The Currency of Love

by Jill Dodd

  The show is supposed to be the vehicle that launches us into the world, where powerful fashion industry people attend looking for fresh, new designers. It’s what we’ve worked toward throughout every week of school.

  The news is devastating. Everyone is worried about getting a job. How can we land jobs without a platform to show our work? Students are either freaking out, or silently turning inward. I feel angry and seriously bummed, until my mind begins to churn. I’ve been in hundreds of shows. It’s not that complicated. Why should I just accept their decision? I’m not the kind of girl who gives up or takes no for an answer. I know how to run a show. Why can’t I put on a show?

  I go directly to the administration office to ask if it’s really true and why? The woman tells me it’s the economy. The US is in the worst recession, with unemployment higher than it’s been since the Great Depression. When I tell her my plan to put on a show myself, she’s not happy. So unhappy in fact that she tells me that I can’t use the FIDM name on anything.

  Does she think it will be so bad that they’ll be ashamed of it? Her comments make me even more determined. I instantly start calculating the number of guests to determine the venue size. With my count of around fifteen hundred, we need a large ballroom at a major hotel. I have a little money in the bank, since I worked as much as I could through school, so I go across the street to the hotel where my friend Benny Washington works and put a deposit on the Pacific Ballroom at the Los Angeles Hilton for December 18. They have everything we need: audio equipment, lights, a backstage area to change in, even a long catwalk.

  Our Collection Development teachers can’t believe I am taking this on. My teacher, Mr. Fuller, tells me to contact June Van Dyke, a well-known fashion show producer and announcer. She was the assistant to Edith Head, Hollywood’s most famous costume designer. When Edith died in 1981, June inherited her personal collection of costumes. She offers to let me model Edith’s most iconic costumes at our show—dresses worn in movies by Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor. She also agrees to be our announcer at a very fair price. I am beyond thrilled.

  When I tell the other students I am going to put on a show for the entire graduating class, they look at me like I’m nuts and probably don’t think I can do it. But they’ve got nothing to lose but the price of their tickets. When I go into detail, describing the glamorous setting of the Pacific Ballroom of the Los Angeles Hilton, the lights, the catwalk, and the music, every student beams. (It was later named the Wilshire Grand Hotel; it was demolished in 2013 and has now become the tallest structure in the LA skyline: the Wilshire Grand Center.)

  The mood at school goes from dreary to ecstatic elation. We buzz around like bees, designing our collections, enduring sleepless nights, making patterns, draping on dress forms, and sewing. On top of this, we have finals in all our other classes, and by graduation we’re running on fumes.

  I’m so excited, nervous, and stressed before the show that I decide to fast and pray for three days. When I get hungry, I pray even more for our big day to be a huge success. I don’t want to let anyone down. It’s too big for me to handle, so I keep giving it to God.

  Since we use our friends as models, I hold a meeting to teach everyone how to walk the catwalk. “Walk in a straight line, chin up, looking straight ahead to the end of the runway. Do a spin or two, smiling at the guests along the way. If you trip, get up and keep walking. Nothing’s worse than a stalled show.”

  I print formal invitations and we sell out the entire Pacific Ballroom. My friend John makes an authentic eighties fashion show soundtrack, and best of all we have June Van Dyke as our MC.

  I feel so grateful to Adnan for paying my school tuition. I want him to come to the show and see everything I’ve worked so hard for. I want him to know I didn’t squander the money he gave me, and I want him to be proud of me. I send an invitation to his Paris mansion at 8 Avenue Montaigne, hoping he’ll come, but I don’t hear back.

  The week before the show, we receive bad news. Our two Collection teachers, Mr. Fuller and Mr. Costas, tell us that they are not allowed to attend. They say the administration has threatened to cut their hours if they come. I can’t understand why the administration is so against our show. Are they trying to undermine us? Do they think it makes them look bad for canceling? Are they worried they will be ashamed of it? It feels like my own school is working against me. We feel alone without the support of our teachers. Because I’m not allowed to use the FIDM name on the invitations, I print, “Graduating Fashion Designers present 1983 Collections” instead.

  The morning of the show, I arrive at the hotel and go straight to the ballroom to make sure everything is moving smoothly. The catering department is on the job, rolling in tables, surrounding them with chairs, and assembling the long catwalk. My friend John is setting up the music system and doing sound checks. Others are busy sound-checking the microphones at the podium. A small group of students are dressing the tables with floral centerpieces.

  The room begins to explode with energy as all the students and their posses of models rush in. Then, just before the flood of guests is allowed in, we are met with a terrific surprise! Mr. Fuller and Mr. Costas—the very men who helped us shape each collection—enter the room. Risking their pay, these two elegant men rush straight backstage to greet the students and get to work. Rousing screams of joy fly out from behind the big red curtains. We worship these two men, and the fact that they came to support us after they were told not to thrills us. They’re industry veterans with decades of fashion show experience, and they get right to work organizing and lining up models, checking the styling, and wishing us good luck!

  June arrives holding three of Edith Head’s iconic dresses for me to model. I quickly change backstage into Audrey Hepburn’s little black dress from the movie Sabrina. The packed room of proud parents, friends, and fashion industry professionals buzzes with excitement.

  As the lights go down, I take the stage and stand at the podium. “Welcome to the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising’s graduating class of nineteen eighty-two!” Applause erupts. “I’d like to introduce Edith Head’s assistant and producer, June Van Dyke!”

  June takes the mic—a total professional, mixing a joyous welcome with fashion insider details and humor. John cranks up the music and we open the show with Edith Head’s designs, June giving the historical details of each famous dress as I walk the catwalk. Everything is perfect.

  Each designer sends their troupe of models down the runway, flaunting their hard work and talent. They look so good it’s hard to believe they’re not seasoned designers and models. Each collection is met with crazy, excited applause.

  The varied collections reflect the diversity and individuality of each student. One does a collection of women’s business attire; another designs nude-colored silk blouses, skirts, and dresses with delicate hand beading and appliqué. Her patience is astounding. My friend Dana unveils a collection of lingerie, and Olivia does a collection of clothes in sizes 14 to 22—so rare at the time. Since I love evening gowns, I design floor-length dresses in jewel-toned satin—sapphire blue, ruby red, amethyst, black, and gold, trimmed in black raven’s feathers. The silhouettes have kimono sleeves, fitted hips, and thigh-grazing slits.

  Each time I walk the runway, I scan the audience for Adnan, hoping he’s come to surprise me. But with each trip down the runway, my hopes fade a little more. He’s not here. He is the only thing missing from this beautiful and triumphant day.

  After the last collection of models walk the runway, and the house lights come back on, I go into the audience to greet friends and family. I’m electric with adrenaline. I spot two women from the school administration office in the crowd. I’m surprised and a little confused, but happy they’re here. Did they have a change of heart? I walk over and say hi and thank them for coming. They say they loved the show. Somehow, I still feel like a rebel.

  Designing ROXY in Paris, 1989

  EPILOGUE

  My little Fi
at 500 is packed with teenage girls—one of them is mine. I am endlessly entertained, and curious about the issues they face. Every one of them is on their phone, checking Instagram, texting, and taking Snapchat videos. While I drive, I’m wondering how this instant access and constant speedy digestion of information will affect their lives.

  “Okay, girls, frozen yogurt’s gotta be quick because I gotta get back to work.” They know I’m writing a book. One of them in the back seat asks, “What’s your book about, Jill?”

  My heart drops and I pause, wondering what to say and not to say. “Do you really wanna know?” I ask nervously.

  “Yes, yes! I do! I do!” she pushes.

  I try to put it in a nutshell. “Well, it’s about a young girl, me, who goes to Paris to make it as a model and winds up in a harem.”

  “What’s a harem?” they ask.

  “It’s where a rich Saudi Arabian man has lots of wives.”

  They take this in stride. Then one says, “Was he in the Illuminati?”

  “How do you guys know about that?” I laugh.

  “All the guys at school are obsessed with the Illuminati!”

  Wow, I had no idea. “Anyway, I wasn’t good at standing up for myself like I am now, so I went through a lot with agents and photographers and men. But I wasn’t held hostage like in the movie Taken. The Arab man was honest with me from the beginning. We actually had a great relationship until I got sick of the harem. He paid my fashion design school tuition.”

  Stella says, “You guys know my mom started ROXY, right?” The car erupts in teenage girls screaming questions at me. . . .

  “What?!”

  “How did you start ROXY?!”

  “Is that true, Jill?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “How did you do it?” they scream.

  I take a deep sigh of relief, realizing that this car full of independent, spirited, young women is far more interested in how to run a fashion company than what it’s like to live in a billionaire’s harem.

  Working and living in the fashion business for more than twenty-five years, I did everything from cutting samples to creating, designing, branding, and launching new companies. Fashion was always my big love. Fashion is an art form, and crucial in expressing our own unique personal style. It communicates who we are to the world.

  You should see the looks on people’s faces when they find out I was in a harem. It’s so funny. But I didn’t always find it funny. It took years for me to not feel ashamed when the topic came up. Yet, at fifty-seven, I no longer beat myself up over all my mistakes and character misjudgments. I now know it was part of my growth as a woman.

  We all have scars. We are all wounded. Life is incredibly messy and unpredictable. Obtaining the grace and wisdom to know when to surrender and accept what life throws, or to fight like hell, can take a lifetime to learn.

  I now know that no one is coming to save me. I must save myself. And if I need help, it’s my responsibility to ask. It’s my obligation to learn, grow, and move forward. I believe we are here to grow. I’ve learned and become better at setting boundaries and protecting my peace. I know how to ask for help and to keep looking until I find the information and support I need.

  Life with Adnan taught me that money and success don’t buy peace or happiness, and because I have a lot of personal motivation and ambition, I have to remind myself that “stuff” won’t make me happy—although I love brilliant design and fine craftsmanship. Still, love, friendship, laughter, good health, being creative, working hard, and working together are the things that fill my heart up.

  I believe in making bold choices and creating a life without fear. When my dreams get shattered, I remember to be grateful for what I have. Then, over time, use my imagination to create a new set of dreams and goals.

  I will never understand God, but will keep praying and meditating because it gives me strength and peace. When I’m watching for it, I’ll see a glimmer of heaven through the beauty of nature, a small miracle, or the love of others.

  I have found that the currency of love is respect, empathy, and actively expressing our care and support of those we love. It’s an action—not a passive thing. Love is alive and rises from our spirit and soul. The more we use it, the better it gets.

  Today, with my children, my husband, and my amazing friends, my life is filled with love, laughter, sunshine, support, and peace.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I had no idea how to write a book. I learned by writing over and over and from feedback from friends, coaches, and editors. Juliane Caillouette Noble, working with you in London gave my story structure and soul to build upon—thank you for cooking all those amazing lunches! Shea O’Hill, your understanding of what I was trying to accomplish and wise editing gave me the courage to say what I really wanted to. Christine Bronstein, you came to me when I needed you most, and you pulled out the clarifying emotions I tended to hide. Emily Han, thank you for pushing me further and developing the whole story in a deeper, more focused way. Your writing prompts are so damn good! Thank you also to Lauren Bruno, John Payne, and Sarah Stone, who coached me in the very beginning. I’m sure you rolled your eyes at my lack of skill and are surprised that I never gave up.

  Thanks to Judith Curr at Atria for your wild, spirited passion for books. Thank you to Haley Weaver for holding every single production detail together with such care and professionalism. Many thanks to Diane Shanley for your brilliant copy edit! And to Albert Tang and Rodrigo Corral for the fantastic cover design. I love it!

  Big thanks to Edward Ash-Milby for believing in my story all along. To my many early readers, thank you for your encouragement and steadfast strength that held me up for seven years while I wrote this book. I am grateful to Jillian Lauren, Claire Bidwell Smith, Jenny Feldon, and my Story & Soul sisters for their bravery in writing at their memoir workshop in Ojai, California. Thank you to Enliven authors for your encouragement and support. I’m so glad we have one another. I am forever grateful to my publisher, Zhena Muzyka, for her instantaneous love and belief in my story. Your wise and loving spirit is what we need more of, and I’m glad you are publishing books that heal, encourage, and enlighten. Thanks to my children, Brek, Natalie, and Stella, for pulling together and helping while I wrote. You three are my sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, and I love you! And thank you, Jeff, my precious husband, for your constant support and love. You are a miracle, and I love you!

  PERMISSIONS

  Thank you to the many incredibly talented photographers that have been so kind and generous in allowing me to include their photos in this book. Below are the photographer credits alongside the page numbers of where their photographs appear. I loved working with all of you.

  © Wayne Stambler

  Wilhelmina Models: © Ed Mangus

  © Robert Kittila, © Jean Louis Motte

  © Jean Luc Dolmaire

  © Robert Kittila

  © Lucille Khornak

  © Michel Momy

  © Lucille Khornak

  © Christian Bouvier

  © Georges Vidon

  © Dominic Douieb

  © Jean Louis Motte

  © François Langlais, © Georges Vidon

  © Lionel Gourdy

  © Mark Walpin

  © Ken Chernus

  © François Langlais

  © François Langlais

  © Marina Rossi

  © Robert Kittila

  © François Langlais

  © Alleen Morris Ramrus

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born and raised in Los Angeles, Jill Dodd is a writer and artist. She gained recognition for bridging the worlds of men’s and women’s surfing as the founder and designer of ROXY, where she was the first to sponsor female surfers. Jill graduated with honors from the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising and spent seventeen years as an American swimwear designer. Her bestselling designs at Jag were known as much for their edgy style as for their great fit, due to her many years worki
ng as a fit model. While at Jag, she sponsored professional female volleyball players and windsurfers. At Sunsets and Blink, Jill helped to revolutionize the industry by selling bikini tops and bottoms separately. Prior to her work as a fashion designer, Jill spent ten years as a fashion model. She has appeared in Vogue Paris, Marie Claire, Glamour, Harper’s Bazaar, Mademoiselle, Teen, Cosmopolitan, Girls Magazine, New York Apparel News, Women’s Wear Daily, and many other publications while signed to Wilhelmina Models USA and Paris Planning Europe. She has acted in commercials for the Gap, Vittel, Sprite, and many others. A skilled painter, Jill joined the artist community Laguna Canyon Artists, and she had her first exhibit of paintings in Newport Beach, California, in 2002. She is currently practicing in ceramics. Jill lives with her husband and three children in Northern California. And yes, she married three times, just like Adnan’s holy man said she would.

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