MAKE IT A WOW
Paige Young hadn’t looked up at her the whole time.
Emma tried to explain her designs, the models, and Billy. With a waxy red pencil, Paige aggressively circled sections of an upcoming fashion spread laid out across the vast expanse of her desk. Each mark ended with a satisfied flourish, and then Paige peered closer at the page and marked again, not saying anything. Chipping nervously at the sapphire-blue polish on her nails, Emma wondered if Paige was listening.
“Let me get this straight.” Paige continued to scrutinize the magazine proofs for flaws. “You got Allegra into the Goin’ Green benefit yourselves? And then you put together this model go-see yourselves?”
Emma glanced quickly at Charlie who, for once, showed no interest in taking credit for these feats. He inspected the rims of his mirrored aviator sunglasses that he balanced on his fingertips, as if he had nothing to do with any of it.
Way to step up, Emma thought.
“Yes,” Emma admitted to Paige. “You said you wanted us to run with Allegra. I e-mailed you, but I got a message that you were out of the office. I probably should have called back or something, but I know you don’t like to be bothered when you’re busy at work.” Paige raised her red pencil, and one eyebrow. Busted. She’d just barged in while Paige was busy at work. “And then I thought…well, maybe you were away with your, um, fiancé….”
This wasn’t true at all. She hadn’t thought that until now, when she noticed the slight bronze glow to Paige’s porcelain skin. When they’d first met, Paige had an appointment at Laceland to choose lace for her wedding dress. Paige had never talked to Emma about her upcoming wedding or the guy she was marrying. Emma suddenly realized she knew nothing about either.
Not that she and Paige were close in that way.
Or any way.
“You sent an e-mail?” Paige slammed down the pencil. “Caroline? Caroline?”
Her voice didn’t seem loud enough to attract anyone’s attention, but in seconds, her perky assistant appeared in the doorway. Caroline wore a flared pale pink dress, black tights and impossibly tall, pointy boots. Her auburn hair was pulled up in a super-high, sleek ponytail. “Yes, Paige?”
“Did I get an e-mail from Allegra Biscotti while I was out?”
Caroline quickly scrolled through the small tablet she carried. “Yes. I filed it in your ‘To Do’ folder.”
Paige ran her fingers through her ebony hair, gripping her head in exasperation. “Caroline, details. We’ve talked about this. You need to organize. Give Allegra a separate file. Can you do that for me? Can you give me a system that actually works?”
“Of course.” Caroline tried to control the waver in her voice. “Right away.”
Paige trained her grey-blue eyes on Emma, as Caroline scurried away down the plushly-carpeted halls of Madison. “Actually, I’m very impressed with all this. You have more fire than I imagined.”
“Well, I—” Charlie started in.
“But what do we do now? About Billy Perez? About the models? The benefit is in two and a half weeks.” Emma decided Charlie could have his glory later. Paige rarely kept her attention on one topic for more than a few minutes. Emma had to press on.
“Personally, I find Billy Perez to be a whiner, but he is in charge of this benefit and can’t be pushed aside.” Paige was all business. “First off, no personal interviews with Allegra.”
“Obviously,” Charlie muttered.
Paige chose to ignore him. “Allegra will be leaving Milan tonight, so she will not have time to speak with Billy’s friend. Quite unfortunate.” Her lips turned up in a half-smile. “Allegra will agree to an e-mail interview. We will cloak her in mystery. Francesca, darling? Come closer and make yourself useful. Let’s respond to Mr. Perez. I need your intimate knowledge of Milan to spice this up.”
Francesca stood alongside, supplying reference points in the Italian city, famous for its fashion, and throwing in some choice society names. Paige opened a link to Allegra’s personal e-mail and crafted a reply on her computer.
Emma watched in awe. Both women were so effortlessly fashionable. Paige wore a winter white capped-sleeve dress with a keyhole neckline in a heavy crepe. Big hammered gold cuffs adorned each wrist. And Francesca had on a pearly gray trapeze dress with gray tights and chunky red suede pumps with a gray suede toe. Someday when she had somewhere to go other than middle school, Emma wanted to dress in outfits just like theirs. So chic they looked like they’d walked right off of the pages of Madison. She’d love to pop into the fashion closet at Madison—the place where all of the fabulous designer clothing went after the shoots.
“That problem is solved for now.” Paige held her hand palm-up. “Where are the photos of your models?”
“We don’t have actual printed photos,” Emma admitted.
“What do you have?”
“The photos are on Charlie’s phone.” Emma could tell Paige’s patience was running low. “Charlie, give her your phone.”
“I did a chart, too. Measurements, likes, dislikes. I also have video of them walking.” Charlie sounded very professional.
“All I need is the photos.” Paige scrolled quickly through the shots. “Not bad. I like this girl’s bone structure. The light will hit her right. But this one, good God! She’s so angular and gaunt.” She dragged Emilie’s photo to the trash.
“What about Natalia?” Charlie reached over and scrolled to her photo.
“Oh, yes!” Francesca clapped her hands together at the sight of her friend.
“Do you not see this poor girl’s calves and ankles? The camera will only add pounds.” Paige added Carmen’s photo to the electronic trashcan.
“That’s unfair.” Emma liked the way Carmen looked. “Anyway, why do we care how the models look in front of a camera? I don’t think many people will want to take pictures at Allegra’s show, will they?”
“Pictures?” Paige tossed the phone across the desk towards Charlie and reached for a glass bottle of healthy green juice resting near her telephone. “Why would people take pictures of a video?”
“Video?” Charlie and Emma repeated at the same time.
“I’m feeling confusion here. I don’t like to feel confusion. Goin’ Green does not do live fashion shows. Do we not know this?”
“We do not.” Emma shot Charlie a questioning look.
Charlie shrugged.
“All the fashion shows at the benefit are filmed beforehand by the designers. They all run at the same time on different screens around the large room,” Paige explained. “Do you really believe I’d be sitting here so calmly if I knew you’d agreed to a live fashion show? Do you think I’d ever allow you to do something so huge and potentially disastrous at this point? We are building Allegra Biscotti’s career, not taking it down with one bad turn on the catwalk.”
“A video is molto bene,” Francesca interjected.
“It is good,” Paige agreed. “My advice—go small and simple. You don’t want your audience focusing on lots of wobbly, inexperienced models. Make the clothes the focus. Clean. Crisp. Simple. Got it?”
“Totally,” Emma said, relief flooding her body. “If we can film this, I don’t need all those models. I can just use Holly over and over. I know her measurements. I’ve designed for her forever. And Holly’s really good with hair. She can give herself different styles for each outfit. It’ll be perfect.”
“We hope. Which one is Holly?” Paige flipped through the photos again.
“She’s not in there.” Emma showed Paige a photo of Holly on her phone. She’d taken it in September at the farmer’s market in Union Square. Holly held one large sunflower and wore white T-shirt with torn, cropped jeans and a pair of navy Espadrilles. With her hair in a ponytail, she looked totally classic, casual Holly.
“Nice shoulders. Long legs.” Paige handed Emma back her phone.
Did that mean Paige liked Holly? Emma decided to take it as a “yes.”
“And your designs?” Under her desk, Paige tapped the toe of her nude-suede, red-soled Louboutin pumps. Emma recognized this cue. Tapping meant Paige was losing interest.
Quickly, Emma pulled her sketchbook from her bag and stood alongside Paige, as she flipped through the pages. “So my palette is mossy green, a deep beet red, gold, and then a range of browns and buffs,” Emma began as Paige nodded. “I made my own natural dyes to work with the ‘Goin’ Green’ theme.”
Paige was silent. Not bad silent, but not good silent either. Just not so patiently listening, so Emma kept going. She started with the dresses. The high-collared tunic with a bead-encrusted collar in beet red. Then the mini slip dress with strands of beads for straps. Paige made an approving murmur and flipped to the next page, which revealed the high-waisted pants in buff with a wide leg. She’d come up with a cool-looking geometric design, which was now the beaded belt buckle in the faux belt that wound around the high waist of the pants.
“I’m thinking this would go with a cropped tank in gold with very subtle beading,” Emma explained, showing a fitted jacket in the moss green.
Paige pursed her mauve-glossed lips, still being disconcertingly quiet. The silence was broken by the sound of wheels squeaking by Paige’s open door.
“Oh, Maddie! I need you,” Paige called suddenly as a young woman with strawberry-blond curls rolled a clothing rack by the doorway. Although the January temperatures outside were frigid, the rack showcased dozens of shorts: sailor shorts, high-waisted shorts, shorts with color-blocked pockets, bubble shorts. “Lose everything not in the citrus family.”
Maddie fingered a pair of navy linen shorts with gray piping down the side. “Even these?” she asked.
“Does that look like a citrus fruit to you?” Paige snapped. “Lemon, lime, and tangerine. Citrus is the direction for the July issue shorts spread. Call around to the designers. I need citrus shorts before six tonight.”
“But it’s almost five now—” Maddie started.
Paige sighed. “Okay, six-thirty then. Good?”
Maddie widened her eyes, debating whether or not Paige was really asking a question. But Paige had already turned back to Emma’s sketches. Maddie hurried away, the wheels of the clothing rack squeaking in protest against her speed.
“Your designs are nice,” Paige announced, closing the sketchbook.
“Nice?” Emma repeated.
“Nice.”
“I was hoping for ‘wow.’” Emma said, disappointed.
“Well the ‘wow’ isn’t there yet. Everything is pretty and wearable. But very safe, very quiet. You’ve got to pump up the volume on these to get to ‘wow.’” Paige stood abruptly and headed for the door. “I have a citrus problem to solve now.”
Paige’s office fell silent once she left. None of them said anything. Emma leaned against the taupe-leather guest chair and studied the black-and-white framed prints that lined the walls of Paige’s office. Marilyn Monroe in her famous billowy-white dress. Audrey Hepburn in a long black Givenchy column dress. Jackie O. in her pillbox hat and stylish suit. Michelle Obama in her one-shoulder inaugural Jason Wu gown.
These were all famous wow fashion moments. Emma had nice.
She had to rethink her whole collection. She had to turn nice into wow.
Or, at least, into very nice.
