Designer Drama (3 page)

Mickey had never been to Plush Fabric. So when Mr. Kaye ushered them through the doors, her jaw dropped. She felt like she was in Disney World! She had never seen so many bolts of beautiful material and could barely contain her excitement.

“You'll find it's organized by section,” Mr. Kaye explained. “Cottons and silks downstairs; wools and jersey upstairs.”

“Velvet?” South asked. “Where do I find velvet?” A polite saleswoman wearing a pair of scissors on a string around her neck directed South to the back of the first floor.

“We need some vegan leather,” Mars reminded Gabriel. “Chocolate brown.” A salesman showed them the section upstairs.

Mickey wandered up and down the aisles, snipping off swatches of assorted colors so she could compare them. Jade snuck up behind her. In fact, she'd been following Mickey around the entire time, just waiting to pounce.

“Are we making a patchwork quilt?” Jade asked, snatching a square of blue cotton out of Mickey's basket. “What's with all this mess? And ick! Is this polyester?”

Before Mickey could respond, Jake jumped between her and Jade. “You have to see this silver metallic taffeta I found,” he told his sister. “It's perfect!”

Jade's eyes narrowed. She was having fun taunting Mickey—and Jake had ruined it. “Really? Haven't I told you
never
to interrupt me when I'm in the middle of something?”

“But it's gorgeous—and really expensive!” Jake replied. He'd said the magic word.

“Expensive? How expensive?” Jade asked excitedly. “I love expensive!” She forgot all about Mickey and wandered off with her brother.

Mickey looked down at her basket, filled with multicolored scraps. She had no idea what to do for her third look—a romper? A pantsuit? A moto jacket? And what color should she choose? Maybe Jade was right. It did look like a big mess.

“You look perplexed,” said a voice behind her.

Mickey expected to see a salesman—but it was Tony from the museum!

“Hey!” she said, smiling.

“We meet again,” he replied, bowing ever so slightly. “May I offer some assistance?”

“Actually, you could,” Mickey said. “I'm designing a mini collection based on three French painters: Seurat, Renoir, and I have no idea.”

“Never heard of Monsieur ‘I have no idea,'” Tony teased.

“I need a third one,” Mickey clarified. “But I don't know enough about French art to be inspired.”

“I see,” Tony said. “Tell me about yourself—as a fashion designer.”

Mickey wrinkled her nose and thought hard. “Well, I don't try to design like anyone else,” she said. “I guess you would say my looks are a little out of the box?”

Tony took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a photo of a boldly painted still life. The blue teapot and yellow and orange fruit practically jumped out of their canvas. “Like this, perhaps?”

Mickey studied the painting. “The colors are so bright and powerful,” she said.

“
Oui.
Gauguin was thought to be very avant-garde in his time.”

Mickey nodded. “So people didn't get him?”

“Get him?” Tony looked confused. “Ah,
ou
i
! They didn't understand or appreciate his art—not for quite some time. While everyone was doing soft, muted colors, he chose to paint in brights. His paintings had great symbolism and inspired many painters who followed.”

Mickey studied the painting. “I like him. He's inspiring me.” She waved at Mr. Kaye who was across the floor. “Where are the fluorescent fabrics?”

Mr. Kaye's eyes grew wide. She wasn't sure what she had said to upset him, but he came charging toward her with steam coming out of his ears. Then she realized he wasn't heading for her at all. He was about to grab Tony!

“Gaston Roget!” he shouted.

“Chester Kaye,” Tony replied.

Mickey stared. What was he talking about? Tony had been so nice—and helpful! Then she remembered the name JC had found on the FIFI website—the name of the Apparel Arts teacher and Mr. Kaye's big competitor. She looked at Tony and realized that without the eye patch, beard, and graying hair, her museum buddy did look slightly familiar.

“Why are you bothering one of my students?” Mr. Kaye continued yelling at him.

“I was merely helping,” Tony replied.

“Helping? Helping her to lose the International Student Runway competition is more likely,” Mr. Kaye fired back.

He turned to Mickey. “Mackenzie. Leave us—at once!”

Mickey gulped. She had never seen Mr. Kaye this angry. She backed off and ducked behind a few bolts of fabric where she could hear everything and see the two of them face each other, nose to nose.

“Such a lovely treat seeing you again,
mon am
i
!” Tony smiled slyly.

“Don't you ‘
mon am
i
' me,” Mr. Kaye replied. “You're no friend.”

“Ah, but you forget. We were the best of friends once. A long, long time ago.”

“Ancient history!” Mr. Kaye snapped. “You are nothing but a slimy, underhanded, conniving…”

“Tsk-tsk.” Tony waved his pointer finger in Mr. Kaye's face. “It's not polite to call people names.”

“And it's not polite to steal people's jobs,” Mr. Kaye said. “You knew I wanted the position at FIFI.”

“And you found yourself a job here instead—in Brooklyn.”

Mr. Kaye's face was now bright red. “Because you stole my job.”

“Stole? That is a very harsh word. I would say I just pointed out to the administration that I was the better candidate.”

“Better? You will never be a better teacher than me!” Mr. Kaye insisted.

Mickey didn't know what to do or say—but she had to defend Mr. Kaye somehow.

“He is!” she said, jumping out of her hiding spot. “He's the best teacher. He knows everything about fashion design, and he's helped me find my voice as a designer.”

Tony smiled. “Good for you. You see, Chester, you are just where you should be. Who needs Paris?”

Mr. Kaye gritted his teeth. “My students will win the runway competition this year, and you will eat your words,” he vowed.

Tony smiled. “Then I wish you well. May the best teacher win.” With that, he turned and left Plush.

“Mr. Kaye…are you okay?” Mickey asked gently.

“Why were you fraternizing with the enemy?” he bellowed.

“The enemy? Tony didn't seem like the enemy. He seemed like a nice guy.”

“He's a liar and a thief,” Mr. Kaye answered. “A wolf in sheep's clothing!”

Once again, she had no idea what her teacher was going on and on about—so she just nodded her head in agreement. “I can see you don't like each other very much.”

Mr. Kaye took a deep breath. “He is not to be trusted. I don't know why he's here in New York, but it's no doubt to sabotage me.”

Mickey actually liked Tony's idea about Gauguin's bold colors, but she could never tell Mr. Kaye where it had come from. “I'm just going to find some fluorescent-pink and green silks,” she said. Mr. Kaye didn't even hear her. He was still mumbling to himself—something about “a barracuda with no taste or style.”

Mickey noticed Jade pushing Jake toward a display of buttons and trims. “Not
those
buttons. Honestly, do you have
any
taste that's not in your mouth?” Jade asked her brother.

Jade realized then that Mickey was watching her. “Yoo-hoo, Mickey! The burlap is in the basement,” Jade called to her. “And the bargain bin: twenty-five cents a yard!”

Mickey realized she knew exactly how Mr. Kaye felt. Tony was his Jade Lee! As much as Mickey tried to ignore them, the snarky remarks and mean jabs hurt—and they chipped away at her confidence.

She looked back at Mr. Kaye and knew she had only one option: to win for both of them.

Mickey had spent nearly all weekend staring at her dress form, Edith. She'd named her after the famous Hollywood designer, Edith Head. But now neither she—nor Edith—looked particularly happy with the result of her design. It was a simple halter-top jumpsuit, covered in assorted neon fabric squares, arranged in a woven, checkered pattern. All she could think about was what Jade had said—“Are you making a patchwork quilt?”—because that's what her design looked like.

Aunt Olive came in Mickey's bedroom and rested a plate of kale cookies and a cup of chamomile tea on her nightstand.

“Tough assignment?” she asked. “You've been at it all day.”

Mickey sighed. “Impossible. I just can't see it.”

Olive looked at Edith. “I think it's too tidy.” Coming from her aunt—a legal secretary and neat freak who believed in moderation, precision, and exacting detail—that sounded strange.

“Too tidy?” Mickey asked.

Olive chose her words carefully. “I think it feels like you're trying too hard.”

Mickey rested her head on her desk. She knew Olive was right. She
was
trying too hard. The design wasn't flowing like it usually did. She was thinking too much about what people would say when they saw it—and not about what she wanted to say as a designer.

“I'm calling JC,” Mickey finally said. “He's my partner on this project, and I need his advice.”

She used FaceTime on her phone so her friend could get a look at what she'd created.

“A little more to the right…no the left,” JC said as she held up her phone to Edith's outfit.

“Now back up,” JC added. “Way, way up. Can you leave the room?”

“Leave the room?” Mickey asked. “Why?”

“It's just… Well, it's not working. It looks like something I finger-painted in kindergarten! Wait…are those bell-bottoms? Eek! It keeps getting worse!”

“JC!” Mickey moaned. “You're making
me
feel worse!”

“I'm sorry. I'm just being honest,” he replied. “You called me for my opinion.”

Mickey nodded. “I did. So what do you think?”

“I think you should shred that outfit and start all over,” JC suggested. “Doesn't your aunt have one of those document shredders for work?”

Mickey gritted her teeth. “Not helping.” Then an idea came to her. “Wait! That's it.”

“What's
i
t
?” JC asked.

“Shred it! I should shred it!”

“Uh, yeah. Back to the ol' drawing board.”

“No, I mean literally!”

JC looked confused. “When you get that crazy look in your eye, I should just get out of your way and let you get down to designing.”

Mickey wasn't even listening; she had already started taking a scissor to the pant legs of Edith's outfit.

“Okay, Mick.
Bon chance!
That's French for good luck!” He clicked off his phone.

Mickey took a step back to admire her new idea. “Edith, we have a winner!” she said excitedly. “I can't wait to show Mr. Kaye tomorrow.”

When the first-period bell rang, Mickey dashed into Advanced Apparel Arts, dragging a huge garment bag over her shoulder. JC trailed behind her, rolling in Edith who was covered in a drape cloth.

“Whoa,” South said as Mickey took the seat next to her. “Whatcha got in the bag?”

“Something I'm really proud of,” Mickey answered. “It took me a long time, but I think it's one of my best designs.”

Jade shot her a look from across the studio. “That isn't saying much,” she commented before taking out a compact to powder her nose. “Your best is at best…mediocre.”

JC sprang to her defense. “Why don't you wait and see before you make your nasty little comments,” he said. “You might be eating those words.”

Jade didn't bother looking away from her own reflection. “Whatevs.”

“They don't stand a chance. Right, Jade?” Jake asked, looking for reassurance. “I mean, our design is
sick
.”

“Sick? Who's sick?” Mr. Kaye asked. It wasn't like him to be a minute late, but today he seemed to be dragging. “Silence!” he bellowed at the class. Then he sneezed and coughed and dabbed his bright-red nose with a hankie. “I'm sick as a dog—and do I have one of you to blame for it?”

The students all shook their heads no. There wasn't a single sniffle—besides his—in the studio.

“My head is pounding. My throat is raw,” he said. “I'm sure it's the flu—or the plague. You!” he snapped at Gabriel. “Present!”

Gabriel and Mars quickly rolled their dress form to the front of the room. “Our collection is inspired by Paris's underground sewers,” Gabriel began.

“Ew!” Jade cried. “That's disgusting!”

“Gross!” Jake chimed in. “Isn't that place filled with whatever you flush?”

Mr. Kaye tried to silence the class but launched into a coughing fit instead.

Mars spoke for him. “Would you please keep your comments to yourselves till after the presentation?” she told Jake and Jade. “Zip it!”

Gabriel thought she was talking to him and quickly zipped the black velvet hoodie they'd designed. “See? The shape of the hood mimics the shape of the sewer tunnels,” he said.

“And we've accessorized it with a chain-link skirt that I welded,” Mars said.

“Very—
achoo!
—innovative,” Mr. Kaye said. “And what does the rest of your collection look like?”

Gabriel pulled out a motorcycle jacket constructed from gray flannel with silver studs and a brown satin trench coat that Mars had embellished with a huge, gold skull-shaped brooch.

“It's a bit dark,” Mr. Kaye said, squinting to get a better look at the pieces. “Then again, my vision is somewhat hazy today…”

Jade's hand shot up. “Can I show mine now? It'll make you feel better.”

Mr. Kaye sneezed. “Fine. You're next.”

Jade and Jake wheeled the dress figure to the front of the room. It was draped in a red velvet cloth. “Be prepared for brilliance,” Jade said, as she triumphantly yanked the cloth away. “Ta-da!”

Mr. Kaye didn't look very wowed—in fact, he looked half asleep! But Mickey's heart sank. As much as she hated to admit it, Jade's design was pretty amazing.

“I used black leather strips to create the image of the Eiffel Tower,” she said, rolling the silver, silk column gown close to Mr. Kaye so he could get a better look. “The crisscross lattice pattern you see? All hand-stitched.”

“Not by
her
hand,” JC muttered under his breath. “Her mommy's seamstresses probably did it for her.”

“And this,” Jake said, “is my tuxedo jacket inspired by the architectural plans for the tower. The fabric is actually printed with a copy of the real blueprints.”

Mickey was utterly speechless. Why hadn't she thought of that?

Jade snapped her fingers at Mr. Kaye to make sure he was still awake. He jumped to attention and scowled.

“Just one more thing,” she said. “My Arc de Triomphe trousers!” She pulled out a pair of pants from her garment bag. Each leg was embroidered to look like one of the arch's neoclassical columns.

Mr. Kaye raised an eyebrow. “Your collection is well executed and well thought-out,” he said hoarsely. “But I fear it's a bit literal.”

Jade's face flushed. “Literal? I
literally
created a masterpiece. Three of them, to be exact!”

Mr. Kaye continued. “I think you could have pushed the envelope more,” he said dismissively. “I'm not sure I see much of you in this collection. I see Paris, but where is Jade?”

Jake elbowed his sister. “See! I told you the blueprint idea was too much. But do you ever listen to me? Nooooo!”

Jade stomped back to her seat, furious.

“South, you went solo. Let's see what you came up with,” Mr. Kaye said, popping a cough drop in his mouth.

“I was inspired by French history,” South said. “In particular, Queen Marie Antoinette.”

Her first look was a modern take on a ruffled royal ball gown—but the skirt was short in the front and long in the back, and pearls were draped dramatically off each cap-sleeved shoulder. Her second design was a gold brocade jean jacket. Instead of studs, big faux diamonds fastened the pockets.

“And last but not least,” South said, “I call this look, ‘Let them eat cake!'” She presented a white velvet cape “iced” with pink rickrack trim.

Mr. Kaye cleared his throat. “Nice choice of materials and whimsical designs,” he said. “But the execution is a bit sloppy.” He pointed to a section of the cape where the trim was hanging loose.

South looked disappointed when she sat back down. “I really thought he was going to love it,” she said to Mickey.

“And last but not least, Mickey and company,” Mr. Kaye said, punctuating his sentence with a loud
acho
o
!

JC ducked for cover. “Hey!” he said, checking his jacket sleeve for any smudges. “This thing took me hours!” He carefully modeled his impressionist-inspired jacket while fiercely protecting it. When Gabriel reached out to feel the fabric, JC yanked the jacket away. “Uh, uh, uh,” he warned. “The art is for looking, not touching!”

He then spun around so Mr. Kaye could see the portrait he'd recreated on the back.

“Renoir?” Mr. Kaye asked. “I don't recall the dog in that painting being so pasty white.”

JC went back to his seat, returned the jacket to its bag, and bit his tongue. “He's just grumpy because he thinks Monsieur Roget gave you some pointers,” he whispered to Mickey. “Don't let him scare you. He's all bark, no bite.”

Mickey was up next. She walked to the front of the room, unzipped the garment bag, and pulled out her Seurat wrap dress. “From a distance, we see a lovely park scene of trees and grass,” she said. “But up close, it's actually several different shades of green fabric paint applied with a teeny, tiny brush.”

Mr. Kaye sniffed. “Yes, yes, go on.”

She lifted her third design carefully out of the bag, and Mr. Kaye's face lit up.

“Good heavens!” he said. “What is that?”

“A Gauguin still-life evening gown,” Mickey explained. “I mimicked his long, bold brushstrokes by creating floor-length shreds of bright blue, yellow, orange, and green silk. The orange beading around the high neckline is a nod to his painted fruit.”

Mr. Kaye dabbed his eyes. Mickey couldn't tell if the cold was making them water or if he was actually moved by what she'd created.

“Creative, innovative, groundbreaking,” Mr. Kaye said.

JC elbowed her. “He means you.”

“I'll need some time to look at all the work closely and make up my mind, but I do think the winner is fairly evident from today's presentations.” He picked up his box of tissues. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the school nurse.”

Mickey couldn't stop smiling. Mr. Kaye had actually loved her designs. All her hard work had paid off. All she had to do was wait for Mr. Kaye to make the big announcement, and she and JC would be going to Paris!

“Don't count your chickens till they've hatched,” Jade warned, pushing past her. “This isn't over yet.”