Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing (18 page)

BOOK: Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing
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To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Wednesday, December 21 at 7:15 AM

Subject: RE: RE: Class

Dang, girl, you are still sewing at 2:30 in the morning? So we are sticking with the scheduled time, thank you. Yowza, a personal sewing session with THE Miss Scarlet? Um, YES, I will take you up on your offer. I’m supposed to cover for my coworker at the bookstore tonight, but I’ll get out of it (don’t blog this!), LOL. See you at five! Here is my cell if anything changes. 555-978-0126.

O.

P.S. You haven’t blogged lately. Don’t forget about your readers!

 

 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Wednesday, December 21 at 9:00 PM

Subject: Where were you?

Went to the record store at five to find an anime drawing class going on in our classroom. We waited for twenty minutes. Marco didn’t know anything about our meeting, but he allowed me to stay with Missy and let her take the class for free so I guess it worked out. Wish you had called. Hope everything is OK and nothing happened. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at our field trip to the art museum. At 4 p.m.

O.

 

 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Wednesday, December 21 at 11:47 PM

Subject: RE: Where were you?

Olivia—I am SO sorry! I didn’t enter our meeting in my iPhone calendar and I spaced it. Carly offered me a double shift today (time-and-a-half!). I just barely got home. Would have called right now but I thought you might be in bed. I’ll make it up to you, promise. We’ll work it out tomorrow. Please accept my apology! And yes, tomorrow’s class is at 4 p.m. at the museum. I promise to be on time!

Scarlet

P.S. Hope to blog soon!

 
14
 

 

E
ver since Scarlet came up with the idea for the patternless sewing class, she knew it would include a sketching lesson at her favorite inspiration spot—the Phoenix Art Museum’s Ellman Fashion Design Gallery.

Scarlet had plenty of motivation, but any time she needed to conceptualize, she zipped over to the gallery. Located in the heart of the city’s landmark museum, the collection showcased more than 4,500 garments dating back as far as the eighteenth century.

She visited at least twice a month to inspect each outfit on display. She discreetly snapped pictures and took notes. Her mind wandered through clouds of cream-colored taffeta, skipped along highways paved with chiffon, and got lost in a sea of buttons and brocade.

The ultimate highlight came at the end of the exhibit: the display of an original Daisy de la Flora gown. Scarlet had seen it more than a hundred times, and it always took her breath away. The masterpiece consisted of a floor-length, asymmetrical fishtail gown covered in muted black sequins and trimmed in rows of black crystals around the bodice. Created in 1967 and sold to Sophia Loren in the mid-1990s, the monochromatic piece
stood out because it was the only time in Daisy’s career that she didn’t use her usual rainbow palette. According to Wikipedia, when Daisy’s husband, Sebastian Garcia-Ybarra, unexpectedly died from appendicitis, she created the outfit to wear to his funeral, and designed it around her favorite bejeweled ring.

Scarlet couldn’t wait to surprise the class. She knew the up-close-and-personal Daisy experience would increase their passion for fashion.

The only setback: her schedule. For the past two weeks Scarlet had shown up late to class, each time promising not to let it happen again. Yet today she was already nearly an hour late, thanks to the holiday traffic on Central Avenue. With less than a week to go until Christmas, everyone’s nerves were on edge. So the second she realized she’d be tardy, she phoned Rosa and asked her to lead the tour at the museum.

Rosa didn’t mind; in fact, she enjoyed feeling valued simply for her personality and expertise, no strings attached. But Scarlet’s recent behavior concerned her. The girl was so bent on raising her Johnny Scissors tuition that she was beginning to stretch herself too thin. She had doubled her workload and she’d become a bit too loose with the term “patternless” in class, encouraging the ladies to “wing it” on their garments. Olivia, Stephanie, and Jennifer’s projects were a complete failure, and Scarlet didn’t even offer to help, because she had to leave at three p.m. for a freelance alteration.

There was an expression that Joseph had once told Rosa: “The bigger the wall, the thinner the paint.” It reminded her of Daisy de la Flora in her early days, when she put work before her relationships. And there were hints that the usually put-together Scarlet might be headed in the same direction. Rosa planned to pay close attention to see how Scarlet would handle herself under these stressful conditions.

Ten minutes before class was to start, Joseph dropped Rosa off in front of the Phoenix Art Museum. Rosa climbed out of the PT Cruiser and buttoned the collar of her lime overcoat. And like she did every time before a big event, she popped a piece of spearmint Trident in her mouth. She made her way up the museum’s shallow staircase to the entrance, holding tight to the railing.

When she reached the top, she stopped to appreciate the artful reflecting pool and the ripples of water cascading down its tiered black tiles. She did a double-take when she caught sight of her reflection in the liquid mirror. The image she saw wasn’t her as an old woman, but rather as she had been in her prime—shiny curls, a silky red dress, and a flower behind her ear. The scene made Rosa giggle and turn to the side to pose. But when she glanced again, there were two other transparent-like women at her side. She shivered and hurried to enter the museum, where she found Mary Theresa, Jennifer, Stephanie, and Olivia, with her daughter, Missy, buying their admission tickets.

“Scarlet’s going to be a bit late today,” Rosa said, collecting her nerves. “I’ll cover and do my best to fill her stilettos. It will be you, me, and two hundred and three thousand square feet of museum goodness to explore!”

The group breezed through a few of the museum’s exhibitions before they finally reached the Fashion Design Gallery.

“I love Scarlet, and I know she’s hustlin’ these days, but she can’t keep showing up late especially during Christmas week,” Olivia commented as the class meandered through the first half of the displays. “The only reason I’m here is because I’m a fan. I don’t want to look at old clothes. I appreciate her struggle, but I have a life too.”

No one acknowledged the gripes out loud, but Rosa witnessed the other women nod in agreement. She tried to change the subject.

“If you truly want to learn the art of sewing, you need to become educated on the masters,” Rosa lectured in a professional manner.

“Hi-dee-ho, my lovelies!” Scarlet sang out as she hot-stepped it into the gallery. She inhaled the sweet smell of vintage fashion and met the hard stares of her students. With her hands crossed over her chest, she apologized. “This is the last time I’ll be tardy, swear on my pinking shears. Carly’s most loyal customer had a last-minute seam emergency. Can you believe the little minx ordered her dress a size too small? I had to take the whole thing apart and stitch it back together this afternoon!”

“We don’t care about the Carly’s customer, Scarlet,” Olivia said. “We care about you. Have you seen a mirror lately? You have bags under those peepers of yours. You better slow down before you lose your head. Or your fans.”

“Aside from being embarrassed for being late and missing our appointment the other night, I’m swell,” Scarlet said as she opened the front clasp of her chunky gold Lucite purse and retrieved a small rectangular packet. She ripped it open with her teeth and tapped the coarse black powder onto her tongue. “Whoo! Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Now let’s get this soiree a snappin’!”

“What did you just eat?” Mary Theresa asked with a cringe.

“Instant coffee! It works faster, lasts longer, plus saves me money and time.”

Mary Theresa didn’t go for it. “Wrong, Scarlet. That’s very dangerous. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

“Every night. And it’s just like eating chocolate-covered espresso beans, without the chocolate. It helps me keep the pep in my step,” she said with dilated pupils. She raised her hand in a grand gesture and waved her class along. “This way, my chickadees.”

They made their way to Daisy’s display, and everyone crowded around to see. Everyone except Rosa, who stood at the back of the group, speechless.

A large framed paparazzi photo of Daisy rested on a black lacquer easel next to the mannequin. The shot was of her wearing the glamorous dress as she exited the church of her husband’s funeral service in Miami, Florida.

Jennifer hovered for a closer view. “She looks like a movie star.”

Rosa’s blood pressure rose and she rubbed her wrinkly neck with her hands. “Let’s go outside now; I’m feeling a little clammy.”

“Wow, get a load of that honking ring!” Stephanie exclaimed, pointing at Daisy’s hand in the photo. Jennifer and Olivia leaned in to admire it too. “You girls are missing out; look at this!” they told the others.

Rosa took a brief glance at the photo and almost swallowed her gum. She didn’t have the strength in her bones for this kind of surprise today. She needed fresh air—and to clear these women out of the room, quick. Right then, a knight in shining armor arrived….

“Marco!” Rosa said, suddenly uplifted. Scarlet’s eyes lit up too.

“This is a surprise,” Scarlet said. “What brings you here? Did you miss us?”

He handed her two heavy Vega’s Vicious Vinyl plastic bags and whispered in her ear. “You left the sketchbooks in the sewing room and I knew you needed them today.”

“Oh, thank you! Seriously,” Scarlet said softly back to him. “You always save the day, don’t you?”

He shrugged and smiled. “It’s cool.”

All of a sudden, the concentrated caffeine lost its magic.
Scarlet felt zapped of all her energy and spirit. Maybe she did need a nap. “We’re going to grab a snack from the cafe. Do you have time to stick around?” she asked Marco.

Rosa slipped her arm through his, relieved that the attention had moved away from the Daisy dress. “Of course he does!”

BOOK: Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing
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