“And you girls are?” Marigold Parker asked. I recognized her from all the pre-competition research I did. She was a big time, for-real, fashion designer. I almost curtsied in her presence.
I took a breath before I answered, trying to push aside all the anger I was feeling. I needed to switch on, go into professional mode. “I am Truly Winx and this is Jane Davis.”
Marigold checked her clipboard and made a tick. “Wonderful. So, is this your entry?”
For a second, I considered telling her that it wasn’t. I didn’t want to be associated with a dress that wasn’t my full design. I didn’t want to be a laughing stock.
Yet stupid Jane didn’t get the memo. “This is our entry, yes.”
“Take a step back please so we can have a good look,” Marigold instructed.
I stood with Jane by the wall, hoping she could feel all the angry waves I was sending her. It was difficult keeping it up while watching the judges though, so she got a momentary reprieve.
Marigold was co-judging with Richard Webb, a fashion critic that wrote for the newspapers, and Veronica May, a professional fashion buyer.
They had their hands all over the dress, making me die a little on the inside. I didn’t want them to ruin it, not after everything we’d gone through to get it here.
But, then again, they couldn’t ruin it any more than Jane had.
“Interesting design,” Marigold said to the other judges. They nodded in agreement before quickly whispering amongst themselves.
“Stitching is even and quite good quality,” Veronica said.
“I like this embellishment,” Richard commented. “It really lifts the overall appeal.” Marigold and Veronica both nodded in agreement.
“I’m not a fan of the color. I would have chosen something more pastel. Blush is a huge trend this season. I would have liked to have seen it more current.”
“Totes agree, Marigold,” Veronica chimed in. “The ruffle can only do so much. The fabric is good quality, it feels great, just not the color.”
The color? Seriously? That’s what they were having the trouble with? Jane and I had made that decision together. So much for our taste.
Richard let go of the dress and pursed his lips while he looked at it from more of a distance. “It might be the wrong color but it would sit beautifully on a model. The fabric would skim the curves and accentuate the figure. It’s very well done, really.”
They made a few notes on their clipboards. I tried to get a look but they were angled away from me. The judges then moved onto the next dress.
I could finally breathe again. I think I was holding my breath the entire time they were judging us.
“So what do we do now?” Jane asked as she fixed the dress from the judges’ touches.
“We don’t do anything,” I replied, still angry with her. “I’m going to find some food.” I stomped off in true dramatic fashion.
The judges weren’t going to announce their decision until four o’clock. That left three hours to fill in. We weren’t allowed to pack anything away so it was just a case of sitting around until then.
I grabbed some hot chips and ate them by myself. Jane was smart enough not to follow me. When I was done, I took a better look at the other dresses in the competition. I wanted to see what other people were designing, what kinds of fabrics they were using, and how they differed from mine.
Every dress was completely different. And I was pleased to see not many people had realized pastels were supposed to be in. I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get that memo.
One of the things I loved about fashion was the diversity. There was something for all tastes in the competition, each dress as individual and unique as its designer. There was no discrimination, it was simply that everything went. For every dress made there would be someone that would fall in love with it.
I, for one, fell in love with several of them. None were as good as my original design, of course. But there were some stunning dresses there that I would have been more than happy to have in my closet.
The afternoon completely dragged by. With an hour still to go, I sat in the rows of seats and just waited. I hated sitting still so it was torturous. I watched every minute pass by.
Jane joined me at some stage. She could have sat in any seat in the rows, but she chose the one right beside me. Like we were still a team or something.
So the judges liked her embellishments and that darn extra ruffle. That didn’t mean anything. I still didn’t like them and she shouldn’t have changed my design without asking me first.
But, then again, maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at her either. Not in front of everyone. And definitely not in front of the judges. My mom always said there was a time and place for everything, it was a piece of advice I rarely followed and today was no exception.
We sat there in silence anyway. The closer it got to the announcement, the more my nerves crackled with anticipation. I so badly wanted to hear my name being called as the winner. Everything I ever wanted was in my grasp and hinged on that one moment.
I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if I didn’t win. It would mean that I probably wasn’t ever going to have this opportunity again. It would mean I wouldn’t be a fashion designer. Which would suck, considering I was born to be a fashion designer.
Finally, four o’clock came. Everyone gathered in the chairs. Five painful minutes later, the judges took the podium set up at the front. I was terrified, literally terrified.
Marigold spoke for all three of the judges. “My, what a day we’ve had! So many great talents out there. Thank you to everyone for entering, you’re all winners.”
Yeah, yeah, we’re all great. Get on with it.
“I’m sure you’re all eager to hear the winner so I won’t drag this out.”
You got that right, Marigold. Now come on. Tell us. I crossed each of my fingers and toes. I would have crossed my intestines if I knew how.
“And the winner of the Young Designer of the Future competition is…”