Intern Ambition

  Measure twice, cut once or you won't make the cut.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dear Diary

  1

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  8

  9

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  13

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Copyright

  Back Cover

  Dear Diary,

  I can hardly believe it — I’m back in New York City! I had a quick break back home in Santa Cruz after the Teen Design Diva competition ended a few weeks ago, but now I’m back. Being home was fantastic. I got to spend time with my best friend, Alex, and relax with my family. And I didn’t have to worry about my private moments ending up on camera for a change.

  But if I thought it would be totally quiet, boy, was I wrong! A ton of newspapers and TV stations wanted to interview me. Being treated like a local celebrity was exciting, but it also made me a little uncomfortable. Even after my stint on reality TV, I’m still not totally a “look at me!” kind of girl. If it weren’t for Alex encouraging me to be proud of everything I’ve accomplished, I might not have had the guts to do the interviews! In fact, if it weren’t for Alex, I probably wouldn’t have even auditioned for Teen Design Diva in the first place. Believe me, I know how lucky I am to have such a great friend.

  Which brings me back to New York — and my internship! Starting tomorrow, I’ll be working for Stefan Meyers, one of my absolute favorite designers. His style is clean, fun, and chic — exactly what I aim for with my own designs. Working for him will be amazing, but if you want to know the truth, I’m also crazy nervous. I just hope the other interns are more like Derek, one of the nicest designers from Teen Design Diva, than Nina, my number-one rival from back home. If they’re anything like Nina, I’m in trouble. Let’s just say she and I do not get along — not on the show and not in real life.

  Ugh. Back to being positive. I’m writing this from my dorm room at FIT — yes, the Fashion Institute of Technology! Pretty cool, huh? It’s going to be my home for the next two months. I haven’t met my suitemates yet, but the producers from Teen Design Diva told me they’re all interns in the city too.

  I don’t know what to expect from the next two months, but I’m sure it’s going to be amazing! I even got special permission from my high school to miss the first two weeks of school so I can help out with Fashion Week. I’ll have to write a ten-page paper about my experience here, but it’s totally worth it. There’s so much to look forward to!

  Oh! And speaking of things I’m looking forward t … I can’t forget about Jake McKay. He’s here in New York and studying fashion marketing at Parsons, my dream school. Having both him and his mom, Liesel, my former mentor, here in the city with me will make this experience that much better. Aw, Jake just texted me wishing me luck on my first day. He’s so sweet. And super cute. Just saying…

  It’s getting late, but I’m too hyped up to sleep. I’ll try counting outfits and see if that helps.

  Xoxo — Chloe

  It’s only seven a.m., and I still have an hour before my alarm is set to go off, but I can’t fall back asleep. All I want to do is get to Stefan Meyers’s office. How many times have I drooled over fashion magazines that showcased clothes from his SM label? How many times have I imagined my own initials intertwined the same way? I wonder what my first day will be like. Will I get to meet Stefan, or will he be like the mysterious wizard from Oz who hides behind a curtain?

  My mind is on fast-forward as I jump out of bed. Last night I laid out the perfect first-day outfit so I’d be ready to go. Straight from my favorite Santa Cruz store, Mimi’s Thrifty Threads, it’s not only adorable but makes me think of home. I would have preferred to wear my own designs, but there wasn’t enough time to design a whole new wardrobe before I left for New York. Mimi knows my style, and her clothes are the next best thing. Today’s pick is a black sheath dress paired with red slingbacks. The shoes are a subtle accent, but Design Diva taught me that a pop of color can go a long way. I check my reflection in the mirror, stuff my sketchpad into my bag, and head out to the busy streets of NYC.

  In Santa Cruz the streets are dead at this time. But New York City is a different world. Here, there are hundreds of people getting ready to start their day. Some are yelling for taxis, while others are enjoying the walk to their offices. During the Teen Design Diva competition, I felt like I was a part of the city but not in the same way. Back then, I was always rushing from one task to the next. Now, I blend in.

  I stop at Starbucks and order a coffee. I have plenty of time before I’m supposed to report for my first day and decide to text Alex while I wait.

  “Guess who’s a working girl waiting for her morning cup of joe?” I write.

  A few minutes later my phone buzzes. “Guess who wishes her phone didn’t wake her up at this crazy hour?” Alex writes back with a wink face.

  Oops. I forgot about the time difference between New York and California — it’s not even five a.m. there. “Sorry!” I text back.

  “No worries. Good luck on your first day! Tell me everything!” Alex writes as I get my latte.

  I still have an hour to kill before I have to be at Stefan Meyers — I don’t start work until nine — so I sit on a leather couch in the corner and take out my sketchpad. I spot a girl wearing a pleated maxi skirt and start sketching. First I draw the details of her outfit, then add her long, loose side braid and armful of bangles. She barks her order for a tall, skim macchiato, and I shade in the loose piece of fabric holding her braid together.

  The girl suddenly glances my way, and I tuck my sketchpad back in my bag. It’s almost eight-thirty anyway, so I head down the street to the building that houses the Stefan Meyers studio and offices. From the outside, it’s not clear that designing happens here. I walk into the marble lobby, and the security guard at the front desk smiles at me.

  “Can I help you?” he says.

  “Um, I’m working at Stefan Meyers?” My voice goes up an octave at the end, like I’m not sure I belong.

  If Mr. Security notices, though, he doesn’t let on. “Name?” he asks.

  “Chloe Montgomery?” My voice goes up again, like I’m asking a question. Knock it off, I think. You know your name!

  “Ms. Montgomery, do you know which department you’re working in today?” the security guard asks.

  My mind goes blank. I had a paper with all the info, and I think I left it in my room. Great start to my first day!

  “She’s with me, Ken,” a voice says behind me.

  I spin around and see a woman in her thirties watching me. She’s wearing a white blouse and slim pencil skirt paired with strappy black sandals. Her blouse is wrinkled, and the skirt has a fresh coffee stain. Her black bag is hanging off one shoulder, and the lid on her coffee cup is almost off.

  “Thanks, Laura,” says Mr. Security — a.k.a. Ken. He gives me a badge. “Bring this with you every day, Chloe.”

  “Got it,” I say as I follow Laura to the elevator.

  “As you can see,” Laura says when the doors close, “I desperately need an intern and am ecstatic you’re here.” Coffee spills from her cup onto the floor, and she rolls her eyes. “Not even nine, and it’s already one of those days. I’m Laura Carmichael, by the way.”

  “Chloe Montgomery,” I manage.

  “Oh!” Laura exclaims, her eyes going wide. “When they told me your name, I knew it sounded familiar, and now that I see you … yes! You’re her! I’m sure they told me. My brain, though.” She shrugs. “Wait, you are her, right? The Design Diva girl?”

  I laugh. Other than being frazzled, Laura seems like she’ll be easy to get along with. “Yep, that’s me.”

  I watch the buttons in the elevator light up as we climb to Stefan Meyers’s headquarters. I imagine plush, red carpeting and a maze of clothes for me to navigate. Designer jeans, dresses, and tops, all complete with the Stefan Meyers logo.

  “Well, I hope you’re ready to work, Chloe,” Laura says as the seven at the top of the elevator lights up.

  My heart beats quickly. “I’m psyched to help any way I can,” I say.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” Laura replies. And with that, the elevator lurches to a stop, and the doors finally open.

  “Follow me,” Laura says as we step out of the elevator and onto speckled gray carpet.

  My heart sinks as imagination meets reality. Instead of rows of clothing and hustling designers, there’s silence and drab carpeting. I follow Laura through the rows of cubicles and notice some people’s eyes lighting up with recognition as I pass. I strain my neck to see what everyone is working on, but Laura is already walking into one of the nearby offices. Maybe that’s where the magic happens.

  I follow Laura into her office, and my mouth drops open when I see the mess inside. Design samples, fabric, and paperwork blanket her desk.

  Laura laughs nervously. “Didn’t I say I needed you?” she asks. “Fashion Week is less than two months away, and it’s going to be completely chaotic until then.”

  As soon as Laura mentions Fashion Week, I perk up. I’ve followed Fashion Week forever. But I’d heard so many stories of interns just being asked to get coffee that I didn’t want to get
my hopes up about actually being involved in it.

  Laura must mistake my silence for hesitation because she quickly says, “It won’t be that bad, and I know this is all new to you. It can be overwhelming. But I’ll walk you through everything —”

  “I’m not overwhelmed!” I say quickly. “Just excited. The more involvement, the better.”

  Laura laughs at my enthusiasm. “Girl, you’re going to wish you’d never said that.”

  Regret wanting to be involved in Fashion Week? No way. Not possible. The worst day in the design world is still the best day ever.

  “Now that I’ve had a chance to drop off my stuff, let me show you around the floor,” Laura says, walking back out of her office. I trail after her.

  “Stefan’s line covers a wide range, but his main focus for the spring line is knits, denims, and dresses,” Laura explains as we walk. “Stefan is the lead designer, meaning he’s the one who comes up with the vision for the pieces. I’m the head designer for knits and denims, so he consults with me frequently. Stefan will describe what he wants, and I’ll often create a sketch to match. He also does many of the sketches himself.”

  Laura points to a large board with different-colored fabric pinned to it. “Stefan also chooses the material, and I create prototypes of the outfits. Like these.”

  I lean in to take a closer look and nod in understanding. “This is to show what the outfit will look like before it’s made, right?” I say.

  “Exactly. We use fabrics with a similar feel to the final product, but they’re cheaper. Stefan looks at the prototypes, makes the required changes, and gives the final okay to move forward to the sample,” says Laura.

  “What do you mean by sample?” I ask.

  “Good question,” Laura replies with a smile. “That’s the final product of the outfit. Stefan uses the samples in fashion shows, like Fashion Week. He also presents it to buyers to show them what the label will be selling.”

  All around me, I see designers hard at work. Some are focused on pinning prototypes, while others are sorting scraps of fabric. I notice one woman sketching hems. “What’s everyone’s role here?” I ask.

  “These are the junior designers,” says Laura. “Sometimes they assist in a design element, but usually they’re responsible for the finishing touches on a product. Embellishments, hems, stuff like that.”

  “When I thought of Stefan Meyers, I sort of pictured him creating everything on his own,” I admit.

  Laura smiles. “When I started here five years ago, I thought so too, but we all work together. Having the opportunity to collaborate with Stefan is one of the best things about a smaller label.”

  Laura points to a pair of designers pinning a pleated skirt on a mannequin. “That’s one of the items for the spring line Stefan is going to showcase during Fashion Week. They’re all trying to make sure the fit meets our original vision. Stefan will take a closer look after our weekly department meeting today.”

  “Stefan is coming here today?” I ask.

  Laura slaps her palm to her forehead. “Sorry. I should have mentioned that. Yes, Stefan will be visiting all the departments separately today. Our meeting is at two o’clock. Next Wednesday, he’s having a meeting with all the departments together.”

  “So I’ll get to meet him?” I ask excitedly.

  “Well, I’m not sure about that, but you’ll be at the meeting taking notes,” Laura says.

  Sitting in at an actual design meeting? So cool!

  Laura shows me more boards and designers adding finishing touches to garments. As more designers trickle in, it gets busier. It’s finally starting to resemble what I pictured. After a while, Laura checks her watch. “Let’s head back to my office. I have a big job for you before Stefan comes,” she says.

  I follow Laura back to her disaster of an office. I know my room back home gets messy, but this is on another level. It’s hard to tear my eyes away from her apocalypse of a desk.

  “Unfortunately,” Laura says, following my gaze, “that’s not the project. The fashion closet is an even bigger disaster. It needs to be organized so I know if it holds anything useful for the designs I’m currently working on. You up for the task?”

  She doesn’t wait for my reply and leads me down the hall. “Don’t be scared, okay?” she says, pushing open a door.

  I laugh, but stop the second I see what’s on the other side of the door. The fashion closet is the size of a small bedroom, and there are piles of clothes everywhere. All adorned with the Stefan Meyers logo.

  “I need you to sort the clothes by type,” Laura explains. “Dresses in one section, tops in another, pants in a third, and so forth. It will probably take a few hours.”

  A few hours? A few days? Either way, it doesn’t scare me. If Laura weren’t watching, I’d dive headfirst into the pile. This closet is exactly how I envisioned my internship. Let the sorting begin!

  Two hours later, I’m still sorting. It’s almost impossible to see the results, but the mountains of clothes don’t bother me. Not when my fingers constantly brush pure silk and soft velvet. I spot a beige lace skirt I saw in Fashion Weekly and hang it near the other skirts I’ve already unearthed. The sheer blouse beside it joins a ruffled, cream-colored tank on the hanging rack of tops.

  Just then, Laura reappears. “You got a lot done!” she says, sounding impressed as she makes her way into the closet.

  I laugh. “How can you tell?”

  “Trust me,” she says. “At least there’s a walking path now.” Laura glances at her iPhone. “Our meeting with Stefan is in two hours. I think you’ll be almost done by then. Keep going. You’re doing great!”

  Laura heads back to her office, and my heart sinks. Two more hours of sorting is the best-case scenario. I lean against the wall, just becoming aware of a dull ache in the small of my back. Who knew organizing clothes could be so exhausting? I take a picture of the mess at my feet. “Clothing avalanche,” I text to Jake before diving back into the piles.

  An angora sweater tickles my nose. Sore back or not, this is still awesome. I add the sweater to a row of similar ones toward the back of the closet and move on to a pile of dresses. Just then my phone buzzes.

  “Agh! Hurry and take cover!” Jake texts. “You’ll be buried alive!”

  I start to text him back, but Laura bursts in. “The meeting was moved up! We have to go now!” she says, thrusting a notebook into my hands and rushing back out the door.

  I hurry after her. I can’t believe I get to attend a design meeting on my first day! I have so many questions: What will it be like? What will they discuss? Will I even recognize Stefan? The last question makes me panic. For everything I’ve heard about the label, I realize I have no clue what the man looks like!

  “Laura —” I start to say.

  “Here we are,” she interrupts, not giving me a chance to finish.

  Here is a conference room with a large rectangular table and twenty people seated around it. All of them are dressed in black — from head to toe. I take a seat beside Laura, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my red slingbacks.

  “Nice shoes,” says a girl next to me. She looks like she’s about my age. “Love the red.”

  “Thanks!” I smile, feeling silly about my lack of confidence. I wonder if she’s an intern too.

  Just then, the room goes silent as a man in a white shirt and gray slacks enters. This has to be Stefan Meyers! His black hair is slicked back, and I can see his brown eyes through his wire-rimmed glasses. Despite wrinkles around his mouth and on his forehead, he looks young.

  “I know we have several new interns starting today, so for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Stefan Meyers,” he says. Around the room, I see a few people sit up straighter. They don’t look much older than me, so I assume they’re interns too. Stefan continues, “Unfortunately, there’s no time to go around and introduce yourselves right now, but please feel free to say hello after the meeting.”

  I make a mental note to work up the guts to go talk to him later.

  “Very well, then,” he continues. “As I’m sure everyone knows, Fashion Week is less than two months away. That’s what we’ll be eating, breathing, and sleeping until then. The items we’ll be showcasing are completed or close to it. However, I did want to add two more design elements to the mix. It’s crunch time, so I hope you read my latest e-mail with all the information.”