More than Fashion

18

They spoke with Dawn first. She’d made a soft, feminine dress that was backless, with two panels of sheer lace running down her model's shoulder blades. The effect was elegant and classy, yet very sexy. They continued down the line, talking with the other designers with the best and worst dresses. Nika’s dress barely covered her model’s ass and had darts that made her boobs look like cones. Another girl had a dress that looked like it was barely hanging together by a thread and might slide right off if the model moved too much. Both of them were on the bottom. The judges loved Gavin’s dress, to no one’s surprise.

I was next.

Lola started off the critique. “Your dress looks like something I could pick up in a costume store. On the clearance rack.”

Ouch. My body seemed to deflate, like someone had popped me with a pin and all the air was sucked out of me. I was so going home.

Ricardo nodded. “I agree. It looks like she’s Red Riding Hood or something.”

Kiara looked down at her notes and then back up at me. “Julie, I actually really liked your dress. It stood out on the runway.”

I wanted to hug her. If only one judge liked me, it might edge me out over the others.

Beverly c****d her head. “I think you have an interesting idea here, but I don’t know if it really fit the challenge. It doesn’t feel like a little black dress.”

“Exactly,” Ricardo said. “And I don’t know if anyone could really wear it out.”

I would totally wear it out, but I just nodded, too tongue-tied to speak without falling apart.

“But it looks fun,” Beverly argued. “I could see a young girl wearing it.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “To a Halloween party maybe.”

“I’d wear it,” Kiara said. My new favorite person. “On a cold night? Totally. That hood is fierce, and I love the cut of the dress.” She shrugged. “I like it.”

I gave her a thankful smile, but it was quickly ruined by Lola’s harsh voice. “Of course you’d like it. It looks like something a kid would wear.”

Kiara’s eyes widened at the nasty comment, but Beverly held up a hand. “I do have to say, it would photo nicely in a magazine. And it fits the model perfectly.”

“True,” Ricardo said. “But does it fit the challenge?”

I cleared my throat, finally finding my voice. “It’s black. And it’s a little dress. It just…has a hood, too. And pockets.” Carla demonstrated, twirling around and making the skirt flare with her hands in the pockets. If anyone could work this dress, it was her.

Lola sniffed. “It’s sloppy.”

“They only had six hours, to be fair,” Beverly said.

“The other designers managed in that time.”

I bowed my head, fighting back tears, ready for the next verbal lash, but they moved on to the next designer. This was my worst nightmare come to life. I was on the bottom and Gavin was on top—and not in a s****l way.

I couldn’t go home today. I couldn’t.

They made comments to the last designers that I barely heard, then dismissed us to sit down while they went into the back to make the final decision. Carla gave me a sympathetic arm squeeze before she left, but I couldn’t even look at her. If I was sent home, she’d be out of the competition, too.

“I’m shocked you’re on the bottom,” Gavin said, after we returned to our seats.

“Really?” My head snapped up. I’d already convinced myself that my dress was the worst thing ever designed, that I had no idea what I was doing, and that it had been a terrible mistake when they’d invited me on the show.

“Your dress was one of the better ones up there. What a load of rubbish.”

“Thanks. And…thanks for waking me up earlier. If you hadn’t…”

“You would have done the same for me, love.”

I wasn’t so sure. s**t, did that mean Gavin was a better person than me?

Another thirty minutes passed. One thing I was learning: we did a lot of waiting around on this show while the behind-the-scenes stuff happened. It was a strange contrast to our time during the challenge when we had to rush. Hurry and wait—that seemed to be the way things went around here.

The judges returned and we got back up on the runway to hear the verdict.

“We’ve made our decision.” Lola’s gaze swept back and forth across the designers. “And Dawn is the winner of this week’s challenge.”

“Thank you so much.” Dawn’s voice was quiet, soft, and feminine, like everything else about her. She was like some sort of forest nymph who had gotten lost and wound up in New York.

“Congratulations, Dawn,” Lola said. “You’ve won one thousand dollars and use of the private suite tonight. We can’t wait to see what else you do this season. Gavin, we also loved your dress and expect great things from you, too.” She paused, her eyes lingering on him before turning back to us. “And now…as you know, we are sending three designers home this week. It was a difficult decision, but we’re going to say goodbye to Jessie, Rilah, and Kathy.”

I replayed the names in my head one, two, three times.

None of them was mine.

My breath rushed out of me in a whoosh. I was safe for another week. The eliminated designers muttered insincere and disappointed thanks, although one of the girls flat-out burst into tears. The judges left the room, and Kelsey whisked us into the backstage lounge. The three designers going home said their goodbyes, but it all went pretty fast since no one had gotten a chance to know them very well yet. It sucked for them to be the first ones off the show, but if I was honest, I was just relieved it wasn’t me.