Chloe by Design: Making the Cut

by Margaret Gurevich

  “Well, I’m supposed to create outfits that reflect my own personal style, so I want to create clothes that are clean and classic, but still modern and stylish. Probably minimal print if any. I don’t want to use fabric that’s too loud or crazy. That’s just not me. Maybe something with a subtle print would work, or some cool texture. I need something to make them stand out and set them apart.” I realize all of it sounds a bit vague, but Mimi is nodding like she totally gets it.

  “That makes perfect sense. If the clothes are supposed to explain your style, you don’t want embellishments distracting the judges from the basics. You want your natural talent to shine through,” says Mimi.

  “Yes, exactly! So maybe tightly woven cotton, some non-stretchy, cotton-poly blends. What else do you think?” I ask. I start walking around the store and feeling the different fabrics Mimi has hanging on bolts on the wall. I start grabbing different materials — some linens, funky faux leather, slippery silk, and cotton blends in neutral shades. I can feel my body buzzing with excited energy as I start to plan my designs and collect fabrics I think will work.

  By the time I’m done, my arms are totally full and starting to ache. Carrying all that fabric is a serious workout! I dump the pile of fabrics on the front counter, then gravitate toward a rack of gently used clothing to see if any of it can be cut up and incorporated into my designs. I don’t see anything on the rack for my first-round designs, but I decide to treat myself to a sheer, ivory blouse with ruffles down the front that will be the perfect addition to my wardrobe. It’s a great neutral, and I can already picture pairing it with this embellished skirt design I’ve been working on.

  When I finally make it to the front counter, it’s nothing but a pile of fabric. I didn’t realize how much I’d grabbed. The counter must be under that pile somewhere. I see Mimi placing a few more items on the counter too and examine what she’s found.

  “These are perfect, Mimi. Thanks,” I say. I reach out and feel the fabric on top of the pile. “You even found some wool. Nice!”

  “We don’t have much use for it here in California,” Mimi says, “but it’s a must in colder locations. Even if you don’t use it this round, it might come in handy for something later down the line.”

  Mimi folds all my fabrics and places them in a neat pile. “Silk?” she says, holding up one of the pieces I grabbed.

  Mimi’s reaction makes me second-guess my choice a little. I was hesitant about the silk when I picked it up. Silks are really hard to work with. They’re shiny and slippery and tough to manage. In fact, I’ve only attempted one other design with silk before — a black skirt — and it was beyond hideous. I ended up taking it apart and telling my mom to use it as a tablecloth.

  “I know it’s a risk,” I say, “but it’s so smooth and soft. I just couldn’t resist. Besides, I thought if I could show the judges that I’m willing to take risks with my designs, it might work in my favor.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” says Mimi, but I can tell she’s not completely sold. “Just don’t be a hero with it. I’d stick to the simple running stitch so you can take it apart easily if you need to.”

  “Thanks, Mimi,” I say, giving her a hug. The thank you is for way more than just her sewing advice — it’s also for how helpful and encouraging she always is. No matter what.

  “No problem, honey,” she says as she finishes bagging up my fabrics and the blouse I grabbed. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  I pull out my wallet to pay for everything, but Mimi motions for me to put it away. “Today is on me,” she says. “Consider it a reward for not giving up.”

  My mouth drops open in surprise. “No, Mimi, you can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s too much.”

  “It’s my store, and I’ll tell you what’s too much,” Mimi says. “You just go make me proud.”

  “There has to be something I can do if you won’t let me pay,” I insist.

  Mimi thinks for a minute. “How about this? When you win, make sure you mention Mimi’s Thrifty Threads, okay? We’ll call it even.” She winks at me.

  I can’t help but smile at Mimi’s confidence. I can only hope some of that will rub off on me. “Deal,” I say. “And don’t worry. When I’m done, you’ll have lines out the door.”

  A week later, Alex and I are back in my bedroom and hard at work. “What’s next, CC?” Alex asks. She’s been calling me that ever since I took the plunge and decided to try out for Teen Design Diva. She says it stands for Courageous Chloe. Better than Cowardly Chloe, so I’ll go with it.

  I glance up from where I’m sprawled on the floor and look around the room. The floor is covered with supplies for matching patterns, cutting stencils, and pinning designs. The first round of the competition is next week, and so far I only have one design fully completed. I’m halfway done with the second, but every minute counts, which is why Alex is there helping. Lucky for me, this week is spring break. While everyone else is busy having fun at the beach, Alex and I are busy designing nonstop. Well, I’m designing, and Alex is offering me words of wisdom and encouragement. At this point, I need them pretty desperately.

  Right now, Alex has scissors in one hand and pins in the other. She looks tired, and I feel guilty. This isn’t her project. She should be enjoying her spring break and downing milkshakes and burgers at the beach with everyone else, not trapped in my room. “Take a break,” I say. “You’ve been helping me for four hours.”

  “I can do more if you need me to,” Alex says as her stomach growls loudly.

  I laugh. “No, your stomach speaks. It demands to be fed. Take a break and go get something to eat. You’ve done more than enough.”

  Alex starts to shake her head no just as her stomach lets out another loud protest. She laughs and lets out a defeated sigh. “Just a short break,” she agrees, setting down the pins and scissors. “I promise you won’t even have the chance to miss me.”

  I laugh again and wave her out the door. “Take your time. Eat some salt-and-vinegar fries, okay?” I feel my own stomach rumbling, but I ignore it. Designing is more important that eating at this point.

  “You got it, CC,” says Alex as she dashes out the door. A minute later I hear the front door slam, and she’s gone.

  The truth is, while I’ve been super grateful to have Alex’s help so far, I need some time alone with my designs. I need to know I’ll be able to think through ideas and problems on my own without having Alex there to bail me out if my brain freezes. After all, if — no, when, as I have to keep reminding myself — I make it to New York, Alex won’t be able to come with me. I need to live up to my new CC nickname — the one where I wear a superhero cape and save outfits from ruin with a single stitch.

  I look at my first completed design, which is hanging on the outside of my closet door. It’s a white dress with a fitted bodice and a full, gathered skirt. The color and material make the piece casual enough for school, especially if it’s paired with tights and flats, but it’s also something you could throw on for a last-minute party and jazz up with a cute blazer and some jewelry.

  I decided to tackle the silk dress next since I was on a roll, but things did not go as well as I’d hoped. Silk is really hard to work with, just like Mimi said. I knew she had a point, but I was hoping I’d have better luck this time around than I’ve had in the past. But silk is so slippery that it’s hard to manipulate. Even though I used the simple running stitch that Mimi suggested, the fabric refused to cooperate — it kept bunching up. I finally decided to take a break because I was getting so frustrated. I’ll come back to that piece when I’m feeling more confident.

  The design I’m working on now is hanging half-made on one of the many mannequins Mimi gave me years ago. I’ve had tons of patterns and creations draped on it over the years, but the ones I’m working on for my audition are more important than all the rest. After studying my first dress again, which turned
out as well as I’d imagined, I’m starting to second-guess this next design. I know if Alex were still around, she’d probably say, “You’ve already second-, third-, and fourth-guessed it. Just go with it.”

  Okay, I think to myself, I’m going with it. So far, I have a pair of leather-trimmed leggings draped across the mannequin. The faux leather accents along the vertical side seams make them look like a modern tuxedo pant. I study the pattern I’ve sketched for a slim-fitting tunic to pair with the leggings, and something finally clicks in my brain.

  Turning, I paw through the pile of fabric from Mimi’s until I find what I’m looking for — the remaining fabric scraps from the faux leather I bought. By itself the tunic looks a little too plain and simple, but adding leather panels to the shoulders will give it a tough edge and tie it together with the leggings.

  I grin as I hold the fabric up to my dress form. Alex is always telling me I think too much. If I’d just let myself relax, everything would come together easier. She’s right, but my brain doesn’t always work that way. Now, however, it’s on a roll. I pin the white fabric for the tunic to the mannequin’s chest and hold up the leather panels at the shoulders. The contrast between the color and textures is perfect, and paired with the tuxedo leggings it’s a stylish, sophisticated outfit.

  “Yes!” I shout to the empty room. Perfection.

  My stomach growls in response, and this time I don’t think twice about taking a break. I head to the kitchen and make myself a sandwich, scarfing it down quickly. When I’m done eating, I decide to run to Mimi’s and give her an update on my designs.

  I’m still riding high on the excitement of my second design coming together when I burst through Mimi’s door. Her face lights up when she sees me. “That smile must have a great story to tell,” Mimi says.

  “It does!” I agree. “I came up with the perfect idea for my second design!” I launch into an explanation of my fabric choice, and Mimi’s face suddenly falls. “You don’t think it will work?” I ask.

  “No, hon, it’s not that—” Mimi starts to say, but I cut her off.

  “I know the black and white sounds a little stark, but the texture of the leather and the softer fabric play off each other really well,” I say.

  Mimi’s face still looks panicked, and I don’t know what to do — she is normally so supportive and encouraging. Maybe I’m not doing a very good job explaining my design.

  “Chloe, let’s talk about this later,” Mimi says quietly, nodding pointedly toward the back of the store.

  “Wh—” I start to say. But just then Nina walks out of the back room, and I immediately understand why Mimi didn’t want to talk. In all my excitement, I didn’t even hear Nina come in. She probably snuck into the store on purpose, ready to spy, when she noticed me going in. I bet she heard me talking about my design, and Mimi noticed her too late to do anything.

  “Chloe!” says Nina, all fake cheer and excitement. “Imagine running into you here! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. What have you been up to?”

  “Oh, just busy creating,” I say, my own plastic smile firmly in place. I don’t want her to know she’s rattled me. “You know how that is, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, totally,” Nina says, smirking at me. “In fact, I should probably get going. I just got a few amazing ideas, and I have to start sketching right away. Wouldn’t want to forget them. Toodles!” She blows me an air kiss, which makes me want to gag, and then bounces out the door.

  As soon as Nina disappears, so does my smile. I put my head in my hands and groan.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Mimi says, patting my back. “I tried to warn you.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not your fault,” I say. “Just the story of my life.”

  I see Mimi trying not to smile at my melodramatic reaction. I force myself to pull my head out of my hands and stand up. “I guess I should get going too,” I say. “Might as well get started on my other ideas.”

  Unlike Nina, I don’t skip home. Instead, I drag my feet and take my time. Suddenly I’m not nearly as excited or ready to confront the designs I was so pumped up about only an hour ago.

  When I get home, I plop myself down at the kitchen table beside my mom. She’s reading the paper but sets it aside when she sees me. “Cookie?” she offers, holding out the plate.

  I’m too bummed to eat and shake my head no, but my hands seem to have a mind of their own. They grab an Oreo and shove it in my mouth. My mom gets up to pour me a glass of milk, and then sits back down to wait for me to tell her what’s wrong.

  After a few minutes, I take a deep breath. I’m feeling slightly better. Whether you’re six or sixteen, cookies, milk, and moms make everything better. When I’m done chewing, I say only one word. “Nina.”

  Mom nods. “I figured it might be something like that,” she says. “You know what, though? I’ve been dying to hear all about your designs. I’ve been trying to stop myself from peeking before you got home. Can you show them to me while we talk?”

  I clean the crumbs off my hands. “Sure, let’s go upstairs,” I agree.

  My mom follows me up to my room. “So, you want me to just tell you about them?” I ask.

  My mom nods like an excited kid and sits down on my bed.

  I walk to my closet door, where my first design is hanging, and pretend my mom is one of the Design Diva judges. “What you see here is my take on a bubble dress,” I say, trying to sound confident and in charge. “I chose this lightweight material because the color and weight of the fabric make it easy to dress up or down. The fitted bodice and natural waist are flattering on most body types, and the full skirt helps provide contrast and proportion.”

  “Can I come look at it?” Mom asks.

  “Sure,” I reply. While she comes over to inspect the material and shape of the dress, I unearth a pair of metallic silver flats I’d just about given up on. They’d been buried deep in the back of my closet, but it turns out they were just waiting for this dress to make their debut.

  My mom walks over to the mannequin displaying my second design, which is still a work in progress, and I let her view the outfit from various angles before saying anything myself. “This one is fun,” she finally says. “It can work with flats or heels, right?”

  “Definitely,” I say.

  My mom is by no means a major fashionista, but she and I have talked so much fashion over the years that she’s started to look at fashion magazines without my prompting. She even bought GQ for my dad so he can get in on the “family hobby,” as she calls it.

  Mom studies the fabric I’m using for the tunic more closely. “I’m really interested in your choice of colors here,” she says. “This is a very monochromatic palette. Can you tell me more about it?”

  I can tell my mom is trying to play the part of judge, asking a question she’s heard Missy ask dozens of times on Design Diva. “I’m glad you brought that up,” I say, grinning. “I’ve been reading a lot recently about monochromatic styles being popular, which is why I chose to stick with black and white. The contrast between the colors is very edgy, especially with the leather detailing on the leggings and shoulders. Some chunky metallic jewelry will add shine to the outfit and still keep the palette refined and simple.”

  By the time I finish explaining my vision for the design, I’m just as happy and excited as I was when it first came to me. Suddenly it hits me. “Nina doesn’t matter,” I say. “I came home all mad and dejected about her stealing another idea, but it doesn’t matter what she does, does it?”

  Mom gives me an encouraging smile. It’s clear she realized this long before I did. “Not when it comes to you, it doesn’t,” she tells me. “You have to remember that there are always going to be people going after the same thing you are. Some will play fairly, and others won’t. But in the end, it’s how you handle yourself and what you do that matters. You have beautiful design
s; you always have. Sure, to an untrained eye some designs may look the same. But that’s how it is in the fashion world. To those who get it, your uniqueness will shine through.”

  I want to smack myself for not coming to this realization sooner, but I guess everything happens in its own time for a reason. “Maybe having Nina there actually helped push me forward,” I say.

  My mom scrunches up her nose. “Let’s not give her too much credit,” she says with a laugh. “But I guess in some ways she has.”

  I clap my hands together, excited to move forward and finish the rest of my designs. “I’ll just have to motivate myself from now on,” I say.

  Mom smiles. “That’s the spirit.”

  “Do you want to keep me company while I work on my next piece?” I ask. This final design will take the most time. It’s my silk idea, and I have to pay it a lot of attention, but I also know I could use someone to stop me from getting too serious.

  “I thought you’d never ask!” Mom says. “Talk me through it.” She takes a seat beside me on the floor, and I spread my sketches out in front of us.

  My mom and I spend the rest of the day talking, laughing, pinning, and sewing. When Alex calls to check in, we tell her we have it under control. By the end of the week, I’m ready and confident. Judges, here I come.

  I glance up at the clock in the hallway and watch as the second hand moves slowly around the face. Even though I can see the clock’s hands moving, it feels like time is standing still. It’s finally the day of Teen Design Diva auditions, and we’ve been waiting since seven o’clock this morning. I couldn’t sleep anyway, so my mom eventually agreed to get on the road to San Francisco early.

  Thank goodness we got here when we did. Even though we arrived early, I’m still number twenty on the list. An hour after we arrived, the count was already past one hundred, and the producer said anyone else would have to wait until at least the next day if not later. Apparently they can’t guarantee everyone will even get a chance to audition.