“So,” Aunt Jan in a grin, quickly walked up next to me and Anne, “Is this where you girls hang out after school? Just...'chillin'?”
Looking up, Anne and I was a little shocked to see Aunt Jan in front of us. What was she doing here at school anyway?
“Oh don't look so shocked, darlings,” She cooed, “I'm here to pick you girls up.”
Aunt Jan? Anne and I looked a litle unsure. But we took our stuff anyway, our headphones over our necks and our books and bags in haywire mode.
“Can I help you with your things, my dear?” She turned her head back while she led the way.
“Uh, no it's alright, Aunt Jan, we can handle it,” I answered for the both of us.
Aunt Jan pulled open the trunk to her car; an old fading shade of yellow masked the car. Silver outlined the lights and the little figurine at the edge of the car. It was an old Jaguar, Mom used to tell Dave and I that. It looked sort of vintage in a way, looking a little like the typical '70's car.
Shutting the trunk as if she had killed the car, she walked forward to the driver's seat saying, “Well come on in girls.”
I guess that statement was already called for anyway because Anne and I simply stood on the pavement, watching Aunt Jan and the car. Well, the car, mostly. It was as if the most horrid thing we'd ever seen; the dorr handles were tainted and rusty, and the windows looked as if it had never been washed in decades. It felt almost predictable just looking at it. The seats looked brown and fluffy and soft; just the kind that would let dust bunnies settle on it. And the shade of the yellow itself, with the constant stains of wet rain on every surface, reeked of the need for washing.
A small agreement was made between Anne and I to see who would go in first. But I went in finally when I noticed Aunt Jan just about to notice us squabbling over coming in to the car; there was no way I wanted to hurt Aunt Jan's feelings. Mom was pretty fierce about that; since Aunt Jan was her eldest sister, and, along with 2 other siblings, had always taken care of Mom even when the rest of the other siblings were too busy (back then they were a pretty big family). Mom simply wanted to repay the kindness; and since Aunt Jan was single and aging nearly 75, Mom was sure Aunt Jan would need some help in some form of way. She even tried to persuade Aunt Jan to live with us, but Aunt Jan was firm in staying where she was.
“Nothing like home, May,” She always said when Mom tried to persuade.
It was pretty funny to hear everyone of Mom's siblings. They were all named from all months of the year. But when the 13th (the youngest and 5 years Mom's junior) was born, our grandfather had run out of names and was forced to give a name after his; Edgar Whit with the added, 'The Second'. So every time Aunt Jan and Mom, they always laughed about Edgar. They claimed Uncle Edgar was always so clumsy. It made no change to what I thought about him; Dave and I thought him to be the most loving uncle, the best actually, who never seemed to tire of us.
Landing hard and fast on the seats wasn't a very wise thing to do; dust bunnies, as expected, arose almost immediately to fill our noses. Sneezing and coughing as we both dragged ourselves in to the car, Aunt Jan took no notice of that except to have us put on the seatbelts.
An instant urge to rebel and claim that Dad never ever forced us to put them on, was rising but I kept my mouth shut anyway as Aunt Jan looked on at us as we strapped the seatbelts on; she wouldn't drive until we were finished.
“Another project tonight, girls?” A high pitched voice creaked sharply into our ears.
“Uh yeah, Aunt Jan...we haven't quite finished it yet.” I answered, pinching my nose from inhaling the flying dusts.
A cold awkward silence took place and the ride home was far from comfortable; Aunt Jan hit the brakes every second she could. Time to time we'd all be thrown forward because she hit the brakes at full strength. When we finally reached home, Aunt Jan had Anne and I out of the car before she pulled over at the garage. Dizzy and holding our heads with our fingers, massaging to cure the headaches, we headed upstairs to my room to lie down for a while and take a moment to take a breather.
“How did she get her license?” Anne asked, not expecting any reply.
I groaned and pulled myself up, “Come on, we still have a lot to do before working on the History project again.”
“You mean YOUR History project...”She too scrambled to get up, “How did I drag myself into helping you anyway?”
I didn't answer her as I pulled every book from my bag pack.
“I wonder if Laura's coming later.” She reached for her bag.
“Is she?”
“Well, he brought her yesterday...there's no telling she wouldn't turn up today.”
I rolled my eyes, “Since when did he bring girls to project nights anyway?”
“I'm thinking...” Anne pretended to think real hard, “Since he actually has a girl to bring, maybe?”
I laughed, “Nice one.” I was about to go on when my notebook slipped out; the one I usually used when doodling for my next fashion idea.”
Anne immediately grabbed it and flipped through the pages,hoping for something new, “Please tell me you have some new creation...”
I didn't answer her. Instead I smiled as I sat on the chair and did my homework on the bed as a table.
“It's not that easy, you know.” I said,
“But your designs sure are incredible.” Anne replied.
“Thanks.”
“Ooh...” Anne showed me a page; the sketches of a long purple bare back dress with long sleeves and drapelike features in the front with diamond encrusted on each side of the shoulders, as if stapling the two sides of front and back together.
“I like this one.” She grinned, “What material are...” She turned to the next page and in midway sentence a swatch rolled open from being glued to the page, “This feels soft. How much did you get this swatch for? The last swatch you had for the green strapless dress cost a bundle.”
I shook my head, “Mrs. Johnson gave it to me for free...said they were extras from a new shirt she's been working on for a new client,” I stroked the swatch (which was soft and silky), “Pretty cool, right?”
Mrs. Johnson was the neighbourhood seamstress. She has the most extensive array of materials and studs needed for the clothes she makes. It's pretty cool watching her do her job; she sometimes lets me in to the back of the store and even explain to me the details about each and every material. She'd tell me the horrors of using a machine wash on silk, or the effects of water on suede and the pretty shine any leather shoes or wallet make when polished with a clean cloth. Cotton was always the preferred material but these days, variety was popular because people always wanted to be the 'belle of the ball'.
“I'll say.” Anne looked adoringly at the swatch, “What story did she tell you the last time you were there?”
“Something about Oscar de la Renta, I think,” I tried to recall as I looked back on my homework, “It was so long ago...there was something she said about being strong and bold...then there's her advice, that its smarter to learn from others mistakes than to make the same mistake...” I drew a line for a graph I supposed to sketch, “She was pretty upset about a wrong delivery when I went there.”
Anne chuckled, “Pretty exciting just talking to her, huh?” Not expecting any reply, “When did you draw this anyway? Why didn't you tell me about this yesterday when I asked you?”
“I guess it just didn't occur in my mind.” I looked up, “It's not memorable, anyway.”
“I don't see them here.” Anne flipped past every page of the sketchbook, “Wait, I see tear marks here. Emma, did you throw them away?”
“Yeah...yeah I remember now, I tossed it all out.”
Anne didn't reply after that. She put the sketchbook aside as she sat on the bed and got started on the homework. We did our homework in complete silence. But that didn't last long. Before too long, I played some songs from our favorite band as we continued finishing our homework.
“Isn't that Tobey?” Dave asked. Anne and I had planned to meet up with Tobey to finish the History project in the library when Dave asked to come along and walk with us; he had new assignments that needed him to do some research.
Anne and I turned to look at where Dave pointed at. There was Tobey, with Laura at the parking spot for bikes. Laura, with her fingers curled behind her and Tobey climbing out of the bike, were talking and laughing as they headed for the steps to the library. As Dave parted ways from Anne and I, we went along to the same spot.
“I'll come along with you.” Laura suddenly sat up to follow Tobey, who, 20 minutes into the silence of nothing else but work, volunteered for some research work which he claimed essential to the project.
Anne noticed me watching as they left, “You don't really like her, do you?”
“Well...” I thought for a minute and grinned, “Yes.”
I sat down to watch her scribble the title for the project, “Anne...” I asked, “Have you ever felt what its like to fall in love?”
“To have someone love you back?” Her eyebrows furrowed; I figured she thought it weird for me to bring it up out of the blue. But that didn't keep her from carefully making details to the big fonts.
“Sort of,” I mumbled as I fiddled with a magic marker in front of me.
“Well, it's not that exciting,” She raised and eyebrow motioned to Tobey and Laura who just about on their way back; talking and giggling for all to hear, “There's more to love than just romance.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how it is, don't you?” Anne sat up straight, “When you're with someone for a really long time, romance doesn't last for long. All too soon, you'll love that person in a much deeper way. And its more worth it that way. But most people don't understand this part, or rather, they don't want to.”
I stared at her, “You're right...sort of.”
“Seems pretty dumb to me actually, to waste my time for some 3rd rate guy now, when...”
“You could get a better one later on.” I grinned; completing her sentence. I knew her all too well.
She grinned and went back to work, “Sounds harsh, but they are facts after all.”
I smiled; laying my head comfortably on the table as Anne remarked just before Tobey and Laura came close, “Our friends wasting his time, Emma. I'd warn him...but would he listen?”
“NO!” We sang in unison. The sudden, steady entrance of Tobey and Laura was enough to tell all; they were officially a couple. And there was nothing Anne and I could do to warn our friend Tobey.
“What's going on?” Tobey couldn't stop the silly grin from forming on his face. The naïve little boy suddenly gained newfound confidence and eagerness to speak even more.
“Dear Tobey, dear, dear, Tobey,” Anne mocked him in pretense sadness. Then we both burst into laughter.
A small (almost unnoticable) dirty look from Laura (did she know we were talking about her?) caught our gaze and we stopped short from laughing any further.
“I've finished the title, Tobey,” Anne quickly changed the topic, “Here take a look.”
“That's real pretty, Anne,” Tobey admired the art. Then he called Laura: “Come take a look at this. Anne's the best when it comes to stuff like that.”
Anne grinned at me secretly as Laura came forward. She took a long look and agreed, though she didn't look particularly happy at the moment. I guess it has something to do with us bursting into laughter and not sharing the joke with her was probably the cause of suspicion that we were talking about her.
“Alright, how about this...soft electric blue leather for the outer lining and apricot lambskin for the inside?” Anne suddenly popped a question as we were walking back, “And studs on the tip?”
“Whats that for?” The question certainly was so unexpected but her description was enough for me to visualize and salivate over; pumps or flats, they sure sound pretty to wear.
“For fun, really,” Anne grinned, “I figured maybe you could make something out of it.”
“Like what?”
“I don't know...an outfit to match or a dress based on the idea?
“Apricot lambskin...” I mumbled.
“Sounds pretty nice, doesn't it?” Anne smiled at the thought of wearing them on her own feet, “Apricot colors are sweet.”
I didn't answer; I was thinking about other colors besides apricot. Sure they were pretty, but is that it?
“What if they were red lambskins on the inside; a sort of maroon colored lambskin?” My eyes lit up; I could see it now, “And purple satin or as you said, soft leather for the outer lining.”
Anne's face changed form to a face trying to figure or imagine just how the colors would work. But I guessed we didn't have the same thoughts on the right type of shade because she didn't seem to like the idea. She said with a face, “Sounds a bit wild, Emma.”
“You just need the right sort of shade and it could work,” I grinned; happy at the evolved state of the idea that branched from being just the normal blue flats, “I'll prove it to you.”
“A new sketch?”
“There just might be.” I smiled; I love making new sketches, even if they seem similar in a way, “Think about it; red or purple trenchcoat with vintage syle purple and red buttons and a plain colored waistbelt, most likely red. Pair it with a straight-cut black denim. Scarves are tricky so its best to leave them out for a while. Headbands should work out just fine, I should think, with the same matching pattern from the buttons...”
“A clutch or a bag?” Anne grinned.
“A clutch, or maybe a bag...A hot red oversized clutch should work out just fine...and earrings, definitely purple and plastic, shaped just like a round lantern.”
Anne laughed, “I love it when you get into that mode of yours.”
“What mode?” I unlocked the door and stepped in.
Grabbing her things at the side of the door just before she left, “That mode of yours when you talk about clothes and shoes and fashion...Anyways, promise me you'll show me the sketch once your done?”
I nodded and closed the door behind her; she was walking home tonight. Her house wasn't too far away, a few turns in the street and she'd already reach. Turning round to head for the stairs, I was stopped short when there right in front of me, was plate of something yellow with a round blob of white on top of it. A plastic fork sat next to the yellow triangular shaped object.
“Have some pie, dear, your Aunt Jan made it.” Mom handed over the plate. But the yellow piece looked horrible; as if drenched with a water pipe before placing on a plate. Mom noticed my face, “Well go on and eat it. Don't hurt your Aunt Jan's feelings.”
I was halfway into stuffing the sweet yellow piece into my mouth when Mom asked where Dave was.
“Still at the library, I guess.”
“Emma,” Mom looked a little shocked, “You left him there?”
I quickly stuffed everything into my mouth and handed back the plate to her before she could start another lecture, “He's a big boy, Mom, don't need me to always look out after him.”
“Doesn't matter if he's a big boy already, it's your responsibility to make sure he makes the right decisions.”
“Right decisions? Why are we talking about right decisions?” I stopped just before running up the stairs.
Mom shrugged, “Just in case...he's your brother, Emma.”
“I know.” I continued my way, mumbling, “You tell me that every day.”
It's true; she really does.
“Emma,” I heard Dinah's voice as I answered the phone in my room.
“Oh, hey Dinah.” I walked around my room, clearing the bed from piles of books and pencils, “What's up?”
“Are you coming this Saturday, for the field trip to the Science Museum?”
It took a few seconds before I finally understood just what she was talking about, “Yep, I'm going, definitely. It'd help us understand better for the exams right?”
“Yeah,” Dinah answered, “Mr Thompson said it would be 'preferable' that we go.”
“Big word.”
“Uh-huh,” Dinah laughed, “So are you coming?”
“Well...” Thinking I just might be alone, “Who else is coming?”
“Almost the whole class, actually.”
“Really?” I was a little surprised, and suddenly stopped short of turning on the speakers.
“Yup,” She answered, “I'm pretty surprised myself. I had no idea everyone else was so hard-working.”
“I guess I'm going then,” I went ahead to turn on the speakers.
“Great, I'll put your name down.”
“What time do we meet at school?”
“Actually we meet at The Science Museum at 10.” Dinah informed, “And yes, you have to get your transport there.”
I wondered how on earth would I get there; having no license and having two working parents with a tendency to leave for work way too early in the morning. “How far would it take to cycle there, by the way?”
“Cycle there?” Dinah seemed greatly amused to hear that, “You can't be serious, Emma. Cycle there. It must take like an hour or so.”
“Don't have much of a choice,” I sighed, “My dad and mum won't be able to fetch me.”
“That's too bad.” She had pity for me, “But you'll still come, won't you?”
“Guess so.” I mumbled, sticking the phone wedged in the middle between my ear and my shoulder as I searched over the pile of books for my little sketchbook to quickly chart down the idea Anne gave earlier.
“Great. So I'll see you tomorrow?”
“Yup.”
A brief goodbye and I set to pull out a pencil and some pens to chart down a few ideas on my sketchbook. Here goes the sketch for the red or purple trenchcoat. Pretty odd and tricky color if you ask me; so I guess I'll just have to depend on the materials to do their magic. For the trenchcoat, canvas or patent should do the trick. Then there's the big oversized clutch; seems pretty cute the way the folds are shaped at the end. Aligator skin should be just perfect. I drew a few more sketch lines on it before finally forcing myself to stop playing around with it too long or else the damage would be irreversible.
I danced and pranced about the room to Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, unnoticed as I locked the door to my room to have a little privacy; no way anyone was going to see me dance. I did the scuba diving move and the Saturday Night Fever move, to the just plain wild and crazy move; my hands swinging in the air as my hips followed the movements of my legs which just couldn't stand still on the ground.
I stopped when there was a knock on my door. Panting and thoroughly exhausted at my unprofessional aerobic exercise, I opened the door.
“What are you doing?” Dave's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes narrowed at me.
I smiled, “What are you talking about?”
“I heard large thumps from my room. I figured it came from your room.” He held his gaze, “What ARE you doing?”
“I was dancing.”
Dave looked unconvinced.
“I WAS dancing!” I insisted.
He looked strangely at me, “Practicing for the audition for the cheerleading squad?”
“No, I'm dancing for no reason.” I grinned, “Wanna join me?”
Dave shook his head vigorously and headed back to his room. I turned back to mine and decided to resign from the aerobics when I saw the half open bag of Doritos peeping out from underneath the bed. I stared across the room as I sat relaxed and perfectly comfortable when my eyes caught sight of an old material Dad had supposedly bought for me to create 'something great' with it. It looked fantastically horrible and amazingly wretched to the core; almost defying anything sacred and beautiful in the fashion world. Still, I promised to work on it. It was challenge, you see. Dad wanted to test me, or rather, push me beyond the limits of just being mediocre and a plain jane.
The cloth was in a funny, sort of disorientated shade of purple, with green, blue, yellow and red ribbons arrayed in perfect rows. It looked positively old; vintage almost. I'd often reminded myself to work on it sometime soon. It's been a few months now and the cloth laid barely untouched (since the last time I ever touched it was to get my notebook underneath).
I bit my lip, angry at myself for being so lazy to think about the rag. Rolled and perfectly stuck tight in the middle of some books and the fluffy surface of the chair, I stared at the cloth. Man, that was hideous. But a designer should be able to make the use of everything, aren't they? Weird, crazy, limitless, beautiful designs make an accomplished designer after all. I should dare to dream, dare to pull myself up from the bed, open up the cloth and begin brainstorming.
There were no prize money from Dad if I did it perfectly. In fact, he meant it as a personal challenge where I could see clearly if the path I chose was the right one for me. I scoffed when he had said that and handed over the roll; I was positive I could do anything with it. Now I wasn't so sure. Now I wonder why I took up the challenge in the first place. Was it because of ego? Was it because soemthing in me just shouted YES, I CAN DO THIS? Was that a flame of passion burning in me?
Because if it is, it sure seemed short-lived. For a while I am riled up and geared for the never ending journey but in a few weeks, the energy dissolves and I am no longer interested. What is the makings of a true designer? Do I have what it takes? Or am I just confusing a hobby and dream job?
To Read more of this : A Little Something To Read
