“Can I count on you for some support? I’m freaking nervous about this. I’m only starting out and they’re expecting me to show my collection in front of the entire Parsons faculty, for god’s sake! I won’t sleep or eat for the next six months.”
“Yeah, right,” I respond jokingly, pointing to his empty plate.
“Ouch, touché.”
“You can count on me to help out. If I remember correctly, Jonathan mentioned he was the official photographer for the Parsons student showcase event. Is that the one you’re talking about?”
“Yup.”
“I’m sure he’d be willing to take some pictures for you for free. He also has lots of contacts that could help you get organized.”
“In that case, I take back any negative thing I ever said about him.” He pats me on the shoulder affectionately.
“I’ll try to arrange something so you guys can meet. Maybe dessert at Serendipity?” I wonder how Jonathan will react to meeting Jake in such a girly setting. I can just see it now: Jake flirting with my boyfriend and giving him sweet eyes over hot fudge sundaes. In terms of entertainment, that could be the red maraschino cherry on top.
“That would be awesome. You’re the best, Clem. Listen, we’ll talk later ’cause I gotta run!” Jake gives me a peck on the cheek as he stands up from his chair and grabs all of his stuff, then saunters out of the cafeteria, looking excited.
I remember some wise words from Cécile’s book: “A lady understands that being a good person is a choice you make over and over.” And that’s how I roll.
Just as I’m about to leave, I spot Ellie across the room, and she’s staring my way. She’s giving me a nasty look again. Why does she keep staring at me that way? What have I done to her to merit this? Honestly, I’m far too tired to deal with this nonsense. I stare back at her defiantly before heading to the cafeteria to get what every lady needs to maintain her composure: another strong caff è Americano.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I’m staring out the window of Joe Coffee looking at NYU and New School students walking by. I wonder if any of them have also gotten into trouble lately. They say misery loves company, and I could sure use some support.
I asked Jonathan to meet me here after his work meeting. The café’s vibe is hip and airy. I order a chocolate croissant. And some sparkling water. I don’t need any more caffeine.
I feel bad about what happened last night. After talking to Maddie, it really hit me that I made a serious mistake; I should have gone home instead, and it’s been on my mind all day. Now I just want to talk things over with Jonathan to see if we’re still on the same page.
I peer down at my out-of-character outfit. It feels odd to be wearing these clothes. I try to ignore it; I have more important things to worry about, like whether Jonathan still wants to date me after I made a complete fool of myself.
“Hey, beautiful.” Jonathan kisses me on the side of the head. “Cool jacket.”
I’m not sure if he means it but his compliment makes me feel like gold and pulls me out of my funk. I hope it’s a sign I haven’t ruined my chances with him.
“Everything all right?” he asks, putting his backpack on the seat next to me. I look down sheepishly; that’s exactly what I want to know.
“Yeah, well, um, I guess. Is everything all right?”
“Sure it is, Clementine. There’s nothing to worry about, okay?” He grabs my hand.
“Okay, if you say so. I just feel awful for acting like a complete ass.” I’ve done stupid stuff before, like accidentally shaving off an eyebrow after watching a YouTube tutorial about how to shape them. But pole dancing in public — never.
“That’s not what I saw. You looked great, Clementine, full of raw energy, getting creative on the dance floor.” He runs his fingers through my hair soothingly.
I’m floored. This guy really is special for seeing the art in my dancing instead of the messy drunkeness. I’m falling for him hard. I just hope he feels the same way.
“Oh come on, you’re just saying that,” I say, still holding on to his hand.
“No, I’m not. You should stop being so hard on yourself. We’ve all done something we’ve regretted. It’s no big deal,” he says, taking a sip of the coffee I ordered for him. He looks as sexy as ever with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his eyes full of compassion.
“You think?” I give him a quizzical look. “You’ve done stupid stuff, too?”
“Of course, back in college … I’ve also had too much to drink on a few occasions. Especially after some of those Fashion Week parties. They can get pretty wild.” Jonathan looks out the window.
A red light goes off in my head as I recall Jake’s warnings about dating a fashion photographer. I try to stay calm and tell myself it’s all part of the job. There’s no need to worry about the parties, the booze, and certainly not the gazillion attractive women. But I have a hard time focusing. Questions pop into my head unbidden, including whether or not we’re dating exclusively. Of course, it’s way too soon to even consider it (even though I’d happily make it official right now). I decide to play it cool. This is no time to lose it and become insecure and needy.
“Right. I imagine those parties can get pretty crazy,” I say nonchalantly, as if I know anything about them. But I don’t, at least not yet. I sure aspire to, though — I’m hoping Jake invites me to some.
I get a blank stare and a nod.
It’s not exactly the response I was hoping for. I was hoping he’d just say that he only attends parties with clients or colleagues and goes home early every time. But he doesn’t, so I take a deep breath and try to ignore my discomfort.
“I have to work on my portfolio tonight and tomorrow. But let’s get together tomorrow night. How about we catch some live music in Soho?” he asks in a comforting tone. I’m relieved. He does want to see me again after all. Thank god.
“I’m not sure going downtown again is a such good idea. I tend to lose all self-restraint down there,” I shoot back jokingly.
He moves in close, his shirt pressed up against my borrowed blazer, and looks into my eyes.
“Wherever I go, I lose all restraint when I’m with you.”
And then we kiss. This makes my heart thump and my mood skyrocket into the stratosphere.
I push away my snack with my hand. I don’t need any more sugar or artificial stimulants — my life is already pretty sweet.
Too bad it doesn’t stay that way.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Maddie is out with her mystery man tonight. She told me he was taking her to some film premiere in Tribeca. I can’t wait to meet him to make sure he’s up to snuff. In the meantime, I’m happy to have her place to myself.
I’ve been working on mood boards, which I create for inspiration. I’ve got stacks of magazine clippings, scissors, sticky notes, and coloured pens everywhere. But my conversation with Jonathan plays on repeat in my mind. Some questions remain unanswered: Is he a party boy? A player? Maddie says I could be a role model for other girls because of my inner strength but Jonathan turns me into a puddle. Why am I filled with self-doubt?
Am I scared about dating someone new? Hell yes. Especially after what happened in Paris, and after what Jake said. But I need to snap out of it. For my own sanity and peace of mind. Jonathan seems to be into me despite my silly blunders so this is no time to get cold feet.
To build my self-confidence, I decide to focus on my blog. I need to be more like Maddie, an independent and successful woman. My graphic designer sent me a link earlier today for review, and it’s perfect — exactly what I had envisioned. Now all I need is content.
I pull out my laptop and set it on a pillow on my bed. I’m so lucky to be working here. My room is bright, modern, and feminine, just like the website I’m trying to build. Thanks to Maddie, it’s decorated with scented candles (clementine, of course), crisp
white sheets with a touch of French lace, vintage necklaces, and art posters bought in Europe. There are fashion books — tons of gorgeous books, including Cécile’s — on the shelves and on my nightstand. I guess fashion and its history run in my blood. So does a love for pretty things. And then there’s my lucky cat, a porcelain souvenir from Japan that my dad gave me and that I take with me for luck wherever I go.
A passage from Cécile’s etiquette book says a lady’s surroundings should match her state of mind and be clutter-free. It’s a far cry from that right now; thanks to my earlier homework blitz and collage session, my bedroom has turned into a war zone. That’s okay, it makes me feel productive.
I begin some late-night reading. I thought I’d be asleep early tonight after last night’s nightclub escapade, but somehow I have a ton of energy. I come across an article about a teenage fashionista who suffers from a rare illness that causes her hair to fall out. Her name is Amy.
Amy uses wigs of different styles and colours to match her moods and her clothing. I find her story so inspiring that I send her an e-mail at two in the morning. Also a night owl, she responds immediately. We chat on Skype until three and I ask her questions for my first Bonjour Girl feature. I’m excited. Amy is the kind of woman who leads others by overcoming her own challenges.
She sends me pictures of herself wearing wigs of different colours with funky matching outfits. Her bright and cheery personality makes her a perfect subject for my first blog post.
I download the photos, type up the notes I took during our chat, and add some of Amy’s most inspiring words in large, bold print: “I have found self-respect through living with a severe chronic illness. Now I want to show the world who I truly am.”
After I read this for the third time, I feel silly for being so insecure about dating Jonathan. I honestly need to get over myself. Am I going to spend all my precious time and energy worrying about a guy’s past? Nope.
Instead, I reread Amy’s second inspiring quote: “I tell everyone to just be themselves. With a positive outlook, you can have all you want out of life.”
This amazing quote from Amy gives me the courage to write my first blog post. I feel a mix of excitement and worry pulsing through my veins while I type, my blue nails clicking on the keys as words come pouring out of me. I’m making it happen — not without some anxiety, especially when I think of what Stella might say or do after I publish this. But then I think of my new friend Amy and all the challenges she’s overcome. I also think about the humiliation she may have endured along the way and I tell myself: to hell with Stella. This is my moment of truth. I’m not going to let anyone get in the way.
I finally press the publish key.
I share my first post on all my social media platforms, including Twitter — bullies and haters be damned.
Once it’s out in cyberspace, I turn off my computer, lie down on my bed, and think as many good thoughts as I can about Amy, my blog, and all my future readers. Maybe I can send some positive energy into the world this way. I also thank Cécile for sending me her precious book. She’s been a strong influence in getting me here. I read a few pages of her book, then fall into a short but deep and satisfying sleep.
We’ll see what tomorrow brings. Bonne nuit.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OMG. I can’t believe it. Is this for real? I press my hands over my mouth like I’ve just won the lottery.
The number of people who read and shared my blog post overnight is astounding. The reaction is so overwhelming that I shut down my laptop and reboot it, just to make sure I’m not hallucinating. This is way better than getting scholarship money. It’s lifting up my self-esteem — and that’s priceless.
The clock indicates that it’s ten a.m. I overslept but I guess it’s a non-issue since I have no classes until this afternoon. My guess is that Maddie purposely let me sleep in. I make my way to the kitchen and brew myself a quick cup of tea. While I wait for the water to boil, I wonder if this is a dream. Did Bonjour Girl really take off this quickly? With my vintage coffee cup from Euro Disney in hand, I sit down again in front of my computer and wait for it to reboot. When it finally does, what I see makes me want to jump for joy: there are thousands of reads, shares, likes, and retweets from people in Europe, the U.K., and America. I raise my arms in victory.
Holy crap. This is one of the most exciting moments of my life. The lyrics to Alicia Keys’s song “This Girl Is on Fire” play in the back of my mind.
How did this happen? Was it sheer luck? Magic? The blog fairies? I’m not sure. All I know is that Amy shared the article I wrote about her with her own followers. I made sure her story was told as authentically as possible and I guess it touched people’s hearts.
I feel proud, like really proud. For following my instincts and for not letting anyone’s nasty remarks stop me from moving ahead. I take a soothing sip of tea … but after a few minutes, I begin to fret. What if Stella sees this and tweets something hurtful that makes the sudden interest in my blog disappear? And what should I write about next? I mean, coming across Amy was a lucky break, so where will I find more content like this? My mind begins to dive into negative thoughts.
This needs to stop. I shut down my computer again and get in the shower to calm down. Afterward, I get dressed and text Jake. I need his help to figure out my next move.
Can you meet up?
When?
Like, right now???
You mean TOUT DE SUITE?
Yes. Need to talk to you. URGENT
Boy trouble?
No … business expansion! HUGE!
Oh! YAAAY! Jake at your service! Meet at deli in an hour?
Perfect. You’re ZEE best
Of course I am
xx
Out of breath, I show up at the deli across from Parsons. It’s one of those food emporiums that has a salad bar and a juice bar and everything else under the sun. Jake seems quite at home here. He’s picked up things from every aisle: he’s ordered his regular egg sandwich and piled on the bananas, energy bars, and cold drinks. I open my laptop to show him the warm reception I received from thousands of strangers overnight — for me it’s the creative equivalent of going to a buffet.
“That’s my girl! This is freaking awesome, Clem. Bonjour Girl is a major hit!” He puts down his sandwich and scrolls through my blog post with his sticky fingers. I’m so excited, I don’t care. “I knew you’d score big, girlfriend. You see, you just had to put yourself out there.”
“Mm-hmm. I guess so. I was scared to publish that first post but I’m really happy I did,” I say, still staring at my screen. “I guess I’m on the right track …”
“Right track? Are you kidding me? You’re a rock star! And so is this Amy. What a sweetie. I dig her style, too — she’s fly. I’d love to have her on my team when I present my new collection,” Jake says. I can tell the cup of java has his wheels spinning.
“I knew you’d be impressed with her,” I say. And then, still inspired by the Parsons conference I attended about creating online content, I get a flash.
“I just had an idea. How about we collaborate? You present your design ideas and I blog about them?”
“Oooh, that would be a fab collab. I like the way you think.” He winks.
And just like that, after throwing his empty coffee cup in the trash, Jake takes me by the arm. “Let’s get started, then.”
“Right now? Where are we going?”
He whisks me toward the door. “The design studio. I’ll show you my latest work-in-progress. Maddie says my sewing skills are impeccable.”
“Of course they are.”
“We’re gonna make Cécile proud!” Jake says, pulling out his phone. He launches into a lengthy texting session. I’m not sure who’s on the receiving end of these messages, but my guess is that I’ll soon find out. “Just give me an hour to get organized. I’ll meet
you in the design studio.”
I sure hope to make Cécile proud, because so far this semester, I’ve only given her reason to cringe and worry. But with my popular blog post, it feels as though my big break is finally here. May lady luck continue to be on my side, at least for a while.
“So, where are your precious darlings, darling?” I ask as I saunter into the Parsons design studio where Jake’s been working on his collection. My eyes dart around the room, looking for Jake’s first pieces. I know they’re in here somewhere. He’s been working late every night this week and I know I’m in for a treat.
Jake’s face lights up like the Ferris wheel at the Place de la Concorde in Paris.
The large space is filled with sewing machines, cutting tables, and mannequins. There are a few pieces of clothing that catch my eye, including a light-blue dress covered with embroidered eyes and lashes. The look is modern and playful and I can totally picture myself wearing it, especially on a date with Jonathan.
“A lovely Bulgarian student made that,” Jake says, seeing me admire the piece.
“It’s beautiful.”
My friend places his finger over his mouth, floating around the room while the silk scarf around his neck flows gracefully behind him. Despite Jake’s unhealthy eating habits and occasionally unglamorous ways, he possesses the charm of Truman Capote, the author of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and a popular, well-dressed man about town.
“No, dear one. You won’t find my precious pieces lying around the studio or just hanging on a mannequin. I keep them all in a special hiding place.” He wags his finger exaggeratedly.
He saunters toward a large metal chest in the back of the room and opens it ever so carefully. I have no idea what he’s doing, but the suspense is killing me.
There’s a knock on the door. I can’t believe my eyes when a gorgeous creature sitting in a wheelchair enters the room: it’s Adelina, the blond Russian blogger. In person she looks ethereal with her sculpted cheekbones and perfect eyebrows. She wheels toward us, periodically raising her arms high above her head to dance in her chair, looking like a total rock star. She’s dressed in a simple blue and white striped ensemble, full of simplicity and glamour, looking like a character out of The Great Gatsby, accessorized with a red beret and matching lips. She’s holding a canvas bag with the hilarious inscription Why Go to Therapy When I Can Just Live in NYC and Be Weird?
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