Chloe by Design: Measuring Up

by Margaret Gurevich

  You mentioned FIDM in your email as well. I still have a contact there and can put you in touch if you’d like to schedule a tour.

  See you soon!

  Jasmine

  “Alex!” I say. “Check this out.” I show her the email.

  “That’s awesome!” says Alex. “And how cool of her to put you in touch with someone at FIDM. But whatever will you stress about now?” She gives me a wink.

  “Haha,” I say, but Alex is right. Sometimes it seems I’m not totally comfortable unless there’s something to worry about. Maybe it’s just that I need to look at a problem from all angles so I can be prepared for potential issues. Let’s go with that. Over-preparedness is good, right?

  “You’ll need so many outfits,” says Mia. She counts off on her fingers. “One for exploring LA, another for the college tour, another for judging, another…” Her voice trails off as she ticks off ten other outfits.

  “Mia, I’ll probably only be there for a few days.”

  “You have to be ready for anything,” Mia says. I’m glad I’m not the only one who over-prepares.

  “Of course,” Alex agrees with faux seriousness. “You never know who you’ll run into. It’s LA, after all.”

  “That means another outfit!” says Mia. “Something for going out in LA.”

  “I’ll be there with my mom,” I remind her. “I don’t think we’ll be doing much going out in LA.” But even as I say it, I can’t help but picture an outfit that would look good among the who’s who crowd of LA. Maybe something edgy, different from my usual style. I draw it on my sketchpad. Black-and-white checkered pants, gray V-neck blouse, black suede jacket, and black ankle boots.

  “I love that!” Mia squeals. “I’m going to LA just so I can wear that.”

  “Remember everything,” says Alex. “That way when I visit you there next year, I’ll know what to expect.”

  That evening, I take out my sketchpad and draw more of Alex’s style for my portfolio. She’s been on my brain since lunchtime. Today, she wore a black leather jacket over a white T-shirt dress and black open-toed sandals that clasped above the ankle. This time last year, those sandals would have been high-tops and the dress a baggy pair of jeans. I draw the old look beside the new one to show contrast.

  I’m sketching Alex for my portfolio, but it’s also a way to help me think through what she said at lunch. I know she’s hoping I choose FIDM because it will be close to the California colleges she’s applying to. And I’d love to be close to her too. Not hanging out with her all summer was hard, and I’m not looking forward to spending a year without her. Going to FIDM would also mean I would be closer to my parents. Being without them all summer wasn’t easy. At least when I was filming Design Diva, my mom got to stay with me in New York City, but after I won and started my internship, I was flying solo.

  There are a lot of things pulling me toward FIDM, I realize, but there’s just something about New York City. Jake’s there, of course, but it’s so much more than that. Until I lived there, I never thought I’d be into the noise and crowds. I was surprised that I not only blended in, but that by the end of the internship, it felt like a second home. When I first came back to Santa Cruz, the silence was weird. For the first week, I had to play a noise app to fall asleep. It’s weird that I can miss a place I only knew for a few short months.

  I start to make a list of pros and cons but don’t get very far. I realize I won’t be able to make a true, accurate list until I’ve visited all the schools. FIT has always been my dream school, but that’s because I didn’t know that much about Parsons or FIDM. It was one of those things I decided as a kid and just went with. I’d always loved designing and had heard about all these designers who went there — people like Calvin Klein and Michael Kors. I wanted to be just like them.

  But I’m seventeen now. I can’t make a choice that will affect my whole life based on something I decided as a kid. But I can’t help but think it would be so much easier if I could.

  * * *

  At dinner, I feel my parents’ eyes on me. I told them the good news about Jasmine’s email when I got home from school, so I know they’re surprised to see me being quiet.

  “What’s up, kid?” asks my dad. “You got such good news today. Why the long face?”

  “What if I love FIDM?” I blurt out.

  My mom and dad exchange confused looks. “And that would be bad because . . .?” my mom says.

  “Because it means I’d have to choose between California and New York.”

  “I see,” my dad says slowly. “And that isn’t something you thought about before?”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter. “Kind of. Way back in my mind. But this trip makes it more real. I don’t know if I can picture myself at FIDM.”

  “That might change once we see the campus and learn more about the school,” says my mom.

  “Then if it does, I’ll have to pick.”

  My dad chuckles. “Honey, you’re going to have to decide either way. Although, you could always hope they reject you. Problem solved.”

  My mom and I laugh. “Okay, okay. I’m worrying too much again,” I say.

  “You are,” my mom agrees, “and I’m here to tell you that everything will be fine. No matter what happens.”

  “That’s right,” my dad agrees. “And while I won’t lie and say we wouldn’t love having you closer to home, you have an amazing opportunity ahead of you. We want you to choose what’s best for you. Experience has shown us that you can handle anything thrown at you. That won’t change whether you’re at FIDM, FIT, or Parsons. Take everything one step at a time.”

  “Exactly,” Mom adds. “Keep an open mind. Just think of all the great things coming up.”

  I give my parents a grateful smile. Their support means so much, and I know I’m lucky to have them. They’re right about the opportunities I’ve been given. I need to focus on how it can all go right. I imagine myself on the set of Teen Design Diva, walking through LA, and wearing my perfect college tour outfit. There are great things ahead. And if I let myself experience them without any strings, there will be many more.

  It took almost a month of being back home, but I think things are finally starting to come together on the college application front. I felt so behind when I first got back from New York — in school and in life. (Especially since Alex managed to make a bunch of new friends and get a new boyfriend while I was gone.) I spent a few weeks just blocking out the application process. Thankfully, Mimi helped me realize I needed to stop psyching myself out. I have to start researching and planning, or I’ll never finish applications by January’s deadlines.

  Soooo… I looked up the requirements for my top choice schools — FIT, FIDM, and Parsons — and started putting together my portfolio for each one. I also have a school visit to FIDM right around the corner. I’m really lucky to be tying my visit in with guest judging for the current season of Teen Design Diva. Not only do I get to be a part of the show again, but the production team is paying for my flight and hotel, which is a huge help. (Touring schools that are all a plane ride away definitely adds up!)

  Honestly, though, I don’t know where I’ll end up. On the one hand, New York has always been my dream — I loved it there this summer, and Jake is there.

  But on the other hand, my friends and family are all in California…

  Oh! I almost forgot to mention what else has been going on since my brain entered college mode. My school’s Winter Formal is in December, and Nina and I are designing some of the girls’ dresses! The good news is that I can use the designs I’m creating in my college portfolios. The bad news is that they’re a lot of work; everyone has a different idea of what they want, and it’s up to me to make each vision into something wearable.

  I’m so excited to be designing again, and it’s fun to imagine these dresses as the start of my own label — way in
the future, I know! — but I’m hoping I didn’t take on too much…

  Well, the car is here to take Mom and me to the airport for the LA trip. Wish me luck!

  Xoxo — Chloe

  When my mom and I land in LA, the airport is a madhouse. But after my time in New York City, the noise and crowds don’t bother me. In fact, the hustle and bustle is sort of comforting. I’ve missed this.

  Mom shakes her head and smiles at me. “You look like you’re actually enjoying the pushing and shoving.” She grabs onto my sleeve as someone bumps into her.

  “I better be careful, or I’ll like it here,” I say. I mean it as a joke, but it’s the truth too. Part of me wants to like LA and FIDM, but there’s another part of me that doesn’t. Not liking it would make it easier because then I wouldn’t have to choose between here and the schools in New York.

  “Speaking of,” Mom continues as she navigates us toward baggage claim, “please remind me what time our FIDM tour is.”

  I see a mom holding the hand of a toddler, which is obviously so the little boy doesn’t get lost. As my mom grips my arm tighter, I smile. She’s holding on to me so she doesn’t get lost. The noise and crowds may make me excited, but they seem to make my mom nervous.

  “Two o’clock,” I say. “That’s in three hours, which gives us time to get to our hotel, change clothes, and grab lunch.”

  The changing clothes part is key. I don’t want to go on the college tour in my current outfit. The long-sleeved striped T-shirt, ripped jeans, and yellow sandals I’m wearing are fine for a plane ride and hanging out in an airport, but I’d like something a little more stylish for touring a fashion college.

  My mom absently bites her nails, and I give her a hug. “Thanks for coming with me. I know this isn’t exactly your scene,” I say.

  Mom gives me a smile and loosens her grip on my arm. “I’d better get used to it. Whether it’s here or in New York, this is clearly your thang.”

  I burst out laughing at her choice of words. “My what?”

  Mom blushes. “Isn’t that what you kids say?”

  “Not really,” I say, still giggling as I grab our suitcases off the carousel. My mom has always been so supportive of everything I’ve done. I’m really going to miss her, no matter which college I go to.

  I must be staring at her because Mom says, “What? Are you trying to get over how uncool I am?”

  I smile at her. “No, nothing like that. I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

  * * *

  “Now this is more my speed,” Mom says as we relax at a table in the outdoor seating area of a café near FIDM. Even though it’s in the middle of the city, it somehow doesn’t attract city noise. Or maybe it’s just an illusion created by the restaurant’s soft décor and the oversized umbrellas shading each table and shielding us from the other patrons as well as city traffic.

  “I read about this place in a magazine,” I say, grabbing a breadstick out of a breadbasket lined with pink paper. “Celebrities like to come here because of the privacy.”

  “Perfect for you, then,” Mom says with a wink. “You need to keep the paparazzi at bay.”

  I laugh. “Please. I think my fifteen minutes are up.” Although since we have our interview after this, I am dressed to impress in a white, open-weave sweater, faux-leather shorts, and black flats.

  Just then, a waiter approaches our table. He stares at us for a few beats, seeming nervous, before speaking. “Um, I’m Jeff,” he says. “I’ll be taking your order.”

  “Hi Jeff,” says my mom warmly. “We’ll both be having the turkey paninis with a side of arugula and goat cheese salad.”

  Jeff writes the order down, avoiding eye contact. “Anything to drink?” he asks.

  “A pink lemonade for each of us,” I say.

  Jeff looks up at me, then quickly back at his pad of paper. “Thank you,” he mumbles before going back inside the restaurant.

  “Do I have food stuck in my teeth or something?” I ask my mom, smiling wide.

  “Nope. I just think you’re wrong about your fifteen minutes being up,” she replies. “He probably recognizes you from Teen Design Diva.”

  I wave my hand dismissively. “This is LA. There are way bigger celebs here.” To prove my point, I glance around the restaurant, but I can’t see who’s who beneath any of the pastel-colored umbrellas.

  Mom shrugs. “True, but reality shows are hot. Plus your face is still memorable thanks to your guest judging appearance on Teen Design Diva this past season. The producers wouldn’t ask you to guest judge again if they didn’t think it would be good for the show’s ratings.”

  I groan. I have mixed feelings about my celebrity status. On the one hand, the guest judging and all the opportunities I’ve been given are amazing. But worrying about how I was portrayed while on the show was less than awesome. When Teen Design Diva first aired, our school and town were abuzz about Nina and me. I was glad all that died down this year.

  “Your salads and paninis,” says our waiter, coming back to our table. The plates rattle a little as he sets them down on the pink tablecloth.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling.

  The server lingers, and I feel weird eating while he’s still there. Finally he takes a deep breath and moves closer to our table. “Here’s the thing,” he whispers after a quick glance behind him, “I’m not allowed to do this, but my girlfriend’s birthday is tomorrow. She’s a huge fan and loved all your designs on Design Diva. She wants to be a designer too. Any chance I can have your autograph? I’d win the prize for best boyfriend ever.”

  “Sure,” I say with a smile. “No problem. I’ll sketch something and sign it for her before we go.”

  “Thanks so much!” He hurries off to wait on another table.

  Mom gives me an I-told-you-so look. “As I was saying…”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I bite into my sandwich, feeling happy and flattered. Sometimes being recognized isn’t so bad after all.

  “Welcome to FIDM!” our perky tour guide says later that afternoon. “My name is Claire, and I’m a senior. Today, I’ll be your eyes and ears for everything FIDM. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

  My mom and I — along with a dozen or so prospective students and their parents — are gathered at the entrance to FIDM’s campus. The white buildings serve as a good contrast to the colorful shrubs and grassy area situated before them. If a campus could feel fashion-forward, that’s how I’d describe this one.

  Claire’s outfit doesn’t disappoint, either. She’s paired a pleated white top with black stretchy jeans and black ankle boots. A red leather jacket adds a pop of color and fun accessories complete her look.

  “This is the main reception area,” Claire continues, leading us into a room with art deco style carpet, muted lighting, and comfy-looking furniture. The students sitting on the couches and chairs are playing on their phones or sketching. In the middle of the room is a mannequin dressed in a patterned shift dress.

  “Even the reception area is fashionable,” I whisper to my mom. Just like that, I can picture myself here. It’s silly because I’ve only seen the courtyard and this one room, but for once, I let myself enjoy the feeling and push the what-ifs out of my head.

  “What I love most about FIDM is the atmosphere,” Claire tells the group. A group of students walks by, and Claire gives them a discreet wave. “You’re so close to all the entertainment and fashion events, and that excitement transfers to the building and the classes.”

  A girl wearing loose peach-colored jogger pants and a black-and-white sweater raises her hand. “Um, how do you focus on school here? It seems so fun and exciting.”

  Claire laughs. “I felt the same way when I first started here, but you get used to it. Even as a senior, I find this place amazing. But you remember why you came here, which is to be a designer, and you put
the fun to the side.”

  The girl nods, but the look on her face tells me she’s not convinced.

  “Let’s keep walking,” says Claire. “The classrooms are next.”

  The classrooms are just as cool as the reception area. Everything is brightly colored, and there are several mannequins stationed around the room for the students to work on too. If we had these kinds of classrooms at my school in Santa Cruz, no one would ever complain about going to class.

  The other prospective students in the group whisper things like “cool” and “awesome,” and Claire tells the group, “The goal of FIDM’s classes is not only to teach but to inspire as well.”

  Okay, that sounds totally cheesy and like something all the tour guides have to say, but it seems true too. Unlike in my school, I don’t see anyone in the class playing on his or her phone or hiding behind a book to take a nap. They’re all listening to the teacher and cutting and measuring and smiling.

  “How long are classes?” asks a boy on the tour.

  “Each one is three hours long,” says Claire. “And carrying a muslin, tote bag, textbooks, and a tool kit to each one can be a pain. You have to plan so you’re not late to class.”

  Three hours? I think. Sheesh! The classrooms may look fun, but that’s a long time. And, if I’m going to carry all that stuff, I need to start working out now so I don’t hurt myself!

  Claire leads the group out of the classroom and back down the hall. “These window displays,” she says, pointing to a glass case with a dressed mannequin, “are all done by students.”

  The current mannequin is wearing a strapless multicolored dress. It has a sweetheart neckline and looks like it’s made of flowers. I imagine one of my designs showcased like this for everyone to see. It’d be a dream come true.