After the crowds died down, it was finally time to show Shar my proposal. The three of us stood around the counter, and I pulled out my sketchbook and handwritten notes.
“Wow, this is impressive,” Shar said, flipping through my sketchbook to look at the five detailed mock-ups I’d made. “You’re so professional. I don’t think you’ll have a problem getting into that school of yours.”
I smiled. The positive reinforcement kept my nerves tamped down as I went through my proposal. Gia had seen most of it this morning, so she jumped in here and there, but this project wasmybaby. I couldn’t wait to see it come to life this summer.
I went through it all—the sketches of the inside of the store, the new logo, the sketch of the exterior, and some sample products from Shar’s wholesalers that fit the store’s new vibe. I’d even sourced some new suppliers with similar price points but more on-trend stuff. After showing Shar the last sketch—the one of the back wall with the new logo and geometric wallpaper—I stilled, biting my lip. My aunt had been awfully quiet as I was talking. I was scared all of a sudden—she did like the proposal, right?
Finally, she spoke. “Wow, Tahira. This is impressive. Really. You did all this since yesterday?”
“Yeah, while we were here and then last night.”
Shar shook her head. “You’re a remarkable girl. Truly. But...I think you may have bitten off more than we can chew. I appreciate your vision, but this is too much.”
I blinked. “Too much?”
She put her hand over mine. “I think this plan is too ambitious for my little store. New sign, new fixtures, turning over all the stock...it’s more than I’d planned. And the cost! This is Bakewell, not Yorkville Avenue in Toronto. We have a more mature clientele who, for the mostpart, like the store as it is. I was thinking more a freshen-up, not an entire redo.”
She didn’t like it.
I closed my eyes and took a breath. I’d been rejected before. Loads of times. I didn’t get the job in the denim section at that luxury department store. Someone else’s design was picked for the finale of the school fashion show last year. Other than Nilusha, no designer had even called me for an interview for a summer job. Plus, #IndieFashionWeekly rejected me every Sunday. This shouldn’t have hurt so much.
I wasn’t cut out for this career.
My heart was beating heavy in my chest. I wasn’tsupposedto get rejected here. Shar was myaunt. This was Bakewell. This was supposed to be the easy way to get the experience I’d lost when that damn parakeet ruined my life. But I had still failed.
If I couldn’t even do this, why did I think I could handle FIT? Or the fashion world?
Gia gave Shar a pleading look. “But you could be sooo cool! You could attract younger customers!”
“The older crowd is my bread and butter, and I can’t afford to make them feel uncomfortable,” Shar said.
“But why can’t younger people be the store’s bread and butter? The Toronto boutique I used to work at managed to make a killing with younger customers,” I said.
“There aren’t a lot of younger people around here. They certainly don’t spend enough to make all this worthwhile.”
“What about just changing the name?” Gia offered.
I looked down at my sketch. What was the point of using the cool, minimalistic name and logo if the store was the same old country-clothing store?
Shar shook her head. “Maybe in the future, but not this year.” She reached over to the edge of the counter. “Changing the logo now would cost a fortune in marketing.” She put a glossy sheet on my opensketchbook. It was a flyer for the Bakewell Festival of Flowers. “We’re a sponsor for the festival, and most of the promos are already printed.”
Yup. The damn oval with flowers and the name “Lilybuds” was printed on the flyer, along with McLaughlin’s Hardware (Addison’s family?) and the Book Nook.
“That bites,” Gia said, hunching her shoulders and resting her elbows on the counter. “This could have been awesome. Tahira is talented.”
Shar smiled with encouragement. “She’ssotalented. I’m in awe. Let’s have a compromise, shall we? How about we bring in a few of these pieces?” She pulled out my list of products. “We can set up a little corner—maybe five feet or so on the back wall. A younger line within the store. You could even call it your name—Lilies.”
“Just Lily, with a period,” I said, voice shaking. A small corner of a store with mass-produced wholesale clothes was nothing impressive. This wasn’t getting me into FIT.
Shar continued flipping through the pages in the sketchbook. “I think we can work with a lot of your ideas. Fresh white walls and less clutter would make a big impact. How about this—come back to me with a scaled-down design plan with no new fixtures or major construction. Include a small new section with some of these trendier pieces. We can still do amazing work here, just on a smaller scale.” She tapped the sketch of the back wall. “This is impressive. Really. You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with soon, Tahira, but let’s walk before running, at least here at Lilybuds. Can you still use these sketches in your college application?”
I shrugged. I supposed I could, but without the follow-up photos of the plan implemented, what was the point?
“Don’t be discouraged, beti,” Shar said. Then she smiled at the sketch of the back wall. “This reminds me of the mural at Wynter’s.”
I cringed, looking at my drawing. Yup—the “designer” wallpaper I’d drawn did kind of look like that stupid purple and blue mural onthe barn at the nursery. The irony wasn’t lost on me. This moment also felt like a sack of poo had been thrown on what was supposed to be the start of an amazing summer.
Gia tilted her head, smiling at me with encouragement. “I totally want to help pick the pieces for a new line. It’ll be awesome.”
