

  Taylor inspects each one, somehow managing not to spill the coffee she’s holding. If this were Laura, the drawings probably would have been coffee stained by now. This silly detail makes me miss Laura and her chaos. At least I’ll get to see her on Thursday. That feels like a long way away, but Stefan said it’s better to spend consecutive days in each department so there’s less disruption, and I can finish projects I start.

  “Very nice,” Taylor says. “I especially like this stitching design of overlapping V’s. I can see it embroidered in a satin gown.”

  That’s just how I pictured it too. A floor-length dress made of shimmering silver satin. Taylor takes another sip of her coffee and turns a page in my sketchbook.

  “This one is probably my favorite,” she says, examining a scalloped sequin pattern.

  “I really like it too, maybe for the front of the dress,” I say. I imagine the pattern shining, this time on silk fabric, as a model struts on the runway.

  Taylor nods. “You have a good eye for this. If I were the warm and fuzzy type, I’d probably be hugging you right now.”

  I grin. “Mental hug?”

  Taylor laughs. “Sure. I’m glad you made so much progress on this. We only have one more day together this week, and then I won’t see you again until Monday. I’m going to keep you super busy, but I think you can handle it.”

  I think about how much Madison complained about Taylor, and how nervous that made me. But these two days haven’t been bad at all! “Definitely,” I say. “I’m up for anything!”

  Wednesday morning, I wake up to a text from Taylor telling me to check my e-mail. When I do, my jaw drops. There are more than three pages of items she needs me to pick up for her. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was going to keep me busy!

  I feel someone peering over my shoulder and have a hunch that it’s Madison. Sure enough, I turn around and see her smirking at me.

  “No break for you today, huh?” she says. She attempts to sound concerned but totally fails.

  I print out the pages and close my laptop. “Better than being bored all day, right?”

  Madison shrugs. “I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with Princess Taylor anymore.”

  “We get along fine,” I say.

  Madison rolls her eyes. “You would,” she mumbles.

  I decide to just let her comment slide. It’s not worth it. Instead, I grab the pages and head out the door, pausing to say goodbye. Instead of answering, Madison pops in her headphones and starts sketching.

  ***

  As I head to the subway, I skim Taylor’s e-mail again. There’s a P.S. at the end telling me to try M&J Trimming. I’ve never been to that store, so that’s something new. I try to push Madison’s rude behavior out of my mind and focus on the task ahead of me but give up after a few unsuccessful attempts.

  Instead, I whip out my sketchpad and focus on drawing. Madison’s head, complete with earbuds, fills my page. I add a lightweight, off-the-shoulder sweater, darkening the lines. Next I sketch a pair of summer-weight shorts. Even drawing Madison, sketching is still therapeutic.

  Just as I add espadrilles I think Madison would hate, the train stops at Avenue of the Americas. I make a beeline for the subway doors and search for the Exit sign. It’s only ten o’clock, but my hair is already starting to stick to my neck. It’s always hotter underground, but it’s especially sweltering today. Thankfully, M&J Trimming is right in front of me.

  I remember how tingly I felt when I first walked into Mood, and the feeling is back. What Mood is to fabric, M&J is to embellishments. Never in my life have I seen so many trimmings. Everywhere I look I see more lace, ribbons, studs, and crystals. If I were to dump the contents of the store on the floor, it would be deep enough for a swan dive.

  I check Taylor’s list and take in every corner and shelf. What I’m seeing is only the beginning. As I learned from my shopping trip for Laura, tracking down everything on the list will probably take hours. Even so, I can’t wait to jump in and start shopping.

  I’m pulled in many directions, but I try to focus on one item at a time. I start with a wall that says “Crystals,” one of the items on Taylor’s list, and choose a variety of shapes and sizes. I admire the way light reflects off them before dropping them in my basket. Rhinestones hop into my basket next,
then it’s on to the bright pink wall labeled “Buttons.”

  I watch others as I shop. Some people gather their items briskly, while others seem to linger like I do. Studs and pearls beckon, and I toss them into my basket along with embroidered trim in a variety of colors and patterns. Taylor has “chains” on the list, so I grab gold and silver strands, both thin and thick. I imagine them on a dress collar or accenting something off the shoulder.

  The hours pass with me going from one aisle to another, switching my basket for a cart when it gets to be too heavy. It’s after three o’clock when Taylor texts to check up on me. I check off the final five items and text back that I’m just about done. When I head out the doors, arms loaded with bags, my legs ache. But it’s the best ache I’ve had in a long time.

  When I arrive at the office on Thursday, my first day back with Laura, I’m feeling super accomplished. Not only did I make it through my first days in a new department, I also managed to impress my new boss. Spending the next two days with Laura will be the perfect end to my week.

  I step onto the seventh floor — all giddy and happy — but then I see Laura’s office. All the hard work I put into organizing her desk last week is totally invisible. Papers and scraps cover Laura’s table, and her coffee cup teeters on the edge.

  “Hey,” I say, hesitating at the door. “How can I help?”

  Laura’s head swings in my direction like she’s surprised to see me. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” she says. “This arrangement has not been working for me at all.”

  I’m flattered, but the dark circles under Laura’s eyes make me feel really bad for her.

  Laura smiles. “It’s my fault. I did too good a job convincing Stefan how competent I am when I had you full-time. Now that you’re gone for the first part of each week, it’s killer!”

  I want to help but have no idea which mess to tackle first. Laura scans the inspiration boards hanging in her office and stops at one with jackets. “Let’s start here,” she says.

  I step forward and study the board. Some of the jackets have sleeves, and some are vests. Some are form fitting, others looser. I look for some kind of theme that screams Stefan Meyers but come up short. Just then, the assignment I did for Taylor on my second day pops into my head.

  “Are you looking for a way to pull them all together? Some kind of signature design that runs through all the pieces?” I ask.

  “Exactly,” Laura says. “This is part of the art deco addition Stefan wants to include in Fashion Week. He wants a few ideas that can be interwoven within this jacket line. Does that make sense?”

  This is exactly what I had to do for Taylor! I totally have this.

  “Completely!” I tell her.

  Laura looks relieved. “I knew I could count on you. Do you have any questions?”

  I smile wide. “Nope. I’m good.”

  Laura bites her lip and flips through some sketches. “Just to make sure, I’m going to leave you with these boards and drawings. Scan them to get a feel for the jackets. Pay extra attention to the art deco designs. Stefan wants them paired with the dresses you’ve been working on for Taylor. Use this sketchpad for your finished designs.”

  I take the boards, sketches, and Laura’s sketchpad and carry them to my desk. Laura definitely looks less tense than when I first walked in. I pile the designs around me and start looking through them. There are embroidered collars, embellished sleeves, and intricately stitched lapels. There are so many options, my eyes start to swim.

  After a while, each one starts to look the same, and I put them aside. Laura only gave me these in case I didn’t know what I was doing, I reason. But I already do. Taylor loved my ideas. They’ll be perfect for Laura too.

  I look through my own sketchpad for the rough designs I did for Taylor and rip out the pages so they’re easier to copy. I imagine the look of surprise on Laura’s face when she sees how quickly I can produce what she wants.

  I compare the drawings for Laura with those I did for Taylor. The dresses and jackets will click perfectly. Same beaded design, same fringe. If the pattern worked for Taylor, Laura is bound to love it too.

  I glance at all the boards and sketches Laura left for me and feel relieved that I won’t have to finish looking through them. Imagine how long that would take! And why bother when I’m able to recreate the same design? That was some quick thinking, I tell myself. I copy the patterns, and in an hour, I’m done!

  “How’s it going?” Laura asks, sticking her head out of her office.

  “Done!” I say, beaming.

  Laura looks at her watch. “Really? I thought this would take the whole morning.” She seems worried.

  “Well, I had a clear vision,” I say, but it sounds kind of lame and rehearsed. Maybe once Laura sees what I did, she won’t be concerned anymore.

  “Let’s see what you came up with,” Laura says. She picks up the drawings I did, and I study her unsmiling face as she flips through them. “You had time to look through the jacket designs?” she asks, motioning to the books and boards she gave me earlier.

  A pit forms in my stomach. She doesn’t like what I did at all. “I looked through some of them,” I say quietly.

  Laura sighs and shakes her head. “I’ll be right back,” she says, walking into her office.

  What did I do wrong? Taylor had said I had a “good eye.” I scan my drawings again. Maybe I missed an important detail? Nope. They look just like the sketches I did for Taylor.

  Laura emerges from her office holding drawings. “These are the designs you did for Taylor, right?” she says, placing the drawings on my desk.

  I look through them. “Yes.”

  “Chloe, I never pegged you as one to take the easy way out. What happened?”

  My head is swimming. What is she talking about? Who took the easy way out? “I — I don’t understand.”

  Laura stares at me. Disappointment is all over her face. She has never looked at me that way before. “Why do you think I gave you all those things to look at?”

  “To get ideas,” I whisper.

  Laura nods. “Exactly. If I wanted you to copy what you did for Taylor, why would I do that?”

  My eyes tear up. I put the drawings I did for Laura and Taylor side-by-side. They’re rip-offs of my own work. I look down at the floor.

  “If you were confused, you should have asked what I wanted,” Laura tells me. Her voice is soft, but firm. “You should have looked at what I gave you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  Laura looks skeptical. “Really?”

  I shrug. I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to get the work done quickly and impress her. But I don’t want to say that. How would it look if I admitted to taking the easy way out? Besides, that’s not what I did, is it? I was just trying to be efficient. Why waste time looking through dozens of designs if I knew what she wanted?

  I feel Laura’s eyes on me, but I don’t want to lift my head. I dig the toe of my sandal into the carpet.

  “Maybe working in two departments is too much for you,” Laura finally says. “I really need your help here, but not like this. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I need to talk to Stefan. I’m not sure this is going to work. Maybe we’re better off moving you out of my department.”

  Moving me out of her department? I think, panicked. Talking to Stefan? “I said I was sorry!” I say, too loud and snippy. Suddenly, I feel like a kid who’s about to throw a tantrum.

  Laura puts her hand on my shoulder. “I know. But I need to think about what’s best for the department and what’s best for Stefan Meyer. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Then she walks away.

  I debate going back to my dorm, but I know I’ll only replay the last hour over and over in my head. Instead, I decide to hit the pavement. Usually, the city no
ise makes clearing my head easy, but not today. I really screwed up. And now it might cost me my spot with Laura. I shake my head. I was so desperate to prove I could do everything, and now it seems like I’ve done the exact opposite.

  My stomach grumbles, but I can’t bring myself to eat. I wander the streets looking at everyone around me. A woman wearing a printed headscarf and a gold necklace double-wrapped around her neck leans against a building to chat on her cell phone. A breeze rustles her long skirt. I search for a bench so I can sit and sketch her, but there’s none around. I settle for closing my eyes and holding the image for later.

  The more I walk, the more I see outfits begging to be drawn. When I spot a cafe with outdoor tables, I order a drink, pull out my pad, and sit down. I focus on a teenage girl waiting for the bus. Her long bangs fall over one eye as she plays with the fringe on her crop top. I use my pencils to outline the top, then add her high-waist shorts. She cranes her neck, and the long, heart-shaped pendant she’s wearing around her neck moves with her. She shifts her feet impatiently, and I add flat sandals to my drawing.

  The bus finally comes, and the girl disappears. The knot in my stomach has lessened, but I still need to talk to someone. I put my sketchpad away, grab my drink, and let my feet lead me. Soon, I’m standing in front of Liesel McKay’s store. She’s a former Design Diva winner, and we bonded when she was my mentor during my competition.

  I step into the store, and the calm I was starting to feel disappears the moment I see Liesel. She takes one look at me and changes the store’s sign to CLOSED.

  “Spill,” she says.

  A few minutes later, we’re seated near the dressing rooms, and I’m doing just that.

  “Laura said she wanted a few design themes that could be integrated with the jackets for Stefan’s art deco line. I did the same thing for Taylor, only with dresses. Laura gave me designs to reference, but there were so many. I figured I knew what I was doing and just copied the same designs I did for Taylor,” I say, voice breaking. “And now Laura’s not sure she wants to keep working with me. She said she needs to talk to Stefan.”