Chloe by Design: Making the Cut

by Margaret Gurevich

  Luke’s face falls as he drops a handful of soggy paper towels on the floor in front of his mannequin. I can’t fault the judges for their critique — dye is still dripping off Luke’s top.

  “Joining him today is Daphne,” Jasmine says. “I can certainly picture what the blouse could have been. The color was gorgeous, and I would have liked to have seen the finished product. Unfortunately, the sewing machine was your downfall today.”

  Daphne looks like she’s trying not to cry as Jasmine turns to Rachel and Jillian. “Girls, not only were your designs almost identical — which is a blatant violation of the rules — they were lazy. It was clear you didn’t give much, if any, thought to their execution. You’re also in the bottom five.”

  “And rounding out our bottom five is Nina,” Missy says. “We know you tried to show romance with your skirt, but I’m afraid the hearts along the hem came across as amateur. They didn’t match the feel of the rest of the skirt and took away from the garment’s sophistication.”

  I see Nina clench her fists. Clearly she thought her story about her first kiss would be enough to win over the judges.

  “There’s no need to draw this out,” Hunter says. “Nina, Daphne, and Luke, you’re safe today. Rachel and Jillian, it’s clear you broke the rules by making identical designs. You will be leaving us today.”

  As Jillian and Rachel sniffle and start to say their goodbyes, Derek leans over and smiles at me. “Welcome to the top,” he whispers. I can hardly believe it. My design has finally broken away from the middle of the pack.

  Looks like Jake’s advice paid off big time — making a connection was enough to propel me to the top.

  “To your first big win,” says Mom, raising her glass as we celebrate my success later that evening.

  “Why thank you,” I say, clinking glasses.

  Mom smiles. “I’m glad you’re in a better mood,” she says. “Just remember that there are still several challenges left. I don’t want one bad day making you doubt yourself, okay?” She tousles my hair like she did when I was little.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’ll do my best.”

  Just then my phone buzzes. I look at the screen and see it’s a text from Hunter. “You have got to be kidding me!” I exclaim. “We already had a challenge today.” I push the phone away without reading his message.

  “Maybe he’s congratulating everyone for making it this far,” Mom suggests.

  I roll my eyes. “Doubtful.” Sighing, I read his message aloud. “‘Congratulations to all who’ve made it this far!’”

  “See!” Mom says. “What did I tell you?”

  “Don’t say ‘I told you so’ yet,” I warn her. “There’s more.”

  I scroll down to read the rest of Hunter’s text. “‘The competition is getting fierce, and our next task is right around the corner. Literally. Meet us at ACE Hardware at eight o’clock sharp for the next challenge.’”

  * * *

  When I get to the hardware store around the corner from our hotel, something is off. It takes me a minute to realize what. Then it hits me — unlike before the other challenges, no one looks happy to be here. Except the judges maybe.

  “I know none of you anticipated this next challenge so soon, but we like to keep you on your toes,” Missy says. “After all, spontaneity is part of the fashion world.”

  “And ratings,” someone mumbles.

  Hunter grins. “Ratings are important for the show, but they also help you. In two challenges, we’ll be down to the final five. In the next stages of the competition, having the opportunity to show your designs will be that much more important. The more the audience hears about and sees your designs, the better for you. Trust me.”

  The skin on my arms tingles. I think back to the Design Diva competitions Alex and I have watched. In past seasons, the final five had their designs displayed in Macy’s and Saks store windows. One season, a challenge prize was a spread in Vogue. I would freak if I won something half that good.

  “For today, all that matters is this elimination,” Missy says. “You’ll be divided into three teams. Two contestants from the losing team will be let go. This challenge will force you to think outside the box since you’ll be using unique materials — duct tape or newspaper. You can use other supplies from the store as well, but one of those materials must make up the majority of your garment.”

  Around me, I hear the other designers grumbling. I don’t blame them. I’ve seen some creative prom dresses made out of duct tape, but I certainly never expected to be working with the material myself. Let alone old newspaper.

  “To keep things fair, your teams will be chosen randomly,” Hunter says, passing around a basket full of folded slips of paper. “Everyone have a number? Good. All the ones stand by Jasmine. Twos, by Missy. Threes, to my right.”

  The designers shuffle to our designated places. My stomach drops as my group comes together: me, Nina, and Daphne. I’m not happy about it, but Nina and I have faked nice before. And if it means winning, I can do anything.

  “You will have one hour to plan your design and gather materials and two hours to make it,” says Hunter. “Decide as a group how you want to split up the duties. If it’s best for each group member to work on his or her strength, that’s fine. If you’d rather all work together, that’s fine too. No aisle is off limits. You may begin.”

  Nina, Daphne, and I stare at each other for a moment. It’s clear no one is quite sure where to begin. Then Daphne takes out her notebook and pencil. “Okay, let’s get started. We need to figure out whether we’re using tape or newspaper and figure out a design.”

  “Agreed,” Nina says. “The bottom is not somewhere I want to be again.”

  “I vote for newspaper,” I say. “It’ll be easier to work with than duct tape. We could do a cool structured dress. Maybe with a pencil skirt or peplum or something. Or we could crinkle the paper to add volume and texture.”

  “I think we should add some color to it,” Nina says. “Otherwise it’s going to be too boring.”

  “We don’t have time,” I remind her. “Even if we could find the supplies to dye it, there’s no time to let it dry. We’d be stuck with soaking wet newspaper. Remember what happened to Luke last challenge?”

  Nina looks irritated, but Daphne nods. “Good point,” she says. “Let’s focus on making something really structural and detailed. That’s a better use of our time.”

  “I disagree,” Nina says.

  “Well, this isn’t the Nina group,” Daphne replies.

  Nina stares coldly at her. I’ve seen that look before, when one of her followers back home dared to disagree with her. The difference now is that Daphne doesn’t back down. Maybe she’s someone to be reckoned with after all, I think.

  * * *

  After twenty minutes of tossing our ideas around, we’ve managed to come up with a workable design — a structured, strapless dress with a pencil skirt and flared peplum. We split up to grab our materials — a huge stack of newspaper, some Velcro, white thread, straight pins, and several pencils, rulers, and pairs of scissors.

  I grab three full-size sheets of newspaper and stack them together so all the edges are lined up. Starting at one side, I start to make pleats for the peplum, which will give our dress some visual interest and structural detailing. I use one of the rulers to measure and fold one side of the paper half an inch, then crease it to make sure it’s crisp. Still moving from the same side, I make a one-inch fold, measuring carefully to make sure the pleats are straight. The bottom half of the dress depends on the structural details, so they have to be precise.

  Flipping the sheets of newspaper over, I fold the paper up to meet the edge of my original half-inch crease. Then I flip the newspapers over again, create another one-inch fold, and crease it firmly. In order to make the pleats, I have to create another smaller, half-inch crease, which I fold up to meet th
e edge of the first half-inch fold.

  When I’m done, I glance down — one pleat done, about a million to go. Luckily, Daphne and Nina are already both hard at work pleating their own stacks of newspapers too. We need them for the peplum plus the waistband and back of the pencil skirt, so it’s all hands on deck to get this skirt done in time.

  Speaking of hands, I glance down at mine. They’re covered in newsprint stains. This is going to be a long, messy challenge, I realize. At least we talked Nina out of dyeing it.

  Once we have four sheets of pleats finished, it’s time to start sewing. I measure to the center of two of the pleated pieces and draw a line in pencil to mark the spot. While I’m doing that, Nina measures the other two pieces and makes a mark about an inch and a half above the center point.

  “We should baste them together first,” Daphne says. “Or at least use a long stitch and a low thread tension. That way we can take the stitches out without ruining the paper if we need to.”

  “Good point,” Nina agrees. “I don’t want to have to redo all those pleats. And more importantly, we don’t have time.”

  It’s hard to believe Nina is being so agreeable. I glance at the other teams, and they seem to be working well together too. Maybe we should have had partner tasks from the beginning, I think. Not only are we getting way more done, but I’m much less anxious knowing we’re doing this as a team — at least now that I see how well we’re working.

  Daphne moves over to the sewing machine and Nina and I exchange a nervous look. I can tell we’re both remembering her losing battle with the sewing machine last challenge. Daphne must sense our fear, because she glances back at us. “Don’t worry, I learned my lesson last time,” she says. “I’ve got this.”

  Sure enough, Daphne sews straight across the pencil lines Nina and I drew, keeping the pleats properly folded as she moves the paper through the machine. Soon all four pieces have their pleats secured in place. Next Daphne grabs one of the pieces with the off-center stitching and lines up the seam with one of the center-stitched pieces, letting the pieces overlap about half an inch. She sews the two pieces together where they overlap, then does the same thing with the other two mismatched pieces. Finally, she sews the pieces together so we have a long strip of pleated paper.

  Nina grabs a length of rope to use as a belt as we move over to our dress form to fit the newspaper bodice and peplum skirt. Daphne and I wrap the pleated paper around the dress form, making sure the center stitching hits at the natural waist. Then Nina belts it to hold it in place. The three of us exchange excited grins. It’s really coming together.

  I grab some pins to start fitting the bodice, pressing the pleats down across the chest so they lie close to the body. I pin the pleats in place in front and back, and Daphne grabs a pencil to trace the neckline and a deep, low-cut back. When we have the neckline set, we bring the bodice back over to the sewing machine and sew just below the traced line, pulling the pins out as we go. Once we’re finished stitching, we cut along the traced line to create the strapless neckline.

  We add the Velcro closure at the back of the bodice and then sew a second waist seam to help smooth the pleats. Having two seams will make the midsection lie flatter and look more flattering. We put the bodice on our dress form for safekeeping. Now it’s time to add the pencil skirt, which will be a separate piece.

  I grab three sheets of newspaper, just like I did with the pleated peplum portion of the dress, and stack them on top of each other. I baste them together, then use an iron to smooth out any wrinkles. It’s important for our pencil skirt to be sleek and straight in order to contrast with the flared peplum.

  I sew as fast as I can, making sure to add a pleated center back vent to the bottom of the pencil skirt so the wearer can walk easily without tearing the dress. While I’m doing that, Nina and Daphne each make their own panels. Finally we connect all the bottom layers, sew them together near the top seams, and attach another piece of Velcro at the back.

  “Thirty minutes!” Jasmine calls out.

  Daphne, Nina, and I put the pencil skirt on the dress form and attach the pleated bodice and peplum over the top. Then we stand back to admire our work. The flared peplum stands out perfectly against the straight pencil skirt, and the neckline is perfectly fitted. But still . . .

  “It needs something,” Nina says. “It’s too plain.”

  I study the dress too. I hate to admit it, but Nina is right. It does feel like it’s still missing something.

  Nina thinks for a minute, then snaps her fingers. “I’ve got it! A belt! I can make a thick one out of the pleated newspaper we have left to help define the waist.”

  I hear the gloating in Nina’s voice. I know it’s petty, but I hate that she’s the one to come up with the idea. And I know she’ll make sure everyone knows it.

  Nina runs to grab more newspaper. I see her flipping through sheets of pleated paper until she finds what she’s looking for — a section that’s darker than all the rest.

  “Fifteen minutes!” the judges announce.

  Nina runs the belt through the machine quickly and attaches a piece of Velcro at the back. “Done!” she hollers triumphantly. She hurries back to the mannequin and adds the belt to our design.

  I have to admit, it’s perfect. The dark newspaper Nina chose is the perfect accent piece — it looks like a wide black belt cinching in the waist of the dress. There’s no way one person could have gotten this much done in the time limit. This dress was truly a team effort. I can only hope it was a winning effort as well.

  As the three teams assemble in front of the judges, I see that it’s not just our group huddled together. Everyone seems to have bonded over this team task.

  “First, let me say how impressed we are with the creativity of all the designs,” says Hunter. “No one just slapped something together and called it art. You all made something unique and wearable out of unusual materials.”

  “I think I’d wear all these designs,” Missy adds cheerfully.

  “Let’s start with group one,” says Hunter, walking over to Derek, Luke, and Sam. They’ve created a high-low, A-line skirt with a chevron pattern entirely out of duct tape. “Great work, guys. I love the striking contrast between the black and white, and the chevron pattern is very modern.”

  Jasmine moves around the dress form, examining the skirt from all angles. “It looks like you had some trouble in the back here. The lines don’t seem to be as straight as they do on the front of the skirt. And they’re a bit uneven.”

  “We had a little bit of difficulty getting the different sections measured precisely to line up our pattern,” Derek says quietly.

  “It was my fault,” says Sam, looking at his feet. “I misjudged the pattern in the back.”

  “But we all came together to make it work and created a very wearable skirt,” Luke says, trying to end on a positive note.

  “Thank you,” says Hunter. “Missy, do you want to discuss group two’s design?”

  “Love to!” Missy says, walking over to Shane, Curt, and Tom. They’ve created a dress with a full skirt made out of garbage bags and a strapless top out of black duct tape. Even from here, I can tell that it’s not as sophisticated as group one’s skirt.

  We’re the only group that went with newspaper, I realize. Hopefully that risk is a good thing. Maybe it will set us apart.

  Missy examines the dress. “I like the look of this dress. The full skirt is very fun, and I like the varying proportions between that and the more fitted top. I could definitely see this as a party dress.”

  “Can I say something about it?” Jasmine asks. She doesn’t wait for a response. “I appreciate the concept, but this skirt is seriously lacking in construction. It’s all taped and scrunched; no sewing involved. And the skirt is really the focal point, not the duct-tape top. That’d be fine if the challenge hadn’t been to use duct tape or newspaper for t
he majority of the garment.”

  “Curt made the skirt!” Tom mutters.

  “What’s your problem, dude?” says Curt. “You’re the one who wanted to make the skirt out of trash bags.”

  Jasmine looks at Shane. “Well?” she says.

  “Uh, yeah,” Shane says, shooting his teammates an apologetic look. “It was Tom’s idea, but Curt did most of the skirt construction.”

  “And where do you fit in here?” Jasmine asks.

  “I, um, was in charge of the top,” Shane says. “I wanted something fitted to contrast with the fullness of the skirt, and the black duct tape reminded me of patent leather, which is why I chose it.”

  Jasmine looks at him for a moment, and Shane seems to be holding his breath. “Good choice,” she finally says.

  Shane lets out an audible sigh of relief as the judges move toward our group. Daphne, Nina, and I are still holding hands. My fingers are sweaty, but I don’t let go.

  “Girls, I have to say, I’m extremely impressed,” Missy says. “You’re the only group that chose to use newspaper for this challenge, and it really paid off. This dress is unique and beautiful.”

  “I agree,” Hunter adds. “I’m glad to see one of the groups chose this material. It really lends itself well to the detail of your design.”

  Even Jasmine seems to be a fan. “I like the focus you’ve put on the natural waist of the dress,” she says.

  Nina is quick to speak up. “That was my idea,” she says. “I thought the dress needed something to contrast the peplum and create added definition at the waist.”

  Knowing the cameras are on me, I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Just keep smiling, I think. If we win, it won’t matter that Nina took the credit. At least she didn’t throw you under the bus.

  “Good choice,” says Jasmine.

  “I’m all about doing what’s best for the team,” Nina says, smiling sweetly. I grit my teeth at her fake team-player attitude.