Louise clumsily climbed on top of the other machine, getting the hem of her purple chiffon gown caught in the stirrups.
“That’s the ticket!” T. W. shouted. “I like a dame with a little spunk.” He turned on the machines, and the animals jerked into motion.
Louise burst out laughing. Some man just called her a dame, and how exactly was this toning her problem areas? Brooke would have died if she could see her like this. She was having too much fun to go home yet, but she also didn’t entirely want to have any more experiences without her best friend.
The machines ground to an abrupt halt, and T. W. suddenly grabbed Louise around the waist and hoisted her off the camel. Louise watched Anna dismount like a gymnast.
“Don’t want to overexert yourself,” he said protectively.
Overexert? He had clearly never been to one of Mr. Murphy’s Saturday morning swim practices.
“See you ladies again tomorrow!” T. W. exclaimed in his upbeat tone. After several more bone-crushing handshakes, Anna and Louise left the gymnasium and stepped back out into the main corridor. So far it seemed playing the part of Miss Baxter was going to be a lot easier and more fun than she had thought!
“I think we go this way to the café.” Anna pushed open a set of double doors. “Oops, wrong entrance,” she said sheepishly.
They had accidentally walked into the ship’s library. The room was paneled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all filled with hundreds of leather-bound volumes. There was a dark wooden ladder propped up against one wall to help reach the upper shelves.
A few bespectacled men were sitting in forest green club chairs at dark mahogany tables flipping through newspapers or books. One man glanced up and raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised to see two women in a room otherwise occupied by men.
Louise loved libraries. When she was a little kid, she had made it a goal to read every book in the children’s section. Somehow, when she was five, and could barely read by herself, that seemed feasible. But now that she was twelve, and read all the time, she realized how unrealistic that idea was. It was kind of sad and overwhelming now when she thought about it.
She walked over to one of the walls and picked out a dark red bound novel at random.
“This is one of my mom’s favorite movies. Judy Garland is incredible….” Louise said, trailing off. Most likely The Wizard of Oz hadn’t been made into a film yet, so she probably shouldn’t say any more. “Anna, shouldn’t you be in school now?” Louise added, thinking once again that she would be in big trouble if she didn’t show up for classes.
“In school? At my age?” Anna said with a shrug. “You really must have hit your head. I finished last year, and I’ve been working for you since then. But soon I’d like to get married and start my own family.”
“How old are you?” Louise tried to keep her jaw from dropping. Maybe Anna was one of those people who looked really, really good for, what was she, thirty?
“Seventeen. But not for long; I’ll be eighteen next month. In a few years, I’ll be an old maid!” Anna said. Louise laughed, but Anna didn’t crack a smile.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Louise did her best to play along.
“Well, there’s someone, I suppose.” Anna blushed and lowered her gaze. “He works on this ship. We have been spending a bit of time together. He’s so handsome.”
“That’s great. I’d love to meet him!” Louise exclaimed, happy for her new friend. Who was this guy?
“Pssst,” a voice hissed from behind a paper. “Pssst.”
Louise’s eyes darted over to Anna. Were they being too loud?
“Psssst.” The sound was coming from behind a newspaper at a nearby table.
The Atlantic Daily Bulletin lowered, revealing Benjamin Guggenheim’s face.
“I was hoping I would run into you. But I see you’ve found me out instead.”
Louise blushed. “I didn’t mean to, I mean, we were just passing through.”
“Well, I am certainly glad you did. Can you believe this ship has its own daily paper?” he asked as he folded up his periodical and got to his feet, linking his arm through Louise’s elbow. With his chiseled jaw line and intense green eyes, he was even more handsome than Louise remembered. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”
“It’s a bit brisk. Perhaps you can get Miss Baxter a coat?”
“Yes, sir,” Anna replied to Mr. Guggenheim, rushing off before Louise had a chance to argue. They were walking outside on the partly shaded first-class promenade.
“Well, Miss Baxter, I must say, I’ve been hoping we would have a chance to take a stroll,” he said as they walked slowly along the ship’s wooden deck.
Why couldn’t Todd act a little bit more like this? Louise wondered, thinking back to the embarrassing scene that played out in the school hallway yesterday. Where did all the chivalrous men go?
Louise looked down, blushing. She was burning up, despite the freezing temperature. Brisk wasn’t the word for it—they seemed to be taking the arctic route to New York.
“Isn’t the view marvelous?” he asked her, arms clasped behind his back.
“Yes,” Louise replied. “I love the ocean.” The sky was a clear and cloudless expanse reflecting off the never-ending calm cerulean blue sea.
They walked quietly, turning around at the bow to retrace the same steps. The boat must have been a mile long.
“And the ship is truly the epitome of opulence, is it not?”
“Yes, it is,” Louise replied enthusiastically, secretly realizing she was starting to get bored. Do these people actually speak about anything? She had never exchanged so many pleasantries in her life.
“I love your museum,” she began, trying to steer the conversation toward something more interesting, like art. And it was truly one of her favorites.
Her parents had taken her into New York City to see a Julian Schnabel retrospective at the Guggenheim Museum last summer. She remembered how magical it had felt the first time she had walked up the magnificent white spiral walkway under the skylight while looking at some of the most beautiful modern abstract paintings she had ever seen. Some were made on broken plates, some on green army tarps, some on velvet. She saw a whole landscape within those brushstrokes. She could have stayed in that rotunda forever.
“My museum?” Benjamin replied, seemingly perplexed. “What exactly are you referring to, my dear?”
Oops. Does the Guggenheim Museum not exist yet?
Louise panicked. “I’m sorry, I mean, your… castle.” He gave her a confused look.
“I mean your… your estate,” Louise stammered. This guy must have an estate, right? “It’s so beautiful it reminds me of a museum.”
He was still looking at her strangely. “Thank you. Please come back for a visit whenever it suits. We would love to have you.”
We?
They continued walking, but she had no idea what to say next. Was he referring to his girlfriend? His wife? His mom? She was pretty sure he was flirting with her, so maybe he still lived with his parents? Louise was cold and exhausted. She wished she could just be herself.
“Can we sit, please?” she asked as they passed one of the many ornate iron and wooden benches situated throughout the deck.
“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” Benjamin replied, helping her to the seat.
They sat in an awkward silence. Pretending to be this other girl was totally tiring and not really as much fun as she thought it would be.
Louise snapped out of her reverie and turned to see Anna stumbling toward her, arms full of velvet and fur and feathers, her eyes barely visible through the plumes.
“Anna!” she called, excited and relieved to see a friendly face. Laughing, Louise rushed over to help her friend. She plucked the ostrich-feathered hat off the top of the pile and helplessly tried to arrange it on her own head.
“You are an odd one, Miss Baxter,” Mr. Guggenheim said. “Shall I escort you ladies to the Verandah Café for afternoon tea? It
’s about time for me to enjoy a cigar in the smoking room before supper.”
“Yes, please,” Louise answered quickly.
Anna helped Louise into a burgundy velvet coat that cinched her waist with a nauseatingly tight belt. The cuffs were decorated with huge puffs of fur; it was like she had two chinchillas wrapped around her wrists. The coat barely skimmed the floor, making it difficult to walk without a serious risk of falling flat on her face.
“Splendid,” Anna remarked while carefully rearranging Louise’s hat and hair. The coat seemed to weigh about fifty pounds, and Louise was already sweating underneath the weight of all of that fabric. She thought she must have looked utterly ridiculous.
Benjamin led them through a smoke-filled, mahogany-paneled clubroom that smelled strongly of cigars and cedar that adjoined the Verandah Café. “Well, I will leave you two ladies for now.” He removed his gray bowler hat with a flourish and bowed down to kiss Louise’s hand, back to being his dashing self. “Miss Baxter, I look forward to seeing you again this evening for dinner.”
“Thank you, Mr. Guggenheim,” Louise said with a smile.
And with that, he spun around and left. It was a completely opposite feeling than she’d had when he’d first come to the room this morning, but thank Gawd.
Anna and Louise walked through a glass-paneled set of fancy oak-lined doors. The café was bright and airy, with natural sunlight streaming throughout the room. The walls were crawling with trellises covered with bright green ivy right down to the black-and-white checkerboard tile floor. The room was filled with elegantly dressed ladies chatting and daintily sipping from china teacups.
“There’s Lady Duff-Gordon,” Anna whispered to Louise, pointing to a woman seated alone on the far side of the café. She was sitting in a white wicker chair at a corner table by a grand arched window with an amazing view of the ocean, and she gave them an enthusiastic wave. Louise froze. She could not believe that she was actually seeing the designer of Lucile, a legend, alive and in person.
“You should take tea with her. I best be heading back to the suite to take care of the rest of the unpacking before dinner,” Anna said and then gave Louise’s hand an encouraging squeeze. Once again, she left the room before Louise could protest.
Lady Lucy Duff-Gordon was probably not the most beautiful woman Louise had ever seen, but she was definitely one of the most stylish. She wore a pastel green lace dress, the color of a dew-stained grassy meadow on a spring morning, which was tied at the waist with an ivory silk sash. Lucile’s trademark silk flowers were pinned to her breast. She wore an elegant strand of pearls looped three times around her neck and a simple matching green broad-rimmed hat.
“Hello, Lucile, it’s such a pleasure to see you again,” Louise blurted out, unable to mask the excitement in her voice.
If she could have picked ten historic figures to have tea with, Lucile would definitely have made the list. She was one of the most famous British fashion designers from the early twentieth century and one of Louise’s personal favorites, right behind Coco Chanel, Karl Lagerfeld, and Vivienne Westwood. She was one of the first fashion designers to create more feminine and practical clothes for women—with revealing necklines and long slit skirts that you could actually walk in, not to mention a very popular line of lingerie. She dressed all of the chicest royalty and stars of her time. There was a whole chapter dedicated to her in Louise’s vintage book.
“Please, darling, all of my intimate friends call me Lucy,” she said, rising to give Louise an air kiss on both cheeks. “Tea?” Lucy asked Louise and signaled to a waiter carrying a tray of scones and cream.
“Please,” Louise said with a nod. “That sounds lovely.” And it really did.
“Isn’t this ship divine?” Lucile asked and took a delicate sip of tea from a fancy bone china cup. “I just love my pretty little cabin with its electric heater and pink curtains.”
“It’s magical,” Louise agreed, in more ways than one. She tried to sit very still and straight in her rickety white wicker chair so the towering blue-green ostrich plume protruding from her hat wouldn’t be waving around like a flag in the wind. She was having minimal success in that endeavor.
“How did you start designing?” Louise asked as a waiter carrying a polished silver platter delivered her a fresh pot of tea. She didn’t want to seem like a reporter for her school newspaper, the Fairview Press, but she couldn’t help herself. She wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity to interview one of her idols in person.
“Well, I suppose it was out of necessity. After my first husband and I divorced, I was left absolutely penniless. It was then I realized I would have to rely on my own wits and talent to put food on the table. So I set up a dressmaking business, which had always been a passion of mine. It’s nice to have a man around, but darling, you can’t count on them.”
“Yes, I definitely agree with you.” Louise was happy to discover that Lucy was totally turning out to be a cool, modern woman. “But how do you create your designs?” Louise pressed on, taking a sip of English breakfast tea and choosing a black currant scone, which she greedily slathered with raspberry jam, happy to discover that food in 1912 seemed pretty delicious so far.
“The creative process is a magical thing,” Lady Lucy replied, carefully setting down her teacup in its saucer. She had a strong nose and sharp cheekbones, giving off a distinguished and aristocratic air. “But there is a reason why my dresses are known as emotional gowns. I like to truly know my clients, and I believe their dresses should be a material representation of their personality. The cut, the color, the style, all of these elements should be a reflection of that particular woman. I see myself as a psychologist as much as a dressmaker.”
“That’s amazing,” Louise said in awe, wiping a glob of jam from her upper lip. “I see you as an artist.”
“Thank you. I don’t want to dress only the body of the woman; I want to dress her soul,” Lady Lucy continued with a flourish. “What I am searching for in my designs is both truth and beauty. Just because you may be the same size as another woman, doesn’t mean you should be wearing the same gown.”
“How wonderful,” Louise said with a sigh. “The dresses are, like, personalized.”
“Of course, my dear. I spent months sewing your pink gown by hand. And I do feel I succeeded in capturing your alluring spirit. You look absolutely beguiling in it.” Lady Duff-Gordon looked out at the sea through the arched window, lost in thought. “Perhaps that dress will always carry a little bit of both of our spirits in it. That’s one way to cheat death, now, isn’t it? Sorry to be so morose on such a glorious afternoon.”
“That’s fine,” Louise said. “I’m generally pretty morose.” Going to Fairview Junior High could put any halfway sane person in a bad mood.
“I have an unusual idea I want to run by you.” Lucile turned to her, rather, to Miss Baxter. “I had a dream the other night that there was a parade of walking mannequins, all wearing my dresses. Isn’t that surreal?”
“Like a catwalk?” Louise asked and then took another bite of the yummy scone. “In a fashion show?”
“Not cats, dear, women,” Lucy clarified, not understanding Louise’s modern term. “But, yes, it would be a show of fashion. It would be as entertaining to watch as a play. I would have glorious, goddess-like girls, who would walk to and fro dressed in my models, displaying them to the best advantage to an admiring audience of women. Exactly!” she trilled, clapping her hands.
“Good idea.” Louise grinned knowingly. “I think that will be a big success.”
“I just met these two peculiar ladies who seemed to know precisely what I was talking about. They want to help style the first show. What were their names? Glenda? Marla? Never mind…”
“You know Marla and Glenda?” Louise asked excitedly. Maybe they were the same women who gave her the dress at the Traveling Fashionista Vintage Sale. Maybe they could explain exactly how Louise ended up here. “One woman is tall with red hair, the other s
horter and plainer. Both kind of witchy…”
“Why, yes, I believe those were the two women who were talking to me about the parade of walking girls over a card game this afternoon. Very eccentric ladies?”
“Yes.” Louise nodded quickly. “Do you know where they may be? It’s very urgent I find them.”
“No, dear, they said they would find me when I needed them. Very peculiar.”
“Well, please let them know I am looking for them if they turn up. And thank you,” Louise added, not able to suppress a twinge of sadness at the culture she grew up in. She couldn’t believe how much time and thought went into clothes at one time. She hoped that fashion was not a dying art.
“I suppose I should be going,” Louise decided, swallowing a last gulp of lukewarm tea. She felt bad leaving Anna for so long, even though she was having such a great time. “Anna is expecting me.”
“You’ve got me thinking a bit,” Lady Duff-Gordon said, distracted. “I think I’ll stay for another cup of tea before dinner.”
Louise stood up slowly, so as not to disrupt the precarious feathered installation towering over her, and excused herself from the table. She walked quickly through the café and out on the deck before realizing that she would have to rely on the kindness of strangers (or rather one particularly cute porter) to show her back to her stateroom.
Anna was waiting for her in the suite with Miss Baxter’s evening outfit laid out on the bed. She had selected a twilight blue evening gown with a plunging neckline and lace cap sleeves. Louise picked up the dress reverently, admiring the intricate beadwork on the bodice.
“It’s perfect!” Louise squealed with delight, throwing off her heavy velvet cloak and hat.
However, Louise was not looking forward to being strapped back into that gut-wrenching corset. Not like she had a choice in the matter. Anna laced her up even more tightly than the last time. It felt like her internal organs were being squashed and rearranged inside her. How exactly did women wear these on a daily basis?
The Time-Traveling Fashionista Page 6