“Trade secret,” Clarissa jokes.
I continue to stare.
Sonya rolls her eyes. “What she means is that we’ve invested heavily in a custom computer-automated design program that can draft the pattern from the measurements inputted into it in a matter of minutes. Couture and full custom patterns, however, are still done entirely by hand, of course.”
That’s clever. “Like a men’s made-to-measure suit?”
“Exactly.” Sonya grins. “Menswear has been doing it for years, so why not women’s wear too?”
We’ve used a few CAD programs, but our teachers never wanted us to become reliant on them. They wanted us to have the ability to do things old school, since a lot of the fashion industry still does things by hand too. But I’ll admit, I’m itching to see and play around with the program the atelier uses.
“So are we convincing you?” Sonya interrupts my thoughts. “Will you say yes to working on Clarissa’s dress?”
“Um...” I don’t really see a downside to this. I mean, Icame prepared to say yes if I were offered the job. Now the tables have turned, and they’re pitching me. Is this really happening?
“I should mention that your budget for this project would be unlimited, and for your time, we’ll pay you the going rate the Clarissa Lee Atelier has with our higher-profile clients for special-occasion evening wear—twenty thousand pounds per dress.”
“Wow,” I stagger backward into the wall. “That’s unbelievable.”
“Believe it,” Clarissa urges.
I spend the remainder of my presentation floating through the second look, a sleeveless dress in blush pink. It contains a lace bodice with an illusion neckline, a satin bow at the waist, and flares out to the ground. For this specific look, I mention that I’ve played around with the idea of having the three-quarter lace bolero be made up of tiny seahorses. Clarissa loves the color and the concept. It’s another win.
When it comes time for Sonya’s dress, she gives me a free pass to do whatever I want so long as the color is a shade of pink. I assure her that’s what I had planned. I decide not to show her my existing sketches. She has a longer torso than I’d imagined, and I want to take the time to ensure my design has the right proportions.
The day may have started off as a complete disaster, but at least it’s ending on a high note.
Liz
Well?
Min
I got it.
Liz
Well done, you! Ring me right now!
My fingers fumbleas I tap on the video request. It takes a moment for my phone to connect. When Liz picks up, she’s in the cutting room with a long table. A measuring tape is draped around her neck.
“I am so proud of you! I knew you could do it, Min,” she gushes.
“Thanks.” I grin. “What about you? When is your pitch to Lord Renbrook?”
“Oh, it was this morning,”
“What?” I sputter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because your meeting was much more important. I didn’t want to distract you.” Unbelievable. Of course I’d want to know. Liz knows that. “Well? Don’t leave me in suspense. How did it go?”
“I’ve been commissioned for the bespoke morning suit.”
I clap a hand against my forearm and she bows. “Way to go Liz! You know, the funny thing is, I can’t picture Lord Renbrook in normal clothing.”
“Neither can I. He admitted to being a clothing snob. He’s an interesting chap.”
“He is.”
