Passion for Fashion

by Coleen McLoughlin

  “Moths and that,” Dad repeated.

  “Fluttery grey and black cobwebby stuff,” I explained.

  “Plenty of that in the corners of your bedroom ceiling, Coleen,” Mum murmured from behind her cup of tea.

  “Evening will be all glitter and sequins, and night could be…” I stopped. I hadn’t exactly worked out night.

  “Duvets?” Dad suggested.

  “Da…ad!” I wailed, pushing him as Mum and Em started laughing. “You never take me seriously!”

  “Believe me, Col,” said Dad with a grin, “I do.”

  He gathered me in and kissed me on the top of my head.

  It’s hard to stay mad at him when he does that.

  “Whatever you come up with,” Dad said as he released me, “we’ll all be in the front row of this fashion show, cheering you on. But promise me something.”

  He looked so serious that I felt worried for a moment. “What?” I asked.

  Dad’s eyes twinkled. “Promise you won’t forget your poor old dad when you get famous.”

  I laughed, relieved. “Don’t be daft,” I said. “But you know what I’d really like?”

  “A palace with a garden full of cantering white ponies,” said Dad promptly.

  Em giggled.

  “I’d really like to design the clothes as well as model them,” I said in a rush. “That would be…” I stopped because I couldn’t think of a word gorgeous enough.

  “I think you might actually explode with excitement if you did that,” said Dad. “So maybe it’s not such a good idea. I don’t fancy sweeping up the bits.”

  “Gross, Dad!” Em squealed.

  “Who’s for a chocolate biscuit?” Mum said, flipping the kettle on for another cup of tea and reaching into the cupboard to take out the biscuit barrel.

  “Me!” Em and I both shouted at the same time, pouncing on the tin.

  “I don’t think so, Col,” said Em cheekily, snatching my biscuit and stuffing her face with it. “Chocolate is sooo bad for a model’s figure…”

  That night, my dreams were full of rainbow silks and sequinned ribbons. For once, I couldn’t wait to pull on my uniform and run for the bus.

  A huge black four-by-four roared up the road past me, choking me with the stink of petrol fumes. Coughing, I looked up to see Summer Collins’ stupid face grinning at me out of the tinted back window. Summer’s dad always drove her to school, like maybe his baby’s legs weren’t up to running for the bus like the rest of us.

  What if Summer Collins gets to model all the cool stuff in the show and you get something tacky? a sneaky little voice whispered in my mind.

  Coleen, I said firmly to myself, drowning out the sneaky voice, when it comes down to it, you will get something great to wear. And even if you don’t, you’ll work your special magic and make it look so hot that the catwalk will sizzle!

  Feeling better for my little pep talk, I decided to try out my model walk the last few yards to the bus stop. Walking with a wiggle really makes you feel good. Except when you trip over a Coke can and land flat on your face at the last minute, just as the bus pulls into the stop and half of your school laughs themselves sick out of the windows. That stinks.

  From his usual seat opposite Ben, Dave Sheekey cheered as I sat down next to Lucy and Mel and tried to sort out my bruised knee and injured pride.

  “Don’t worry about him,” said Lucy comfortingly. “He’s an idiot. I don’t know what my brother sees in him.”

  I took several deep breaths and imagined Dave Sheekey wearing a really bad pair of pants and nothing else. It cheered me up immediately.

  Mel’s next words, however, brought me flat to the pavement with my nose inches from that Coke can again.

  “Mum says I can’t do the modelling,” she said, staring at her knees.

  “WHAT?” I screeched, horrified. Lucy put a comforting arm around Mel’s shoulders. “But why?”

  “She says modelling ‘objectifies young girls’, if you want her exact words,” Mel sighed.

  “But that’s crazy!” I spluttered. “Couldn’t you persuade her to let you do it, just this once?”

  “You know what my mum’s like,” said Mel. “Once she has an idea in her head, she sticks to it like gum.”

  I gawped at my best mate. This was awful! This was worse than awful!

  “It won’t be the same if you aren’t modelling in the show too,” I gasped. “There must be some way of persuading her—”

  “Believe me,” Mel interrupted me sadly, “there isn’t. And talking about it isn’t helping, OK? Mum won’t let me model, and that’s that. Can we talk about something else now?”

  Three

  Gutted just doesn’t come near how bad I felt for Mel. She hardly said a word during PE that morning. Given that you can’t usually shut Mel up, that was extremely weird. Every time me or Lucy asked her anxiously if she was OK, she muttered “Fine” and rushed off to the next piece of gym equipment like her shorts were on fire. It was like she didn’t even want to be near us, because we were going to be in the fashion show and she wasn’t.

  “We have to do something, Lu,” I said urgently as we lined up at the climbing wall.

  “I know,” said Lucy, biting her lip. “It’s not normal seeing Mel so sad.”

  “What if we wrote her mum a letter?” I said.

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Behind Mel’s back? No way.”

  Lucy was right. I tried again.

  “We have to talk to Mel’s mum ourselves then, and see if we can make her change her mind,” I said. “Can we go over after school this week?” I was struck by a brainwave. “A sleepover!” I said eagerly. “That’ll give us plenty of time to talk Mel’s mum round!”

  “Great idea,” said Lucy. “But you should be asking Mel, not me.”

  Mel walked past, her head bowed.

  “Mel…” I started.

  “Later, Coleen, yeah?” Mel said, not looking at me as she ran towards the tumbling mats.

  Mel couldn’t avoid us forever. Lucy and I perfected our plan in time for break. And then we cornered her by the snack machine.

  “Please don’t start,” Mel begged as I opened my mouth. “Don’t you think I’ve been going crazy about this? You’re not helping, Coleen – honest you’re not. Mum won’t change her mind!”

  “Quit being such a wuss,” I snapped. I was getting quite angry now. “Come on, Mel! This isn’t like you. You’re rolling over before the fight’s even begun! Lucy and I have a plan. We just want you to listen, OK?”

  “Like there’s a choice,” Mel muttered.

  She didn’t look like she was going to break into a run, so Lucy and I grabbed her, steered her towards a chair and sat down on either side of her, like prison guards or something.

  “Why don’t we have a sleepover at yours this weekend?” I began.

  “We could put on a mini catwalk show for your mum,” Lucy said, watching Mel nervously.

  “I’ll bring round some great accessories, and we’ll all dress up and have a fab time,” I said. “We’ll show your mum how fun a catwalk show can really be.”

  “A sleepover?” said Mel slowly. “We haven’t had one of those in ages.”

  Lucy and I looked at each other in excitement. Mel liked our plan!

  “It’ll be totally brilliant,” I said, feeling enthusiastic all over. “Lucy will do the soundtrack. We might even get your mum to dress up in something too!”

  “Mum does have some pretty cool outfits,” Mel said. “She’s kept loads of stuff from the eighties in the back of her wardrobe. She might even let us borrow some.”

  “Oh Mel,” I said happily, pulling my friend into a big squashy hug. “It’s so great to see you smiling again.”

  “And even if your mum doesn’t change her mind about the school fashion show, we’ll still have a great time,” Lucy added.

  Mel had her old positive face on again. “Who knows what Mum’ll say by the time we’ve finished?” she said mischievously. �
�Pigs can fly – sometimes. Erm…maybe?”

  Somehow, the rest of the week zoomed by. Em had an after-school football match on the Wednesday that we all went along to watch. Then I had to walk Rascal after tea and believe me, I did some walking. I was literally dragged to the park on my knees. Then Nan came over for tea on the Thursday. Finally, I was so busy planning which accessories I was going to take for Friday’s sleepover at Mel’s that I didn’t even rise to Em’s teasing about how I might end up wearing hideous purple dungarees at the school fashion show.

  I have a billion and one accessories. They drive Mum mad, because most of the time they are scattered around the house. You know – a scarf draped over the post at the bottom of the stairs, an earring under the settee – that kind of thing. But accessories are brilliant – and they’re cheap, too. You can make the same old tee look totally different: dress it up one day with a red patent belt, then dress it down the next with a bunch of funky badges. Ta-da!

  By the time Friday came, I had whittled my accessory selection down to four boxes. Then, remembering that I was going straight to Mel’s after school that day and would have to carry everything on the bus, I reluctantly cut it down to an extra rucksack and a carrier bag. But hey – those two bags carried some serious fashion power!

  Mel and Lucy helped me carry everything from the bus stop on Friday afternoon, all the way up the stairs to Mel’s place on the third floor, along with my rucksack of pyjamas and clean clothes for the next day. By the time we reached number thirty-six, I was feeling quite glad that I hadn’t brought four boxes after all.

  I like Mel’s place. Her mum has painted it bright colours, and there are gauzy scarves hanging over all the lamps that make you feel like you are in Aladdin’s cave or something. Her mum has a thing about elephants too. They are everywhere. Little ones standing on the window sills. Big ones printed on the cushions. There’s pictures of elephants on the walls too, and – get this – even an elephant-shaped sponge in the bathroom!

  “OK,” said Mel. “Let’s get ourselves a drink first. What would you like?” She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. “Looks like we’ve got orange juice, or there’s Coke too.”

  “Er, Coke for me,” I said, smiling as the Palmers’ cat, Tiggy, jumped on to the work surface and haughtily arched her back into a stretch.

  “Oh Tigs, you know you’re not meant to be up there,” Mel groaned.

  “Don’t worry,” I laughed, stroking Tiggy’s back and tickling him behind the ears. “I’ve got him.” And grabbing the little ginger cat tight, I followed Mel and Lucy down the corridor into Mel’s bedroom.

  “So Coleen,” said Mel as she slumped down on to the bed, “what have you got for us?”

  “Well, why don’t you take Tigs,” I said, handing the cat over to Lucy and grabbing what I’d brought, “and I’ll show you. You are going to totally freak when you see what I’ve got.”

  I tipped out my stuff on to the bed. Mel and Lucy pounced on my bright, twinkling collection of goodies.

  “I love these,” Mel said, twirling around with a pair of long blue glass earrings. “How do they look?”

  “They’ll look brilliant when we’ve done your hair,” I said. “Do you think your mum would lend us some of her stuff for our show?”

  Mel looked nervous. “I haven’t really mentioned the catwalk thing to her yet,” she said.

  Me and Lucy goggled at our mate.

  “Your mum doesn’t know?” I repeated.

  Mel pleated her bedcover between her fingers. “She’s been really tired lately, and she’s really dead set against models and catwalks. I thought maybe – we could do it as a surprise?”

  “Looks like we’ll have to,” I said. Suddenly, I was feeling as nervous as Mel looked. What if Mrs Palmer got really mad at us?

  The next minute, I forgot my worries as Mel took us down the hall to her mum’s bedroom and went to her wardrobe. “Ta-da!” she announced as she pulled open the door.

  I almost fell over. The cupboard was totally crammed with colour. A yellow jacket. An emerald green dress. Red and blue and white printed blouses, and shimmery purple and blue trousers.

  “The eighties are so in right now!” I said, grabbing an orange jersey dress off the rail and holding it up against myself. I knew immediately that the long blue glass earrings would go perfectly!

  “Mum’s getting back at five-thirty today,” said Mel as Lucy tried on a pair of bright blue skinny trousers. “Why don’t we get everything ready and surprise her with the show as soon as she comes through the door?”

  We spent the next hour working out which outfits to choose – there were so many fantastic things. In the end, my accessory selection made the choices for us. My peacock-feather necklace screamed to go with the emerald green dress. The orange jersey dress got the blue earrings, and the yellow jacket looked super-cool with a thick black patent belt around the middle.

  Lucy rushed around the living room, getting everything ready for the show and choosing the music. She chose something with a soft, pulsing beat that perfectly matched a steady model wiggle. Then we all got changed.

  We were just putting the last layer of lip gloss on when we heard keys in the front door. We gulped and looked at each other. Was this really going to work?

  “It’s now or never,” Mel muttered, and she pushed me through the bedroom door.

  We teetered down the corridor in our high heels and peeped around the corner as Mel’s mum came in. She looked tired, and her shapeless black coat made me think of an old horse blanket.

  “Hi, Mum!” said Mel in an extra-bright voice. “Go into the living room and sit down!”

  “I won’t say no to a nice sit-down,” Mel’s mum said with a smile, putting down her bag. “But what’s going on, Mel?”

  Mel took a deep breath. “Well, we’re putting on a fashion show for you,” she said. “Just here in our living room.”

  “A fashion show?” Mel’s mother frowned. My heart sank.

  “Come on, Mum,” said Mel encouragingly. “You haven’t even seen it yet. Just give us a chance.”

  “All right, all right.” Mel’s mother sat down wearily and took off her coat.

  I can’t help it. I just zoom in on clothes like a moth to a candle. Mel’s mum had a good figure. She was tall, and had curves in all the right places. But she was wearing this shapeless black bin-liner thing that clung in all the wrong places. I couldn’t help wondering why she didn’t wear the jewel-like colours we were about to model up and down the living room any more.

  Just then, Lucy poked her head around the corner and pointed the remote at the music system in the living room. The music swelled.

  “Welcome to our show, which we have called the New Eighties!” Mel announced from the hallway. “First off, we have Coleen, with a fresh new bite on an old favourite. Take it away!”

  Mel’s mum’s mouth dropped open as I swung in, my hands on my hips.

  “That’s never my old jacket!” she said.

  I don’t think she’d ever seen her yellow jacket worn with such va-va-voom before. It was like a mini-dress on me. As well as the patent belt, I’d teamed it with dark green tights and my favourite strappy shoes, not to mention a great pair of gold earrings.

  “For your second course,” Mel continued, “we have raspberries and cream over chocolate – mmm, take it away Lucy!”

  Giggling with embarrassment as she tripped over a pair of shoes that were a bit too big for her, Lucy walked into the living room. Her red and white printed blouse billowed out over a low-slung cowboy belt and Mel’s chocolate-coloured jeans.

  “My blouse!” Mel’s mother gasped. “I’d forgotten what a great pattern that is!”

  “And for dessert,” Mel said, swinging smoothly into the room in the emerald green dress, “we have peacock pie!” She picked up the peacock pendant and twiddled it around her fingers as her mum laughed in amazement.

  I had dashed out of the room as soon as I’d finished my tu
rn in the yellow jacket, returning in the shimmery purple trousers and a little purple tee with my favourite orange and silver scarf tied around the middle just as Mel finished twirling the peacock pendant.

  Lucy had decided that she would only model one outfit. Now she turned up the volume on the next song, and was singing the words gently in the background as I pirouetted back out to the hallway and Mel bounced in wearing the blue glass earrings and the orange jersey dress over the pair of electric blue trousers.

  Mel’s mum was shaking her head like she had water in her ears as Mel and I returned one last time, me wearing a full-length red dress and a pirate bandana of pink silk, and Mel in tight orange leggings and a mint-green batwing top. Lucy crooned the last words to the song, and all three of us danced together as the music faded away.

  “Well?” Mel asked her mum eagerly, when we had our breath back. “Did you enjoy it, Mum?”

  “Unbelievable,” her mum said, looking dazed. “All those clothes – you took me right back! I’d forgotten…You updated everything, girls! It all looked so different!”

  “It’s amazing what you can do with a few accessories, Mrs Palmer,” I said quickly, and took Mel’s hand. “The school fashion show is going to be really good fun – just like tonight! You didn’t think we were being objectified, did you?”

  “And the clothes are going to be sold for charity,” Lucy added. “So it’s doing good too.”

  Mel took a deep breath. “I know you said you’d made up your mind, Mum,” she said, “but is there any way you could maybe – unmake it?”

  Mel’s mum smiled. “You three are impossible,” she said. She reached out to touch the beautiful red dress that I was wearing. “How can I resist?” she said at last. “You can do the show, Melanie. But I don’t want to see anything tarty or—”

  And then she disappeared under a pile of red, pink, mint-green, orange, red, white and chocolatebrown as me, Lucy and Mel all cheered and jumped on top of her.