More than Fashion

9

Despite my pounding head, excitement surged through me, mixed with the prickling of nerves. Further inside, I would meet the other designers and see where I’d be living for the next few weeks. And then we’d get our first challenge. How soon would it be? Right when we got in? I hoped not because I could really use something to eat and drink. And a shower. And a nap.

Kelsey had us sign some paperwork at the front desk, then clapped her hands and flashed that giant smile at us. “Great, we’re all set! Carla, please wait here and someone will take you for photos and to get your measurements. Julie, come with me and we’ll get you set up for the show!”

An assistant took my luggage, and I felt a sudden rush of panic. This was really happening now. No turning back.

Carla gave me a hug, and even though she was about a foot taller than me and I got a face full of boobs, I appreciated it. And, to be fair, they were damn nice boobs.

“Good luck,” she said.

“You too.”

“You’re going to be amazing.”

“I know.” I gave her a confident smile. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “And you already are.”

Kelsey and I headed down a hallway. To my dismay, she continued her perky chirping. “First up, I’m taking you for photos and a quick interview! Then you’ll join the other designers for a quick reception!”

I wanted to throw up. And not just from my hangover. “Are the other designers already here?”

“Some of them. We’re staggering the arrivals so we don’t get overwhelmed, since there are fourteen of you to start. Oh, and you’re the youngest designer this season! Isn’t that cool?”

“Um, sure.” That definitely fueled my already-large ego, but it also meant everyone else would have more experience than me. All those doubts crept back in, that nagging voice that said I didn’t belong here, but I forced them to the back of my brain.

Fuck that noise. I was meant to do this.

Kelsey pushed open a frosted glass door and led me into a room with a backdrop with the Behind The Seams logo. Bright lights were fixed on a metal stool in the middle, with a camera crew set up in front of it.

Kelsey directed me to sit and then stood back so she wasn’t in view of the camera. A guy came over and added more makeup, slapping powder on my shiny forehead, while a girl ran a brush through my hair. I was tempted to apologize to them for looking like such a hot mess, but just gave them each a weak smile. Anything more was too much effort at the moment.

Once they decided I looked decent, the cameras began to roll and Kelsey rattled off questions. They were all pretty basic and expected—about my childhood, how I started designing clothes, why I wanted to win the show, and what my design aesthetic was. I somehow made it through them all without throwing up, but when it was over, I had no idea what I’d actually said. I prayed they could work some editing magic to make me sound halfway coherent.

Kelsey led me into another room, where I smiled and posed for promotional photographs, while mentally kicking myself again for drinking so much last night. After that, Kelsey slapped a name tag on my chest, and a cute sound guy fitted me with a portable microphone. He showed me how to turn it off and on, stressing that I should turn it off during downtime so the battery lasted longer. Then he attached the battery pack to my ankle before hiding the tiny mic inside the bust of my dress. On any other day, I’d be all over a hot guy with his hands inside my clothes, but today all I could do was concentrate on not throwing up on him.

“You were so great in your interview!” Kelsey said as she led me to an elevator. “I wish I had time to give you a full tour of the building, but the reception has already started. As you saw, this floor has the lobby, along with the theater for the runway shows and the production offices. The third floor is what we call the Loft, where you’ll be staying with the other designers for the next few weeks. There’s also a lounge area on the roof. And right now we’re going to the second floor, where you’ll find the design room, the fabric room, and the hair and makeup rooms. Most of the other designers should be waiting there already!”

Acid rose up in my throat. The show was starting now. From here on out, just about every moment of my life would be filmed. Eating. Sleeping. Working. And even worse, I was about to meet my competition for the next few weeks while looking like a total wreck.

I tried to use my phone’s camera to do one last quick check of my hair and makeup, but Kelsey held out her hand with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to take your phone. You’re not allowed to have them while you’re on the show.”

I already knew this, but a shot of terror hit me at the thought of not having my phone for weeks. Contestants were completely cut off from the rest of the world, banned from leaving the building or having any outside contact—including Internet or TV.

I checked my email and texts and everything else real fast for that one last fix, then reluctantly handed my phone over to her. Immediately I considered grabbing it and making a run for it, but no—I was doing this. Even if giving up my phone felt like losing a chunk of my brain.

Once on the second floor, Kelsey led me past the closed doors of the design room to an adjacent breakroom. From the open doorway came the low buzz of conversation, but before I could get a glimpse of my future, Kelsey gave me a hug and wished me luck. I hadn’t realized we’d progressed that quickly in our friendship already, but hey, I could use all the luck I could get.