Her allure and panache leave me speechless. She exudes such self-confidence that she makes me want to emulate her radiant, happy vibe. I now get why Jake loves to hang out with her; I’d love to follow her around, too.
“You must be Clementine. I’m Adelina.” She reaches out to shake my hand. I’m in awe of her raw beauty and style. “Jake told me all about you, sweetie. Love what you’re wearing. That vintage dress is superb. Where’d you find it?”
“Artists & Fleas at the Chelsea Market,” I say. I picked it up while shopping with Maddie the weekend before I started school.
“Oh, really? That’s my second home. Can’t believe you snatched it before I did,” she adds in perfect deadpan. I begin to laugh and Jake looks on proudly, seeing that his two besties have similar taste in fashion and are getting along famously.
“I love what you’re wearing,” I tell her. “So elegant and chic.”
“That would be moi,” Jake chimes in.
“Wow, this is amazing work, Jake. Now I know why you got that scho—”
He cuts me off. “Shhhh!”
“Right, sorry.”
“It’s okay, Adelina knows. She can totally be trusted. It’s the other students I’m worried about,” he adds, looking around. There’s no need to worry, though; there’s only one other student in the room right now, sewing away behind a noisy machine.
Looking at Adelina’s ensemble, it’s obvious that Jake was meant to do this. He’s got talent up the wazoo.
“Adelina looks amazing.”
“Doesn’t she, though?” Jake walks toward her, kneels down, and gives her a big hug.
“It’s stunning. You are so talented, it’s crazy!” I gush.
“Why, thank you, madam,” he says with faux modesty and a flourish.
“You two make quite the pair,” I add, trying not to get jealous of their friendship again.
One thing’s for sure. My friend has found the perfect person to wear his clothes. Great design, savvy sales, and marketing skills clearly run in his genes (or jeans?).
“Do tell me more about your collection, sir,” I say playfully.
Jake puts on his best TV-interview voice. “It’s a line of fashionable and functional clothing created to make wheelchair users look and feel great. I’ve only created a couple of pieces, four to be exact, but I have plans for many more.”
“What are the key features of your collection?” I ask, pulling out my notebook to take notes for my blog.
“Our clothing has cuts and styles for a seated body, which fit better, look nicer, and feel more comfortable than standard mainstream clothing and don’t interfere with wheelchair mechanics.” He points to Adelina’s chair.
“Very impressive. Anything else you’d like to add? About the textiles, perhaps?”
“Ah, yes,” he answers, adjusting his hipster glasses. “We use quality fabrics selected for stretch and durability. Take a look: there’s much more here than meets the eye, with details like wrap-waist palazzo pants, an open-snap back, and an easy zipper. Our clothes are not only easier to get in and out of, but they also take ease of movement into consideration.”
“That’s for damn sure!” Adelina chimes in, throwing her hands in the air again while dancing in her chair. I don’t know what kind of music is playing in her mind but my guess is that it’s some kind of upbeat disco.
This is fantastic; Jake’s research and execution are flawless. And the print placement is impeccable. But more than anything, his idea of making attractive clothes that are wheelchair-friendly warms my heart.
“Wow, Jake. Can I be honest here? I’m really impressed. Like, big time.”
“I’m glad you like it, sweet pea. I also plan to donate 5 percent of our sales toward accessibility initiatives and social programs. Whaddya think?”
“I’m floored, très floored. What can I say? You rock, my friend.”
I’m clapping my hands above my head to show my support when the studio doors open and Jonathan walks in with his large camera bag and a huge grin on his face. I do a double take.
“We need a photographer to take pictures of Adelina for your blog, right?” says Jake.
“Mm-hmm …”
“Well, I found our man for the job, then. Sorry, I mean your man.”
Wow, another big surprise. I’m thrilled about Jake’s idea. I wish I’d thought of it first.
“I love to help out when I can,” Jonathan says, looking good in a denim shirt and washed-out grey jeans. This is a great surprise. He walks over to me, kisses me on the cheek, and shakes Jake’s hand, then Adelina’s, like a true gentleman.
Looking as excited as a child on Halloween night, Jake pulls out the entire contents of his chest: a shirt, wide-legged pants, and a wrap dress in blue and yellow cotton and silk. All of his pieces have the most exquisite details — a touch of lace here, a pearl button there.
“All right, let’s get to work and shoot these babies before the rest of my design classmates show up. They like to hog the place; it’s a miracle we have this studio all to ourselves right now.” Jake claps his hands, ignoring the lone student in the back, who hasn’t looked up from his machine once since we got here.
“Yeah, baby! Let’s shoot!” Adelina exclaims in a loud, rambunctious voice. We all burst into giggles. She really is a hoot. “Let’s get this photo session started. My Bloody Mary is waiting for me at the hotel bar,” she adds. She winks at Jake and he winks back.
“You’re welcome to join us for lunch later. I promised Adelina I’d take her out to thank her for her time here,” Jake says, looking at Jonathan and me.
Can this day be any more perfect? I think not.
There’s an Irish proverb about friendship: “A good friend is like a four-leaf clover, hard to find and lucky to have.” I’m learning that not only can I share my friends, I can make fabulous new ones in the process. And that is an important lesson to learn. I lift my (imaginary) glass to that.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I’m impressed, Clementine. What you and Jake are doing to promote diversity in fashion — I think it’s really progressive and smart,” Jonathan says, reaching for my hand. He runs his fingers through mine and I feel all tingly inside. My heart pounds a gazillion beats per minute. I’m on a major adrenaline high and I don’t want to come down. Like, ever.
“Thanks, that means a lot.”
We’re at Le Midi, the French bistro where we first met through Maddie. We thanked Jake for his generous lunch invitation but let him saunter off with Adelina. We didn’t want to impose so we decided to come back here. It’s like a reunion of sorts, but just the two of us this time — without Maddie as a chaperone. There are lots of Parsons teachers sitting around us so I try to act professional and limit my displays of affection, although I fantasize about pushing the bottle of Perrier out of the way and making out with Jonathan right here, right now.
“I wasn’t expecting you to drop in this morning. It sure added excitement to the moment,” I say.
“I had so much fun taking photos of Adelina. She’s a riot. And you really got into it, acting as Jake’s assistant, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I loved playing his number two. Isn’t he awesome? I think Jake is super special.”
“Absolutely. Just like you,” Jonathan says, and I want to melt in my seat. He runs his fingers softly along the inside of my palms and I am burning up inside. I find myself falling for him more and more every time we meet.
My romantic thoughts are interrupted when Jonathan nods toward the back of the restaurant.
“Friend of yours?” he asks. I turn around and catch Ellie staring at us from behind a large textbook. When our eyes meet, she looks away. Not again. What’s with her? A part of me feels frustrated by our lack of privacy and wants to stand up and leave. The other, more rebellious side decides it’s better to stay. I’m not going t
o let my classmates get to me more than they already have.
I decide to take a different approach and tell Jonathan I need to use the ladies room. I need to find out why Ellie keeps popping up everywhere I go and looking at me that way. I can’t take it anymore; it’s getting way too creepy. I stop beside her table.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Ellie?” I ask, gritting my teeth. “You’re not one to hold back, so don’t be shy.”
“Um, no. Why?”
“Every time I turn around, there you are, staring. In the fabric store, in the cafeteria, and now here. Are you stalking me? What have I done to you?”
“Nothing. It’s just a coincidence, I swear,” she says sheepishly. I detect some insincerity in her voice, but it’s clear that’s all she’s going to say.
As I walk away, I focus on Jonathan’s remark about our project being progressive. It reminds me of an article from the New York Times that my father had me read before I left for school. It was called “What’s So Scary About Smart Girls?” The writer’s answer holds a dear place in my heart: “There’s no force more powerful to transform society.” I just wish girls would act with more civility and respect toward each other.
Once in the ladies room, I wash my hands and forget about Ellie. I look in the mirror proudly. It’s such a great feeling to be involved in the evolution of fashion, to become an agent of change. Although the fashion industry is evolving slowly, things are moving in the right direction. I’m happy to be here and a part of it all.
“I’m ready to do it again if you guys need me to take any more pictures,” Jonathan says as soon as I take my seat. “Working with Jake was a real treat. I wish other fashion brands would broaden their perspectives and hire more models like Adelina. I think he’ll be making a huge impact on the business and I’m happy to contribute any way I can.”
“Really? That’s amazing. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled and grateful.”
“Just name the time and place and I’ll be there. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.” He pokes my nose playfully. “Besides, this will be fantastic for my portfolio,” he says, reaching for the pepper. “Should we order some wine to celebrate the launch of Bonjour Girl ?” he asks, and I hesitate. The truth is I’d love to spend all afternoon with him drinking wine, but I have lots of homework to do.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stick to sparkling water. I have lots on my plate.”
He points to my barely touched roast chicken. “You sure do,” he says jokingly before digging into his steak frites.
“I blame you for that. You make me hungry for something else,” I say, reaching for a french fry.
He laughs.
“So, did you contact my lawyer friend?” he asks between bites.
“No, not yet. I’ll call her if I need to. So what time are we meeting tonight?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Oh, right …” he says, looking out of sorts. He looks away.
I feel uneasy and queasy … what’s that about?
“I’m really sorry Clementine, but I have to work.” He reaches for my hand again but this time I don’t let him get to it so easily. I’m disappointed.
“Did something come up last minute?”
“Yes, it’s Fashion Week, remember? I didn’t have that many bookings, and finally something came through just now. I’d ask you to join me but it would be distracting and counterproductive. I hope you understand. Let’s get together on Sunday. There’s this quaint French restaurant in the Village with a roaring fireplace I’d love to take you to. It’ll be just perfect.”
I try to keep things in perspective. Come on, Clementine, don’t overreact. It’s just a change of plans. I’m about to accept his dinner invitation when I hear the faint ping of my phone. Here we go again. I peer discreetly at my cell, which I’ve placed on top of my handbag, and I immediately regret reading it.
My stomach drops, my face turns as white as the tablecloth, and I begin to shake. I’m going to lose my french fries. I want the floor to swallow me up right here in the middle of Le Midi bistro.
@ClementineL’s blog, Bonjour Girl, is a total fake-ass disaster. Don’t bother reading it. It’s a waste of your precious time.
OUCH. That really hurts. I feel a sharp pain in my stomach; it’s a combination of embarrassment, shame, and fear. I should have seen this coming. I change my mind. I need to a) have that glass of red wine, b) contact Jonathan’s lawyer friend, and c) find a way to stop the cycle of hell.
Fashion school is full of glitz and glam and much hoopla. But sometimes it has a dark side. And I’m about to go to war against it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Just because you’re angry doesn’t mean you have the right to be cruel. A lady is never cruel …
This is one of the pearls of wisdom I read in Cécile’s etiquette book. The truth is I want to respond nastily to Stella, say something really harsh because I’m hurting inside. When will her cruelty end? Should I file a harassment complaint? All I know is that my heart can’t take this anymore. I feel depleted and weak.
I show Jonathan the tweet. I need help deciding what to do.
His eyes bulge. He looks really pissed off and he pounds his first on the small bistro table, making our neighbours stare.
He grabs my phone from the table and takes a screen shot of the tweet. “Evidence … you’ll need it.”
“Right.” I’m glad he thought of it. I’m still too much in shock to even think about these things.
“You can’t let this go on, Clementine. I’m not going to sit here and watch Stella destroy your reputation. You need to consult with my friend. It’s non-negotiable. I want you to call her today.”
I respond with a tepid half-smile. “Okay.” I was so happy about all the positive feedback I got on my blog in the last twenty-four hours, and then our shoot this morning — now this feels like a bucket of ice-cold water. But what I am supposed to do with a lawyer? Sue Stella? The news will spread like wildfire at school and make me look like the villain. I feel trapped.
“Stephanie might have some ideas. She’s super smart,” Jonathan says after taking a sip of water. The way he says this makes me feel uneasy. I’m feeling really insecure right now and I hate this feeling.
He notices the sadness in my eyes. “You can’t let Stella get you down. What you need to do is get her where it hurts …” he says, his voice trailing off. I can tell his mind is spinning. “Doesn’t she own some kind of business?”
“Uh-huh. Fashion decals. It does brilliantly well apparently,” I say, showing him Stella’s company’s Instagram profile with close to a hundred thousand followers. I’m disgusted.
“Maybe she uses unethical business practices to get clients and followers. Have you thought of that? It sounds as though she’s capable of anything.”
“I guess …” The thought of doing research about my nemesis’s business makes me want to gag. “I’m not sure where to look.”
“The beginning is always a good place.” He winks.
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“Maybe she’s guilty of the exact thing she’s accusing you of …” he says, like a private investigator with a hot tip.
“Wow. I never thought of that. You’re brilliant!” I say, grateful for the advice. This man really does have everything.
I move in closer and our noses practically touch now. I lower my voice to match his whisper. “The investigation is officially under way. And it’ll be conducted with tact, class, and style.” I slip on my Ray-Bans and look down over the top of them to add a faux air of mystery and Jonathan laughs at my silly move. He pokes my nose playfully. I stare at his lips — those luscious lips. For a brief instant, I forget about the bullying.
Just when we’re about to kiss, a booming voice I recognize comes through from the street. I turn my head and see Jake st
anding at the restaurant window holding his iPhone high above his head. There are drops of sweat trickling down his forehead and both sides of his face. He looks flushed and out of breath and he’s using his purple silk scarf as a mouchoir to wipe his face. I already know what this is about. I guess he interrupted his own lunch date to come and alert me.
“OMG, CLEM, THE FREAKING BITCH IS AT IT AGAIN! Can you believe this crap?” he shouts, and I want to run into the kitchen and hide. Now the entire bistro knows about my predicament and every customer’s appetite has been killed. Au secours.
“What are we going to do about this?” Jake is still shouting across the room.
I can feel the awkward silence fall upon the room as dozens of eyes stare at me, including Ellie’s. Mortified, my face turns a deep burgundy. This is quite à propos; my French heritage kicks in and I turn to Jonathan to ask the only logical question under these circumstances.
“So, where’s that glass of red you offered?”
Being a lady is a state of mind. A lady is calm and never loses her cool. This is the direct result of her inner confidence. Confronted with a stressful situation, she always tries to maintain a state of grace …
Maintain a state of grace? After being bullied by Stella and embarrassed by Jake in the middle of a room filled with Parsons faculty? Nice try, Cécile, but it isn’t working.
I signal at Jake to stop shouting. I wish he’d be more discreet. But I remind myself of his intentions. I know he means well and it’s comforting to have a friend who cares about me so much.
Bonjour Girl Page 13
