“I’m with her,” I say to my mom.
My mom raises her eyebrow. “Never thought I’d hear those words,” she whispers.
I shrug. “I think since we both made it this far, we have a truce. I don’t know if we’ll ever be friends, but I’ll settle for not totally despising each other.”
My mom pretends to wipe away tears. “My gosh, my little girl is growing up,” she says. “I’m so proud of you.”
I roll my eyes. “You are beyond corny.”
A few minutes later, a producer steps into the hallway. “Chloe Montgomery,” she calls. “The judges are ready for you.”
I take a deep breath and gather my supplies. I thought I’d be less nervous this time around, but my palms are just as sweaty as they were the first round, and the walk to the stage feels longer than ever. I stand under the hot lights and take the black sheet off my necklace and dress.
When I practiced this in my head, the judges gasped in astonishment when they saw my design. A part of me waits for that, but it doesn’t happen. Hunter, Missy, and Jasmine look just as serious as ever.
It’s just an act, I tell myself. They have to look that way. “Should I start?” I ask.
“By all means,” says Jasmine.
I try to remember the notes I wrote down on index cards to help me practice so I don’t forget anything. I could have brought them with me, but that would have looked unprofessional. I want every little point I can get.
“The last time you saw this dress,” I begin, “it was minimalist but fashionable. For this task, I wanted to bring it up a notch. I also wanted to make some changes to unify the dress with my other designs from the last round and create a more cohesive collection. With the added accessories and embellishments, I can see it worn to a more formal event. And yet it’s still not over the top. It has a quiet elegance.”
I see Jasmine smile at my choice of words. I reviewed some Design Diva clips online and found one where Jasmine said she wished more clothing “possessed a quiet elegance.” I took it to mean high quality without the loud bling attached, which is exactly what I was going for with my dress. From Jasmine’s smile, it seems like I hit my mark. I hope that’s what the smile means, anyway.
“I used the neutral canvas of my dress as a starting point and played with metallics and crystals to add modern touches,” I continue. “I also looked back at my other successful design from the first round — the tuxedo leggings and tunic. The leather stripe along the side of the leggings gave me the idea to add leather patches to the shoulders of my dress. The faux leather provides a great contrast to the white of my dress and subtly ties the two pieces together.”
Hunter and Missy murmur in agreement, and even Jasmine nods her head. Their reactions add to my confidence. I’m so relieved they seem to like the revised design as much as I do.
“Well said, Chloe,” Hunter says. “I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this. I love that you looked at the bigger picture and referred back to your other designs. The faux leather accents really tie into the leggings you created for the first round of auditions and add a tough edge to what could have been an overly sweet dress. You’re on your way to creating a cohesive collection.”
Missy chimes in next. “As you probably know from Design Diva,” she says, “I’m quite a fan of the bare bones as well. If an outfit has to scream to get my attention, something’s not right. The black, white, and metallic color palette you chose just whispers, and it’s got me.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I can’t stop staring at that necklace,” says Hunter. “Can you tell us about it?”
“Sure,” I reply. “I used a combination of vintage gold studs in different shapes to add dimension and create a pattern. The majority of the necklace is studded and faceted pieces with crystal accents. But it still seemed like something was missing. There needed to be a larger statement piece. I made the center piece a circle with smaller pieces dangling from it, like a dream catcher. I think it really ties all the smaller stones together and gives the necklace a focal point.”
“That’s really unique,” Missy says.
Jasmine laughs. “You always say that, Missy,” she says. “No one even knows what that word means anymore because you say that about everything.”
Missy looks hurt, and her face crumples like she’s going to cry. “You know what, Jazz? Not everyone has to be nasty for no reason,” she snaps.
Jasmine waves her hand dismissively. “I wasn’t done. I was going to say that I agree with you for once.”
“Well, you could have started with that,” Missy mumbles.
It’s awkward standing up here and watching them fight. I catch Hunter’s eye, hoping he’ll see that I need some help. He seems to understand, because he clears his throat. “Chloe, I’m really intrigued by the pendant in the center,” he says. “What inspired you to make that?”
Maybe it’s the stress of the past few weeks or maybe it’s just missing my gramps, but my eyes suddenly tear up. I can’t help it.
“Oh, good going, Hunter,” says Jasmine. “And everyone thinks I’m the one who makes people cry.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not his fault.” I take a deep breath to collect myself, but when I speak my voice still comes out shaky. “My grandfather was really big in the rodeo world. Back when he was alive, my parents used to take me to see him all the time. When he passed away, we stopped going. I still think about him all the time, though.”
I pause and take another breath. “When I was stuck on where to take this necklace, my dad suggested I look at some old photo albums for inspiration. Some of my gramps’s rodeo clothing had really cool embellishments. I found this photo of him at the rodeo. He looked so happy, like there was no place else he’d rather be. He was wearing this bolo tie around his neck, and it had something that looked like a dream catcher in the middle. That’s what inspired me to create this pendant.”
When I finish, I wipe tears off my cheeks. I didn’t realize how much I missed my gramps, and I feel stupid crying on stage.
“Dang, girl,” says Jasmine, “you made me choke up, too. I don’t even have the heart to mess with you. I say definite yes.”
“Yes, of course,” says Missy.
“Yes, from me too,” says Hunter, smiling at me from his seat. “But before I give you your next assignment, which, it seems, is perfect for you, I want to give you some advice. What you just shared with us was gold. Keep that passion and emotion alive and let it guide you throughout this competition.”
I nod, at a loss for words. “Thank you,” I finally say.
Hunter hands me the envelope with the next assignment, and I walk off the stage. As soon as I leave the auditorium, I race over to my mom and Alex. “I made it to the next round!” I shout, waving the envelope in the air.
“Déjà vu all over again!” yells Alex.
“What’s the next assignment?” Mom asks.
“Oh, I haven’t even opened it yet.” I tear open the envelope and stare at the paper. The words “Rodeo-Inspired Clothing” are printed in big, bold letters.
Hunter wasn’t kidding when he said the next challenge would be perfect for me. After my speech about my grandpa, I bet he knew I would love this.
“Awesome!” Alex exclaims, reading over my shoulder.
My mom gives me an excited grin, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. Thanks to Gramps, I have this one in the bag.
When I arrive at school the next morning, Nina is waiting for me by my locker. She’s alone for once — not a single mini-Nina in sight. This time there are no air kisses or fake hugs, probably because there’s no audience there to appreciate them.
Nina holds up an envelope identical to the one Hunter handed me at auditions yesterday. “I heard you talking to your mom and Alex,” she says. “Looks like we’re both in the next round.”
/> “Looks like,” I say. “It’ll be nice to see a familiar face.” I pause. I never thought I’d say it would be nice to see Nina.
Nina must have been thinking the same thing. “Even if it’s me, right?” she says. “Don’t worry. I feel the same way.”
We both laugh. Nina glances down at her feet like she’s not sure what to say next. Then, she bends down and takes a small paper bag out of her backpack. “I have something for you,” she says, handing me the bag.
Nina is giving me a present? Is the world about to end? “Um, thanks,” I say. I stare at the bag, not sure what to do with it.
“Open it,” Nina says.
I follow her command, but I’m careful about it. I mean, this is Nina we’re talking about. For all I know, this could be a set-up and live snakes might jump out at any minute. I wouldn’t put it past her.
But when I peek inside, I don’t see any snakes, rodents, or even bugs. I reach into the bag and pull out a long chain made of gold links. It’s so long that it reaches down to my belly button.
To be honest . . . it’s kind of ugly. The chain looks bulky and awkward, but I can tell Nina is waiting for me to say something. I don’t want to lie and say I love it. I think of how Missy described my necklace. “Wow, thanks, Nina. It’s definitely . . . unique,” I say.
She grins. “I’m so glad you like it. Can you believe it was only five bucks?”
That much? I think. But I force myself to be nice. “What a bargain,” I say instead.
“I have it on good authority that the judges like this kind of stuff,” Nina says, leaning in like she’s telling me a secret. “They call it ‘out-of-the-box’ thinking.”
I want to ask her how she knows what the judges want, but I doubt she’d tell me that part. Nina’s parents know all sorts of important people, so it’s possible she could be telling the truth.
“Well, I can definitely see how this would fit,” I say.
“I got two,” Nina replies. “You can even use yours for the next challenge if you want. I might use mine or save it for New York. We’ll see. Anyway, this isn’t me saying we need to be besties or anything like that.” She shrugs and flashes me a smile that looks surprisingly genuine. “I just didn’t think it would be fair if I didn’t give you a heads-up on what the judges are into. See you later.” With a little wave, Nina disappears down the hallway.
“Later,” I echo. I put the necklace back in the paper bag and shove it in my backpack. Maybe I will find a use for it, but this challenge won’t be the place.
* * *
When I get home that afternoon, I see two trucks parked in front of our house. I take a deep breath and smell food cooking on the grill. My parents didn’t say anything about having company, but if it means an impromptu barbecue, bring on the guests.
“There she is, the next Teen Design Diva,” says my dad as I enter the backyard. “Make way, everyone. Celebrity coming through.”
For a change, I go with the attention and curtsy. “Autographs, anyone? I won’t even charge you this time. Friends and family discount,” I say with a wink.
Everyone laughs. Seated at the table with my mom are two of Gramps’s best buddies, Jim and George. We haven’t seen either of them in at least a year. I hurry over and hug them both hello. “What are you guys doing here?” I ask.
“We came to help,” Jim replies. “Your dad tells us you have a rodeo-inspired challenge coming up, and there’s nothing we like more than talking about the good old days, right, George?”
“That’s right,” says George, running a hand through his gray hair. “Hopefully, our stories can give you some ideas for your designs.”
“Rodeo has changed a lot through the years,” Jim says. “For the better, I’d say. Back when your granddaddy and I were boys, there were no helmets. Nowadays, they encourage them.”
“I don’t do much riding these days, but I sure wish they’d required them back in our time. Hit my head so many times, my memory ain’t what it used to be,” says George.
My dad flips over the meat on the grill, and it sizzles. “Maybe you can do something with that, Chloe,” he suggests. “Embellish the helmets to make them look cooler.”
Somehow I don’t think embellished helmets are exactly what the judges are looking for. Based on the challenge description, it seems like our designs should be more rodeo-inspired than recreations of actual rodeo gear. Plus, I can’t imagine macho rodeo guys being psyched to wear a helmet covered in jewels and other embellishments. And even if they were into it, I don’t have much experience with headgear. Now is not the time to experiment.
Before I can figure out a way to gracefully decline my dad’s idea, Mom speaks up. “What about the clothing itself?” she suggests. “I think that’s more Chloe’s strength, right, hon?”
I can always count on my mom to be on the same page as me. “That’s true,” I say, apologetically. I glance over at my dad, hoping I didn’t hurt his feelings too much.
He moves the steak to a plate and drizzles it with sauce. “You do whatever you think is best, Chloe,” he says with a smile. “I’m not all caught up on my GQ quite yet.”
I smile. I doubt my dad will ever be fashion-forward, but it’s nice of him to try.
“Bring that bad boy right over here,” Jim says, getting his fork and knife ready to dive into the steak.
Dad takes another steak off the grill and brings both to the table. Good thing they both were ready at the same time or there might have been a rodeo brawl in our backyard, bull not included.
Jim and George dig into their steaks while Mom and I wait for dad’s special blue-cheese burgers. Suddenly, George’s eyes light up, and he takes a swig of his lemonade to wash down his food so he can speak. “How about colors?” he suggests. “Our riding gear could certainly use some.”
“It’s not a fashion show, George. People come to watch the sport,” Jim says.
George turns on him. “It is a fashion show now, Jimmy, remember?”
Jim’s face reddens. “Sorry, Chloe, I forgot,” he says apologetically. “I’m a little old school. George is right. Color could sure liven things up.”
I laugh at his discomfort. “No worries, Jim. You’re right — it is about the sport. But, there are probably fans who come to show off their latest gear, too. So, for them, the costume change would be something different.”
An idea begins to brew in my head. I think about the current color palette of tans and neutrals and ways to liven it up. I don’t want anything too crazy, but some brighter colors and cool embellishments — fringe, studs, grommets, things like that — could make it more fashionable.
My parents continue to laugh and reminisce with Gramps’s friends, but I take my burger and excuse myself to check out Gramps’s albums again. I never thought I’d find myself designing rodeo clothing, but after talking to Jim and George I’m feeling inspired. I want to make those outfits so hot that the judges won’t know what hit them.
I spend the next few days looking at old photos, researching everything I can find about rodeo attire, and trying to get my design plan just right. This challenge is a little unconventional — not entirely surprising since Design Diva loves throwing the unexpected at contestants. The judges are always saying they want to see how well they can think outside the box. And rodeo-inspired clothing is definitely outside the box.
George was onto something when he mentioned color. Traditional rodeo gear is usually suede or leather chaps worn over jeans and paired with a button-down shirt. It’s a functional combination . . . but not exactly a fashionable one. Still, I know it’s important to respect the tradition of rodeo and incorporate the judges’ theme, so I’m sticking with the somewhat traditional color scheme of brown, blue, gold, and tan. Then I’ll spice up the outfit with cool embellishments.
My rodeo-inspired ensemble will feature a much slimmer, more feminine silhouette tha
n the usual uniform. I’m creating a pair of slim, bootcut jeans accented with studded leather fringe. Instead of a traditional button-down shirt, I’ve decided on a fitted vest with a cinched waist.
It was nice having Gramps’s friends here, relaxing and telling stories. It’s been a long time since we were so happy talking about him. At least that’s how it’s been for me. It’s hard to talk about him without missing him.
But right now, I try to keep my focus on the happy. I have all my materials spread out in front me — denim for my jeans, several yards of blue plaid for my vest, and all my embellishments.
Today Alex has come over to watch me work. She has her math homework spread out on my floor. She does a problem, then watches me work. Problem, then watch. Back and forth, back and forth, and it’s making me anxious.
Finally I sigh loudly. “Stop!” I say.
“I’m sorry, I’m just impatient!” Alex says. “I want to see what kind of progress you’re making. Besides, watching you is way more interesting than algebra.”
I immediately feel bad for snapping. “Yeah, I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed. This has to be perfect.”
Alex makes a big show of oohing and ahhing over what I’ve done so far. But as she moves around my mess of supplies, she bumps into a can of soda that she’s placed precariously close to my pile of fabric. Luckily, she grabs it before it can spill. “Sorry,” she says.
“If you had actually spilled it, you’d really be sorry,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Tough girl is an interesting look for you,” she says, cocking her head like she’s examining me. “I can call you Cranky Chloe, or—”
“Alex!” I snap.
Alex sighs. “I need something to do,” she says. “I feel so useless.”
“You have a math test tomorrow,” I tell her. “Study.” I know it’s mostly due to the stress of the competition, but I’m starting to get annoyed. I definitely don’t want Alex to be a casualty of my wrath. “Maybe you should go.”
Chloe by Design: Making the Cut Page 6