“Are you sure this is what you want to say?” she asked.
I gave her a funny look. “Yeah, why?”
Brooke read it again. “It’s just . . . I would’ve told this girl something completely different. Sounds like she’s trying way too hard.”
“And that’s why you don’t give fashion and beauty advice,” I said, getting out of my seat and patting her shoulder. “Looking good takes effort, Lazy McSweatpants.”
Brooke sighed. “I should not have shared that nickname with you guys.”
Toward the end of class, my friends and I took copies of the Wanted poster and split up to tackle the hallways. I headed for the south end of the building, and Gil managed to convince Mrs. H to let him come with me. We chatted with each other all the way there.
“Hey, how’s the fashion show coming along?” he asked.
“Good! We’ve got our models picked out, and Berkeley Dennis is going to DJ the event.”
“Sweet! So all you have left to do is finish the designs?”
I shook my head and laughed sadly. “No, all I have left to do is start the designs.”
Gil stopped. “Wait . . . what? I thought you were done with half of them and sewing the rest.”
“I need to scrap it all and start over,” I told him. “Lazenby’s doesn’t carry anything like I create. The buyer’s going to take one look at my fashions and . . .” I blew a raspberry and made a thumbs-down gesture.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Maybe she’ll really like them. I don’t think you should hide your style.”
“Oh, I’ll still show her my lookbook,” I said, “but if I want to keep her interest, I have to give her what she wants first.”
Gil didn’t seem convinced. “Do you have enough time to start over?”
I nodded. “It won’t be fun, but if I work hard every night and all this weekend, and I don’t go too complicated with the designs, I can get it done.”
He scratched his head. “Sounds like you’re giving up a lot.”
“The business world is all about sacrifice,” I informed him.
He smiled. “And you know that from your many years of experience?”
“From my mom, actually.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “She also told me that boys with long hair are trouble.” I flicked his shaggy bangs.
“Well, thank goodness you didn’t listen to her,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Before you go into fashion hibernation mode, do you want to do something after school?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I can’t. I have to go buy yucky fabric.”
“I can come with you.”
“Really?” I beamed up at him. “That would make it suck so much less!”
Gil laughed. “Of course. And if you need any help with anything else, I can do that, too.”
I grinned evilly. “Even trying on some of the finished blouses?”
He leaned closer. “If nobody else ever finds out.”
I threw my arms around him. “You . . . are the best boyfriend!”
Now if he only knew how to sew, I’d be all set.
CHAPTER
6
Fashion Cents
“Have you ever been to Dee’s Fabric World?” I asked Gil when Mom dropped us off in front of the store.
He shook his head. “I prefer to spend most of my time at Gee’s Fabric World.”
“There’s a Gee’s Fabric World?” I turned to him, and he smiled. “Okay, smarty-pants.” I poked him in the side. “I just wanted you to know that Dee’s is pretty overwhelming the first time you see it.”
Gil shrugged. “Eh. It’s fabric. I’ve worn it. I’m familiar with the concept.”
I smirked as he opened the door for us. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Gil didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at the shelves and shelves of fabric rolls, all arranged by color, pattern, and type.
“Whoa. Is this where all the colors of the rainbow hang out when they’re not working?” He took a few steps toward a shelf and ran his fingers over the fabric. “How do you know which ones to choose? There’re so many!”
“Well, those are all for quilting.” I gestured to the ones he was admiring. “So I don’t use those. We want apparel fabric.” I led the way to the far corner, with Gil trailing behind me, touching everything he passed, from spindles of thread to boxes of buttons. I grinned to myself. It was like having Terrell with me.
“Is that my favorite young designer I see?” asked Dee. She was a stocky woman with graying hair and an awesome fashion sense. Today, she had on a red-and-white damask blouse with silky white pants.
“Hi, Dee!” I hugged her, and she peered around me at Gil.
“Who’s this handsome fella?” She placed a finger to her lips. “Unless he’s not with you, in which case I’d love to introduce him to my granddaughter.”
I giggled and blushed. “No, he’s with me. This is Gil.”
He extended his hand, and she shook it.
“Welcome to Dee’s Fabric World,” she told him. “Are you here to browse or support?”
“Support,” Gil told her.
“I’m getting some extra fabric for the fashion show,” I chimed in.
“Ooh!” Dee’s eyes lit up, and she rubbed her hands together. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”
She bustled away and returned with a swatch of black fabric speckled with stars and whispers of blue.
“As soon as I saw this, I thought of you,” she said.
“It’s beautiful!” I said, taking it from her. Already I could see it as a cute dress or flared skirt. “How much?”
“Twenty dollars a yard.”
“Oh.” My face fell, and I held the sample out to her. For a skirt alone, I’d need two yards, and that was almost all the money I’d borrowed from Mom. “Thanks, but it’s a little outside my budget right now.”
Dee winked at me. “Why don’t you hold on to that sample, sugar? You can always buy the real thing later. For now, we have tons of other options. If you’re tight on cash, you can check out the discount area.” She pointed to the back corner, and I swore the lighting there seemed darker than everywhere else. “Just help yourself and come see me when you’re ready.” She smiled and wandered off to greet another customer.
I gazed at the swatch of fabric she’d handed me, but I must have been more transfixed than I thought because Gil nudged my arm.
“Are you sure you don’t want to use this for the show? I can loan you some money.”
I smiled at him. “Thanks, but even then, it would mean all my designs had the same look. Plus, this pattern is too exciting. I need something that makes me yawn simply looking at it.”
I led the way to the discount area, cringing when the cheap fabrics brushed against me as I walked among them. The good news was that everything was under five dollars a yard. The bad news was that it was mainly polyester and spandex.
“What about this?” asked Gil, pointing out a white fabric spattered with pink pompoms.
“A little young,” I said. “But you’re on the right track.”
I scanned some pale yellows and found one with a yellow-and-gray argyle pattern.
“Not my style at all.” I wrinkled my nose. “Which means it’s perfect.”
“Oh, I can top that,” said Gil, holding out a stretch of cloth. It was orange with white anchors. “Ahoy, matey!”
“I think that design fell off this fabric,” I said with a snicker, showing him one with sailboats.
We both laughed and kept pulling out different, horrible bolts of cloth to show each other.
“Whale, I’ll be,” said Gil, showing me pink and blue whales.
“This is nuts!” I held up a yellow piece dotted with brown acorns.
“Hue know what?”
“Vanessa?”
Gil and I both turned to see Katie with a shopping bag, and a frown on her face.
“Oh, hey, Katie!” I shoved the pattern I was holding back on the shelf. “What are y
ou doing here?”
“I’m picking up some more thread for one of my blouses,” she said, her frown deepening. “I thought you said you had to babysit Terrell.”
“I did! But it turns out I had my days mixed up, so I thought I’d come here and get a little more fabric. We were just goofing off.” I turned to Gil. “But now it’s time to get serious.”
He nodded curtly. “Of course.”
Katie broke into a smile. “Fun! Let me help!”
“Oh!” I said. “Um. I think I found the one I want actually.” I glanced at Gil for help.
“In your back pocket,” he said.
“Right!” I took out the piece of celestial print. “Here it is!”
Katie squealed. “Vanny, this is gorgeous! What are you going to do with it?”
“The same thing I do with all the fabric I buy,” I said, talking loudly and looking right at Gil. “Order two yards of it and tell Dee to put it in a paper bag!”
“Is something in your ear?” Katie asked me. “Why are you shouting?”
“What do you mean?” I forced a laugh. “This is how loud I always talk when I am excited about a fabric that is as good as owning five different kinds of fabric!”
I smiled up at Gil, and he smiled back. Katie continued to look at me strangely.
“If you had to buy five different fabrics that were definitely not you, which would they be, Vanessa?” asked Gil in an overly robotic voice.
“Oh, probably the yellow-and-gray argyle, the anchors, the paisley print, the acorns, and the polka dots,” I said.
Katie’s expression relaxed, and she smiled. “I know what’s going on here.” She pointed to me and Gil. “You cuties are saying adorable things to each other in some sort of weird couple’s code, aren’t you?”
I sighed and looked at Gil. “She figured it out, my corduroy sequin.”
Gil threw his hands into the air. “Zipper button needle!”
It was all I could do not to crack up.
“Don’t worry, your secret code is safe with me,” Katie said with an assuring nod. “Because I don’t understand it.”
I allowed myself a grin. “You’re the best!” I told her. “Now let’s go look at buttons! They’re like the freckles on the face of a shirt!”
I tried to make it sound superexciting, and Katie instantly caught on.
“Yeah! They’re going to make your clothes seem out of this world!” She pointed to the piece of star-sprinkled fabric.
“Ha! Good one!” I said.
Katie grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the buttons, and I glanced back at Gil, mouthing, Thank you.
You’re welcome, he mouthed back, reaching for the argyle fabric.
“So now that you don’t have to babysit, let’s have a pattern-pinning party!” said Katie. She batted her eyelashes. “Pretty please?”
I grinned at her. “I can’t. I promised Gil I’d spend time with him since you and I are about to be so busy getting ready for the fashion show.”
Not to mention I didn’t have any new designs to turn into patterns, so I was nowhere close to the pinning stage.
Katie pouted and then brightened up just as quickly. “Oh! BTW, the Lazenby’s buyer wants to meet next Tuesday.”
“What?!” I spun to face her and wound up taking out a display of ribbons with my purse.
Katie’s eyes widened and she held up her hands. “Whoa, what’s with demolition mode? All she wants to do is talk.”
“Geez.” I heaved a sigh of relief and dropped down to pick up the ribbon spools. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry,” said Katie, bending to help me. “Thank God this wasn’t a display of scissors.”
“So what does the buyer want to talk about?” I asked.
“Duh, what else? Our fashion show,” said Katie. “She wants to make sure we’re for real before she commits to coming, so I told her we’d have some pieces ready to show her.”
“By next Tuesday?” I fumbled, putting some of the ribbon back on a table.
“Yeah.” Katie gave me a strange look. “Why? You said you already have three pieces ready.”
Pieces the buyer couldn’t see.
But I took a deep breath and nodded.
I had to design, pattern, pin, cut, and sew a couple of brand-new looks in less than a week. Forget not having time for Gil; I wasn’t even going to have time for school!
“Mom, would it be okay if I took the rest of the week off from school?” I asked when she picked me and Gil up that afternoon.
Mom laughed. “Oh sure. While we’re at it, I’ll throw in a two hundred percent increase on your allowance.”
I stared at her until her eyebrows went up.
“Wait, you’re serious? Vanessa, what could you possibly need the week off for? You have nights and weekends free, and you got back from winter break not too long ago.”
I leaned back in the passenger’s seat. “I know, but I’m so swamped with the fashion show and the Advice Column Killer.”
Mom swerved the car a little as she glanced at me. Thankfully, all three of us were wearing our seat belts.
“Advice Column what?”
“It’s not what it sounds like,” Gil spoke up from the back. “The killer is after the column, not the people who write it.”
Mom didn’t look calmed by this answer.
“Mom. There’s no real killer,” I said. “It’s a figure of speech.”
She parked the car along a curb and twisted in her seat to face me. “Vanessa Fay Jackson.”
“I swear, it’s not a real killer!” I grabbed Mom’s hand. “It’s just the name Mary Patrick came up with for this kid who’s trying to expose people who write in to the advice column for help.”
Mom’s forehead refused to smoothe out. “Where does the killer come in?”
“Nobody’s sending in letters to the advice column anymore,” I explained. “So the advice column is slowly being killed.”
Mom collapsed back into her seat and closed her eyes. “You kids need to seriously come up with a better name than Advice Column Killer or it’ll become the Heart Attack Maker.”
“Brooke came up with the Phantom Dirt Digger, but everyone liked the other option better,” I said.
“Does everyone include parents?” asked Mom, pulling back onto the road. “Also, if nobody’s writing in to the advice column, doesn’t that give you more free time?”
“Not when I’m spending it trying to track this kid down.”
“Well, we did make a little progress today,” Gil reminded me. “We started putting up Wanted posters.”
Mom shook her head. “I didn’t realize we were back in the Wild West. I hope this isn’t a dead-or-alive situation.”
“Well, Mary Patrick was fine with either,” said Gil. “But she had a feeling the principal wouldn’t agree.”
Mom chuckled. “That sounds like Mary Patrick. Well, I’m sorry you feel buried, Vanessa, but this is part of life. You need to learn to balance your responsibilities, and I know you are fully capable of managing school, the paper, and this fashion show.”
“But Katie really complicated things today,” I complained. “Now I have to work even harder and faster.”
I must have caught Mom on an unsympathetic day. She simply shrugged and said, “You committed to this, V. You need to see it through.”
Gil gave me an apologetic smile and hug as Mom stopped the car in front of his house.
“Give me a call if you need any help,” he told me.
After we dropped him off, Mom and I traveled in silence for a bit before I spoke up again. “Can I at least have dinner in my room so I can get some work done?”
Mom regarded me for a moment and smirked. “And I suppose you want to get out of doing the dishes, too.”
“If you’re offering,” I said with my sweetest, most pleading smile.
“I’d better get at least one design named after me,” she said. She held up a finger. “And I am not talking about ‘mom
jeans.’”
I giggled. “It’s a deal.”
Later, Terrell barely cared that I was carrying a tray of food to my room, because Mom gave him permission to eat in front of the TV. I, meanwhile, wolfed down my dinner and turned my attention to the new fabrics laid out on the floor in front of me.
“What am I going to do with you?” I asked them. Off-the-shoulder numbers were clearly out of the picture. So were crop tops and anything strapless that I didn’t plan to cover up with something else. That would take even more time, which I didn’t have. While I tried to decide, I changed into my own clothes so I could at least feel comfortable doing something I was going to despise.
I held up the shirt Heather had loaned me and studied it. What I needed to design was something like the shirt.
Or maybe something exactly like the shirt.
Could I do that? Take an existing Lazenby’s shirt and duplicate it? I didn’t have a lot of options with my limited amount of time. Plus, I still planned to show the buyer my lookbook so she’d see what I was capable of. And I’d be putting in all the labor and materials myself.
I turned the shirt inside out and placed it on the floor so I could see where the stitches met. If I traced around the edges, I’d have my pattern right there! Granted, it wouldn’t be a new design, but it would be a Lazenby’s approved design, and wasn’t that really all that mattered at this point?
Now that I had a plan, I was excited to get to work!
I placed the inside-out shirt on a length of the yellow-and-gray argyle fabric and held it taut with my knees while I used a sewing pencil to make the pattern.
Done in less than five minutes.
When I had the lines fairly even, I cut out the length of fabric.
Done in less than two minutes.
I repeated the process until I had two separate pieces for the front part of the shirt. I used pins to piece the whole shirt together and see what it would look like once I’d run it through the sewing machine. It was simple, but it looked almost exactly like Heather’s shirt.
And the best part? It had only taken me about thirty minutes to go from the design stage to the showing stage. All I needed now was to get the measurements of my models.
Confidentially Yours #6 Page 6