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I blink, surprised at his assessment. Clay and I have jokingly called ourselves Nora’s bitches, but not in front of other people. However, considering slang is a tricky part of language, I’m inclined to give Tobias the benefit of the doubt, especially considering he’s the one who flipped from French to what sounds like British English in an instant. Actually, all traces of his French accent have disappeared and he sounds as though he walked out of one of theKingsmanmovies, posh and upper-crust. Meanwhile, I’m over here with some Southie Massachusetts still coloring my speech... of the only language I know.
Molly goes back to her karaoke, wailing out, “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mothahhh—”
“Ah, afraid I’m not familiar with that tune. Perhaps you could introduce me to it,” he requests of Molly, who agrees with a wink. “To that end, I would suggest that we all attempt to speak English to one another, as it is the one language the five of you have in common. I understand that sometimes there are difficulties, and I’m happy to assist with any forgotten words. I speak French, English, both dialects of Japanese, Cantonese, Mandarin, Russian, Spanish, Italian, and a little of a few others. I’m a bit of a polyglot.”
“What does sexing lots of people have to do with languages?” Molly hisses.
“That’s polyamorous, and only with the consent of all involved parties,” I inform her quietly, my attention trained on Tobias.
“As I was saying before I began bragging about my linguistic prowess” —he grins, not the least bit chagrined at his boasting— “I am here to introduce you to the basics of our Fashion Females Under 25 event. We will have three weeks of competition, with a pre-selected theme introduced at the beginning of each week. You will create five looks for each show, which will be attended by a hand-selected grouping ofMadameCorbin’s fashion-obsessed friends, who will provide feedback on your work. Of course, our winner will be chosen atMadameCorbin’s discretion. Questions?”
When we’re silent, he continues. “However, before the competition begins, we felt it would be exciting to have a bit of fun.”
“Fun?” Katarina echoes, sounding like she doesn’t know what the word means. Whether that’s the language barrier or her serious demeanor, I’m not certain.
“Yes, each of you described your personal style on your application with three adjectives. Sometimes, the opposite of your style is even more telling of who you are, of the boundaries you’re willing to push beyond, and the creativity you possess.”
“I’m not liking the sound of this,” Molly murmurs.
“Plus, as I am a bit of a jester andMadameis a queen, she does enjoy a bit of entertainment. A razzle dazzle.” He wiggles his fingers in an approximation of jazz hands. “We propose that you choose three adjectives that are the opposite of your style as listed on your application. For example, if you described your style as ‘dark’, then perhaps the opposite would be ‘bright’ or ‘light’. We have prepared a selection of... shall I say, ‘supplies’, for your use. This will be a challenge to see how well you think on your feet. No sewing, no patterns, only simple styling using the selections we’ve provided. You will be your own model for this challenge. Be brave, be bold. Make no mistake, there is nothing too over the top, and you are being judged on your willingness to create an alter ego that is diametrically opposed to who you are as a designer.”
Yori raises her hand. “Excuse me?” When Tobias looks at her, she begins speaking quickly in one of the languages Tobias apparently speaks because he answers her back smoothly.
“I’m happy to translate to Russian or French if you’d like, as I did to Japanese for Yori,” Tobias offers when he’s finished. Both Katarina and Beatrice decline.
The door opens and Tobias gestures to the blonde woman who escorted us all in. “Please follow Sarah down the hall. You will have ten minutes, no more. Be back here, ready for presentation time, and don’t be late.MadameCorbin will be waiting for you, so enter with pizazz! Remember,entertainmahnt,” he says, not quite with an accent but rather with droll flair.
We all rush from the room, following Sarah to an area with racks filled with various clothing items. There’s one markedTops, another markedBottoms, and several smaller ones markedDresses,Coats,Sweaters, andAccessories. There’s also a table full of other styling options.
There are so many options, I’m instantly overwhelmed and completely forget what my original description of my style was. But when Molly, Katarina, and Beatrice dive into the racks and Yori rushes to a table, I finally get my feet moving and follow suit.
Classic. Elegant. With a twist.
It comes back to me in a flash. That’s how I described my design style. I agonized over whether ‘with a twist’ was a positive rebellion against the Three Descriptors question that showed my originality or proof that I couldn’t follow basic directions.
I flip through clothes, not knowing what I’m looking for. Finally, after considering an Amish-style prairie dress for way too long, I stop myself and close my eyes.
Focus, Autumn. Choose your words, and that’ll guide your selection.
“Classic. What’s the opposite?” I ask myself quietly. “Trendy,” I answer easily. “Disposable fashion, not something that’ll stand the test of time. Elegant? Trampy? No... maybe trashy? And twist.” I’m regretting that one, and then it comes to me. “Basic!”
Trendy. Trashy. Basic.
It’s perfect, the antithesis of my personal style and design aesthetic.
With those words echoing in my head, I begin flipping through the racks as quickly as I can.
Molly lets out a victory cry, and I glance up to see her holding a neon yellow tube top. “Got my dress! Layer one, complete.”
“Uhm, that’s not a dress, Mols,” I warn.
“It is if I say it is.” She’s confident, I’ll give her that. “I need a boa. Move it or lose it! Incoming!” she yells just in time for Yori to move out of her way as she attacks the rack of boas in every color of the rainbow.
I find a neon pink scarf with a satiny sheen and grab it before running over to the jewelry table. I find a ridiculously chunky, long chain that would be enough for Mr. T to only wear one necklace, and weave the scarf through the chain a few times. Pleased with where this is going, I yank my clothes off and lay them over another table.
Nudity, or near nudity, at least, isn’t a big deal in the fashion world. Admittedly, I’m not usually naked backstage, but I’ve used myself during the creation process more than a few times.
I fasten the necklace around my waist, forgoing the expectation of wearing it around my neck, and then tie the scarf around my neck, creating a halter effect. Next, a skirt, or maybe pants?
