Design Disaster Read online

  I roll over to look at my alarm clock and see that early isn’t quite accurate. It’s already eleven o’clock! Whoa. I can’t remember the last time I slept so late! As I stretch my legs over the side of the bed and debate whether I should join the waking world, someone knocks on the bedroom door.

  “You awake, Chloe?” my suitemate Bailey calls.

  “Barely,” I say, “but you can come in.”

  Bailey opens the door a crack and squeezes in, closing it behind her. “There’s a cuuuute boy asking for you,” she says, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows. “Says his name is Jake.”

  My heart skips a beat. I met Jake McKay, Liesel’s son, back when I was auditioning for Teen Design Diva. And Bailey is right — he is cuuuute. I thought I’d be seeing him a lot more once I started my internship and we were both in New York, but it’s been almost two weeks since we hung out at the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! museum.

  “Great!” I say, my cheeks reddening. “Can you please tell him I’ll be out in ten minutes?”

  “You got it,” Bailey agrees. “But I want to know more about him!”

  After Bailey leaves, I slip into a sundress and sandals and check my face in the mirror. Ugh. All those early mornings have made my eyes tired and my skin pale. Thankfully, a layer of moisturizer, a few dabs of concealer, and some bronzer do the trick. Totally ready, and it doesn’t look like I just rolled out of bed at all!

  “Hey!” says Jake as soon as I step into the common room. Before I can say anything back, he lifts me up and gives me a hug.

  Bailey and Avery giggle, and Madison’s jaw falls so low it looks like it’s going to scrape the floor.

  “Hey, yourself,” I say, blushing. I love Jake’s hugs, but it’s a little embarrassing in front of my roommates. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “Glad you think so,” Jake says with a smile. “I figured you’ve been so busy, I might have a better chance with the element of surprise. Are you free today?”

  “Definitely,” I agree.

  Jake takes my hand and starts to head out. “Nice meeting you all!” he calls back behind him.

  “Have fun!” Bailey hollers, giving me a wink.

  When we’re safely outside the room, Jake says, “Sorry about that. I’m just excited to see you!”

  “It’s okay. I’m happy to see you too. It’s been kind of a rough week,” I say.

  Jake squeezes my hand as we head into the sunshine. “Yeah, my mom said something like that, but she didn’t give me deets.”

  I fill him in, and when I’m done, Jake looks sympathetic. “Yeah, that’s rough,” he agrees. “But it sounds like you totally stepped up to the plate and hit it out of the park with yesterday’s designs.”

  I laugh. “Nice baseball metaphors.”

  We stop at a kiosk and Jake buys us coffee and egg sandwiches. “So, what do you want to do today now that I’ve managed to steal you away?” he asks.

  “Want to go to the Met?” I suggest. “I’ve been dying to see their dress exhibit. I think it will inspire me.”

  “Sure,” Jake agrees. “But after the dresses, you have to promise we’ll hit their sword and armor collections.”

  I wrinkle my nose, picturing case after case of daggers and knightly gear, but a deal’s a deal. “I promise,” I say. But privately I think, But no one said the time spent looking at dresses and armor had to be equal …

  * * *

  Jake is a good sport as we move from one dress design to another. I’ve always been into fashion, but the stuff at the Met is totally blowing my mind. We pause at Rudi Gernreich’s Kabuki dress. I love the way he combined styles here, blending the kimono with geometric patterns. The belt rests below the bust instead of at the waist, resembling an empire-line dress.

  “He’s fantastic,” I say. “I love that he didn’t play it safe. At the time, his ideas were thought to be scandalous. He broke so many barriers.”

  Jake eyes the dress. “I remember reading about him too. I really respect designers who don’t play by the rules.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I bet your designs will be rebellious.”

  I smile. “I can see it now. Chloe Montgomery — Renegade of Style.”

  Jake grins. “Exactly.”

  I laugh but secretly I hope that’s true. I don’t want to be the one who follows the trends. One day, I want to design the trends others copy.

  We view more of Gernreich’s work, including the black wool minidress with half-moons all over it. My eyes tire looking at the dizzying pattern, but they’re refocused by the red ribbons on the sleeves.

  “A style like this might work for Laura’s knit line,” I say. Stefan seems like a progressive designer who’d go for something unique.

  We move on to the evening dresses, and I stop beside a display of art deco-inspired creations. A soft pink dress with a scalloped, beaded skirt and delicate embroidery catches my eye. The pattern is a little busier than what Taylor had in mind, but the scalloped pattern gets my brain working. It could be gorgeous on a dress she’s designing. Or maybe even a scalloped pattern on a jacket! It’s a little out there, but it could work.

  Jake drags behind me, and his eyes glaze over. I could look at these dresses for hours, but I know he’s probably had his fill.

  I link my arm through his. “Swords?” I ask.

  His eyes light up. “You’re sure you’re done?” he asks politely.

  “Not really,” I tease. I feel bad when his face immediately falls. “Just kidding,” I add quickly.

  Jake’s smile takes over his entire face, and he practically skips to the sword exhibit. I take one last look at the designs around me. After this outing, I’ll have even more ideas for Taylor come Monday morning.

  On Monday, I wake up raring to go. Saturday put me in a fab mood. Not only did I get to see Jake, but there’s something to be said about strolling around New York at my own pace. No errands or missions — just me enjoying what the city has to offer.

  I hear Bailey, Avery, and Madison in the common room and head out to join them for breakfast. I’ve been trying so hard to make a good impression at work that I’ve been getting there early every day. Usually my suitemates are still sleeping when I leave, so this is a change.

  “Pull up a chair,” Avery says when I emerge from my room. I take a seat, and she hands me a bowl.

  “I should take a picture of this momentous occasion,” Bailey jokes. “I think this is the first time all four of us have been on the same morning schedule.”

  “Join the fun,” says Madison, passing me the cereal box and milk. She manages to do it without looking at me, but at least she’s acknowledging me.

  Bailey and Avery exchange secret smiles, then look at me expectantly. I know they’re dying to hear about Jake, but I don’t know if I want to go there yet. Especially with Madison. I wish my best friend, Alex, was here. Texting with her is so not the same as real, one-on-one girl talk.

  “OMG,” Bailey finally says, “I’m going to have to pull it out of you, aren’t I?”

  I eat a spoonful of cereal and pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about. “What do you mean?” I ask innocently.

  Avery laughs and rolls her eyes. “The boy from the other day — Jake. How long have you been together? What’s his story?”

  I stall. Together? Jake and I have been hanging out, but is he my boyfriend? We have fun when we get together, but what will happen when I go back to California in September and he’s on the other side of the country in New York City? Ugh. So many things I didn’t even stop to think about.

  “Um,” I begin, “he’s great! I like his mom too. Liesel McKay?”

  Madison breaks her icy facade and stares at me. “Liesel McKay? No way! I love her stuff! Did she, like, introduce you guys when she mentored you on Teen Design Diva?”

  “No. We actually met at an art fair
back in California,” I explain. “I had no idea who his mom was at the time. When I found out, I almost died.”

  Bailey and Avery laugh. “I bet!” says Bailey.

  Madison taps her purple fingernails on the table. “And then she just happened to be your mentor? I’m sure that wasn’t rigged at all.” She snorts.

  I sigh. Re-enter the same old Madison. I knew that nice moment was too good to be true. “Well, on that note, I should probably get going,” I say. “See you guys later.”

  “Don’t go!” pleads Avery. “We didn’t finish hearing about your boy!”

  “Another time,” I promise. “I’m sure Taylor has a list of things for me today. The sooner I get started, the better.”

  As I walk out the door, I hear Avery say, “Madison, why do you have to be so mean?”

  “I’m just saying it like it is,” says Madison. “It’s not my fault Chloe is too sensitive.”

  Bailey starts to reply, but I close the door. I’m starting to get used to Madison’s digs. She reminds me a lot of my back-home rival, Nina LeFleur. And like my mom has told me before, there’s always going to be a Nina somewhere.

  What nags at me more is Avery’s “your boy” comment. Jake isn’t mine. And while an hour ago I was happy just hanging with him when we could, now I’m wondering if I want more.

  * * *

  It’s not even nine o’clock when I step off the elevators onto the fifth floor, but Taylor is already lurking by my desk. When she sees me, she glances at her watch, then at the clock on the wall, and frowns.

  “I was hoping I’d see you earlier today since it’s been days, but what can you do, right?” Taylor says.

  I take a deep breath. This must be the side of Taylor that Madison got to see a lot. There’s no point in saying I’m not supposed to start until nine or that I came in extra early and stayed late last week. I can tell Taylor doesn’t want to hear any of that.

  Instead, I plaster on a smile. “I’m eager to get started. What’s on the agenda today?”

  “Well, uh,” Taylor says, clearly taken aback by my no-arguing stance. “I have some gorgeous sketches, and I’d like you to make prototypes of them. They have your embellishment and beading ideas incorporated, and I want to see how they look.” She puts a portfolio of sketches on my desk and walks back to her office. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.” With that, the door starts to close.

  I quickly look around and realize that I don’t see fabric, thread, or the boards Taylor wants me to pin things to. “Wait!”

  “Yes?” Taylor says in a clipped, frosty tone. She’s clearly not happy, but I’m not making the same mistake I made with Laura. I’m doing everything right the first time.

  “How should I make the prototypes, and where are the boards?” I ask, keeping my voice cordial.

  “What do you mean, where —” Taylor stops and looks around, then mutters something under her breath before marching into her office. She’s back almost immediately, wheeling a cart with boards and materials.

  “Sorry,” Taylor says, still sounding a bit irritated. “Sometimes people don’t leave things where they’re supposed to. Oh, and I forgot to mention, but we had a lot of fabric scraps lying around, so for these prototypes you’ll get to work with the real thing. Enjoy.”

  Nice! I glance at the cart to make sure it has everything I need. “Thanks,” I say, but Taylor has already disappeared into her office and closed the door.

  With Taylor and her attitude gone, I dive into the sketches and photos. It takes more than an hour to sort through everything, but I take my time and make notes. Then, I search through the bins and drawers on the cart, pulling out beads, bits of fabric, a needle, and thread.

  I’ve sewn my own clothes for years using a machine, and thanks to Teen Design Diva, where we often had to hand sew, I’ve become even more of an expert at putting things together. At least for prototypes, the stitching doesn’t have to be elegant or precise. It’s more important to see how the fabric and designs go together. By looking at the prototypes, designers can get a feel for what the garment is supposed to look like. Sometimes, colors or fabrics seem like they’ll be a good fit, but it’s not until you see them actually sewn together that you get a real understanding of how the design will look.

  I take out a silk charmeuse fabric in beige and cut a square neckline, then stitch something resembling cap sleeves. For the final touch, I decide to give Taylor options. I sort the beads in front of me. In one prototype, I sew beading to cover the bust area. In another, I make the entire gown fully beaded.

  The next sketch is of a gown in silver chiffon. I pull the fabric from a drawer and lay it on my desk. I rub the soft cloth between my fingers. Wearing this fabric is practically guaranteed to make anyone feel beautiful. I check the sketch and pin back pieces to create a plunging neckline with thin shoulder straps and an open back. Then I outline the fabric for the bias cut and empire waist. The crystal embroidery, perfect for an art deco garment, makes the material shimmer and pulls the design together. I touch the delicate beading and imagine the dress on the runway. If only I could model it.

  I work on more pieces as time passes and am grateful Taylor hasn’t checked in. Being left alone with the fabric is peaceful. It’s fascinating to me that one motif, art deco, can spawn so many different visions.

  I flip through more pages and stop at a bright pink flapper-style dress in silk. The shift style hangs simply to mid-thigh, but the delicate design is accented with skinny spaghetti straps, while a feathered skirt adds femininity. I’m not normally a fan of feathers, but this dress looks adorable.

  My stomach grumbles, and I check the wall clock. Almost one o’clock! Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that it’s past lunch and Taylor has yet to make an appearance. I think of sneaking away for a bagel or something, but I just know that’s the moment Taylor will decide to show herself.

  Note to self, I think, bring snacks to work. I bargain with myself. One more prototype, then knock on Taylor’s door.

  I scope out some additional designs and get another brainstorm. Taylor didn’t ask me to do accessories, but one of the dresses gives me the best idea for an art deco-inspired evening bag. If I get that done and a dress, that should definitely ease her grumpiness.

  First things first: stay on task. I work on a sketch of a body-hugging top and free-flowing skirt. The bodice is strapless with shimmering geometric lines and metallic threading, while the white silk skirt is long and loose, flowing down past the ankles. The look is complete with a sheer headscarf, embroidered with pearls.

  I pin the minidress to the mood board and stretch my shoulders. Still no sign of Taylor. That gives me time to design the bag. I draw the silver chain first, taking care with each tiny oval. Then I sketch the clam-shaped bag. I envision the bag covered in white tile beads that shimmer under the light.

  When I’m finished sketching, I get out of my chair and step back to admire my work. It’s been a long morning, but I’m really pleased with the designs and the progress I made. My head is starting to hurt, though, so I knock on Taylor’s door.

  Taylor opens it, looking frazzled. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve done a lot of prototypes and wanted you to take a look,” I reply.

  Taylor blinks. “You’ve been working this whole time? But it’s past two o’clock! You have to make sure you take lunch breaks. Especially since you’re a minor.” She looks worried.

  I stare at her. Didn’t she say she was going to check on me? Was I allowed to take a break?

  Taylor moves past me and looks at my work. “These look exquisite,” she says after a few minutes. “I can only imagine how stunning the finished products will be.” She picks up my drawing of the evening bag. “You did this too?”

  I nod.

  “Very nice, Chloe. I’ll send it over to handbags. I think they can do a lot with this design.”


  “Thank you so much,” I say. I try to smile, despite my pounding headache.

  “I’m sorry I forgot to touch base,” Taylor says. “Take a long lunch. I don’t need to be showcased on one of those blogs about horrible bosses.”

  I laugh. “Your rep is safe with me.”

  Taylor smiles. “Thanks for all your hard work, Chloe. I mean it. It’s been such a pleasure working with you. I don’t ever get sentimental about interns, but I’m actually sad you’ll be leaving when the summer is over.”

  “Thank you for letting me be so involved in the process,” I say. “So, what’s next for the line?”

  “Tomorrow will be similar to today, so don’t forget to stock up on bagels and snacks in case you have to take a late lunch,” Taylor advises. “Then we’ll be working with Liesel McKay to finish the new additions. Oh, but I guess you won’t be here then. That’s next week, so you’ll be on to your next rotation.”

  I’m curious which department I’ll be in next week, but I’m disappointed I won’t get to collaborate with Liesel. “Bummer. I was hoping to work with Liesel.”

  Taylor winks. “Just one perk of being a head designer,” she says. Then she glances at the clock. “You really need to eat. Seriously.” She goes back to her office but stops at the door. “The next two days are probably going to be crazy busy. So if I don’t get to give you a proper goodbye, I’m saying it now.”

  “Thanks,” I say, smiling. I might be starving, but I’m feeling so happy about Taylor’s words of encouragement that it helps quiet my stomach’s protests. Pleasing her seemed like no easy feat, and yet I managed to do just that!

  Taylor wasn’t kidding about the next few days being crazy busy. I usually make it to lunch by one o’clock, but I remember to keep bagels and snacks at the ready in case I get hungry earlier.

  I’m hoping for a bit of a reprieve when I arrive at Laura’s office Thursday morning, but as soon as I see her, I can tell it will be another busy day.