My type, my ass.
"Mark Camacho. 4 million followers. Following 43. Model, son, MRL," I read looking at his Instagram profile on my phone.
I finally caved in and stalked his Instagram account.
"Asa! What is an MRL?" I called out.
"Probably a sports team or a sport. I don't know."
What sports team is spelled so similarly to MRI? Did the whole team have a sprained knee or something? Or is the team specifically for people who have sprained limbs and need MRIs? Strange team, strange man.
"Hi." I read as Mark's messages popped up on the top of my screen.
"How in the world?" I said to myself.
"They added profile views, so they can see when you look at their profile now. And you are verified on Instagram, Rosalind," Asa said with his iPad in his hand as he walked into the room I was in.
"I'm verified?" Damn, I didn't even know that.
"Yes. How do you not know that? You are a famous fashion designer."
Oh. I forgot about that.
I clicked on the notification that popped up from Mark on Instagram.
"Hi," I said out loud as I typed on the Instagram direct message thing.
"I saw you stalking my Instagram profile, like what you see?" he typed back.
"No, just checking your profile out."
"You mean, checking me out?"
"Yeah no. I want to collaborate with you again."
"So you do like what you see?"
You know what? This is not even worth it at this point.
"Come back," he typed, and I clicked on the notification.
"Why do you want to collaborate with me?"
"Because you're rich and a really popular model, and I like money." I typed.
I wasn't a sugarcoater, and I like my money.
"I like how you think. Of course, I will collaborate with you," he typed, and I hearted the message.
Nice.
"They want an immersive journey into the fashion realm? What does that even mean?" I asked Asa after he read me the email he had been sent from a fashion company.
"I will read you the description they emailed me. Enigma Collection is looking to sponsor and pay for all of the designs. You have to make an immersive journey with your pieces that go into the mysterious realms of fashion. And it fuses the aesthetics of the craft and the fashion industry to go against social boundaries. This allows the audience to unravel the collection in front of them, garment after garment. They want a change in the landscape. With 4 male models and 6 female models and a maximum of 10 pieces," Asa read the email out loud to me.
"I don't have 6 female models, and 10 pieces isn't a lot; how am I supposed to complete it all with that small amount of time??" I asked, and Asa shrugged.
"You're the designer. And the shows next week."
"Next week?? That's crazy; I can't find models that fast, or even think that fast, or design that fast." I was starting to freak out.
"What does enigma even mean?" I said, sitting down at my desk.
"That's the name of the company and the last of your concerns right now," Asa said.
All I had to do was make designs and tell stories through my designs. The problem is, I never do that; I just have dreams of outfits and say they go together in a "collection" because they look better in the media.
I for once got to choose what I made; I was the storyteller this time, not the media, not my models.
I grabbed my sketchbook.
"I haven't seen that thing in a while," Asa said.
"I don't use it because I just come up with stuff on the spot; I don't need to use it." I uncapped my pen.
"You are drawing in pen?"
"What happened to me being the designer?" I looked to the side at him.
"I have slightly more common sense than you do, Mrs. Famous Fashion Designer. Go find a damn pencil."
"Don't tell me what to do; I'm going to draw in pen."
"What happens if you make a mistake?"
"I don't."
"Sure, and you fumbling the famous model wasn't a mistake?"
I turned to the side and tried to kick Asa.
"Do I pay you to talk shit?" I asked, and Asa shook his head.
"You pay me because you don't know how the internet works, even though you are only 27."
"Get out."
"Gone ma'am!" Asa said, walking out with his iPad and typing away.
My pen hit the paper, and I drew. It's like it was second nature; why don't I do this more often?
I drew a floor-length gown with a sheer bodice with delicate lace all around it, like intricate vines.
"Is that enigmatic enough for you, Asa?!" I screamed.
No answer. Good, he's scared.
The skirt fell to the flower like a waterfall, showing the layers of the skirt through it. I don't know the word. The shiny stuff? Whatever I will figure it out later, I just want it to be shiny and see-through, sort of, so you can see the layers.
Mystique elegance gown.
That was deep. I should be a writer instead. What am I doing?
I spun around in my chair, scratching for ideas. I needed nine more designs, and they all had to hold meaning and go with the collection.
A suit with an asymmetrical hem and sleeves. What does asymmetrical even mean? Having two sides that aren't the same. Cool. I want the shadow to be blackish, like a shadow with an ethereal feel and some embroidery on the fabric. That wasn't a lot of embroidery because I am on such a time crunch.
I want the suit to show secrets concealed in its black fabric. Like it whispers, it calls and tells the secrets or something like that I don't know.
Whispering shadow suit.
Okay, I know why I'm not a writer, because what even is that? Whatever, onto the next one.
I feel like a cape would go with whatever enigmatic means.
I drew a rough sketch of a cape coming off a poorly drawn person. The cape would flow, and it would be like a forest. An enchanted forest. I am a genius, oh my god. We could have some plant and animal designs in the forest of the cape to add to the enchantedness. I don't know.
Enchanted forest cape.
I'm out of name ideas.
Maybe I should do a duplicate of the cape and do the twilight instead; that would be cool.
Edward + Bella Cape.
Asa is not going to be happy when he reads that.
A dress would be cool, inspired by celestial bodies or something like that. The bodice could resemble a starlit night sky and a flowing skirt that had all of the phases of the moon on it. Or just my favorite ones; we are on a time crunch, and I think that would look cluttered.
Griffith observatory dress.
A jumpsuit would be cute. They aren't cute, but I feel like this weird company would like them. It could be black again because we have a lot of black fabric. It could make the waist stand out and show the shadows and dreams. There could probably be some texture to the black to add to it.
Black dress.
A ballgown would be beautiful; oh my god, that would be so cool. It could be adorned with delicate feathers that would flutter in the wind. Fake feathers, probably from Michaels, but it would look cool, and I could add the illusion that the person wearing it is floating or something cool.
Ballgown whispers.
A tuxedo with a masquerade theme. I just want to make the mask; that's it. So the masquerade-phantom thing would be cool.
Masquerade mask, yay!
I drew a short cocktail dress with a bodice that looks like ocean waves and has the same pattern and wave beat as normal waves. Some sequins may be like the sunlight on the water.
Sirens love songs.
Last one. Uh, I don't know.
I felt myself drawing the dress. It was a bridal gown with a galaxy on the skirt, but it didn't look tacky; instead, it moved with the person wearing it, and it blended with the black bodice, which had different stars and constellations on it that sparkled and shone under the light of the spotlight.
Where are the lights? I walked around, touching all of the walls where the lights normally were.
My studio was silent. No footsteps, no air conditioning, no nothing. It was dead silent.
I turned on the light. I was back.
All my sketchbooks were all over the floor, and my mannequin had pricks all over it.
My studio. I felt my heart warm as I touched all of the different fabrics and things I had lying around.
All before I became a true fashion designer.
There the dress was, in all its beauty, and it sat there on my bed. It was halfway finished, but it still looked gorgeous.
"Your designs look beautiful, baby; you should go, and if you don't like it, you can come back." I watched as I walked into my room, and my mom spoke, following behind me.
I was 17, the same height as I am now, the same everything; I just wasn't who I am now.
"Mom, I want to. I don't want to go to school for it; I just design as a passion, a hobby," I said to her.
"You should just try it, and if you don't like it, you can come back home and do whatever you'd like." I remember those words. Those words changed my life.
I watched as the room around me transformed into the outside of my house.
"I don't like it," I said to my mom.
"I paid for it, sweetie; you have to go."
"But I don't like it. It's not me, and you said I could come back and do whatever if I didn't like it."
"Just try one more year and see," my mom said, and I watched myself stand there looking at her.
I was in my bedroom now; the posters were ripped off the wall, and nothing looked quite right.
"Just try one more year, sweetie; you will like it for sure."
"But mom, I don't like it-."
"I paid for it; stop being ungrateful." Right there, I watched the smile fade from my face. The light in my eyes was gone, and the love I once had for designing was gone.
I felt my heart sink, remembering all of it.
"Next year, I promise." and just like that, I was done.
I finished fashion school, and I was genuinely miserable. The industry had taken control of my mind already. I was making and designing whatever they wanted, not what I wanted.
"I think this dress is hideous—absolutely hideous. I don't understand how anyone could make something so ugly. I know you didn't make this, my dear Rosalind. We might as well throw it away." She took my dress. The lady I couldn't even care about or remember her name took my dress.
Round 2. I win
I hope she's watching me. I hope my mom is watching me. I hope everyone who forced me to be here is watching me now.
That dress is going to be back and better than ever just to prove that I am bigger and better than them, then this stupid industry and everyone who feeds into its craziness.
"Your last model, Rosalind," Asa said. I stood up. My team had been working tirelessly to make my designs come to life, and I had been on my feet all day teaching and helping, so I was finally sitting down to work on the second design, and Asa interrupted me because, of course, he does.
Oh, it's Mark.
"Hi."
"Hello."
"Thank you so much for coming to model with us again. Rosalind has what you will be wearing, and she can help you work on your charm and how you are going to walk and stand," Asa said with an evil smile as I stared daggers into him.
He just wanted him to be alone with me and only talk to me to prove his point that Mark was very much my type.
He smiled at me.
"I should put you in the Edward + Bella cape with those fangs, damn," I said as I continued to work on the suit.
He quickly closed his mouth. Strange.
"Thank you for stepping in again; your being there for the photo shoots and during the fittings was and is very helpful," I said as I measured his arms and shoulders.
He shuttered.
"Are you cold?"
"No, just entranced by your beauty." I stopped measuring him and stared at him.
"You've got some charm to you," I said, and he smiled.
"That's how I make it in the industry."
"You already made it with your dad being loaded." I sat back down to see if the measurements of the suit worked out on his own.
"Not as loaded as I'll be once I'm done." I turned around and looked at him. He was a strange man.
"Done with?"
"This whole thing."
"My fashion show?"
"Nope, the whole industry will crumble once I'm done, and you'll come down with it if you don't come with me." I'm sorry. What is this man on about?
"You read too much Twilight, vampire?" I asked, and that smug face turned into a nervous look, and he sort of laughed.
"It's a joke, chill," and he started laughing again.
The way he spoke and his aura just gave me all the wrong signals, but he is one sexy man. The way he spoke, it was like he was manipulating me, planning out his future on top of everything people had built up for years.
"We have two days, big boss," Asa said, walking around with me.
"I know that I'm checking designs; they are all going well." I looked at the dress. My dream dress. There, Mark sat with one of the other models, working on it.
"Is Rosalind always so, blah?" Mark asked the other model.
"Asa, can you check on the last two and then go pick up some more black fabric? I need to take this," I said, and Asa nodded, and he walked off.
There was no phone call; I was just nosey, and I heard my name.
"Mrs. Rosalind? I think she's amazing," Kennedy said, good-looking out queen.
"Of course, you think that because she pays you."
"She didn't pay me at first, and I still thought she was amazing."
"She just seems very ordinary; her looks, her personalities, meh, she is just meh."
"You seem meh, hating on her for no reason," Kennedy said, continuing to work.
"I guess she's kind of pretty," Mark said, and they stopped talking.
"Mark!" I said, and he quickly got up and looked at me.
"Can you help me?"
He got up and nodded.
"What do you need help with-?"
Bam flat on his dumb ass face.
"Oh, do you want help? Or am I too ordinary for you?" I said that and flipped him off as I walked away.
Was I being petty? Yes. Don't shit-talk me in my studio, and you wouldn't have fallen on your stupid face.
The day went by slowly. Every time I would get up and walk to the bathroom or go walk around and help anyone who needed it, Mark would get up and avoid me like the plague.
"Who is going to wear this one?" Asa asked me as we stood in front of the dress, my dress.
"I'm not sure. It's a special piece to me, so it has to be someone who will wear it with care and capture the beauty of it because it's also my last piece of the collection," I said, and Asa nodded.
"I'll ask around and check on the other models." I nodded, and Asa walked off. Most of the pieces were done, with just a few details here and there.
I had all of my models—correctly, most of my models. I was short one female model, which I still hadn't found yet, and the show was in two days—well, sort of one in a half now.
"I think you should wear it." I turned around, and there Mark stood.
"Why?" I asked; this was the first time he even got close to me, let alone spoke to me after I tripped him.
"You'll look less ordinary in it."
"I don't think I will; I'm not a model."
"I can tell," he said. I sighed.
"Are you always this annoying?" I asked, and he nodded with a smile.
"I think it would make headlines that you modeled in your show; I never really see that in the fashion world, and I think it would be good for you," he said. I mean, he was right.
I still didn't know how to model at all.
"I'm not sure," I said, and Mark stood there.
"Well, I am sure. You'll look beautiful," he said, and he smiled at me.
I am easily swooned by hot men who are good liars.
"You are only saying that to make me feel better, but I'll do it. Yeah, I'll do it," I said. I never thought in a million years I would be modeling, let alone in one of my shows.
I looked around. It was a day before the show. I was less freaked out now for some reason.
My models were trying everything on, and everything seemed to be going well.
"Mrs. Rosalind!" A voice yelled across the studio; it was Lindsay, who had on Griffith's observatory dress.
"Yes, Lindsay?" She quickly ran over to me with the dress in her hands; she was obviously freaking out.
"I don't know what happened; it, this, the moons are all ripped, and the dress it's, it's ruined," she said, holding in her hands and shaking.
I took the dress out of her hands, and I held it up. I mean, the moons were ruined, but everything else looked really good.
"A black hole got it?" I said. I was trying to make light of the situation. It wasn't ruined like she had said; it had a few rips here and there, but they added to the dress.
"Go try it on and let me see. I think it looks good," I said with a smile and handed her the dress. She quickly shuffled into the dressing room.
"Just for everyone, if the dress, cape, suit, or whatever article of clothing has rips or anything in it, that's not fixable at this point. Just go with it. You do not have to come to me crying and acting like I will fire you if you mess up. We are a team here; I do pay you, and I am technically your boss, but you need to come talk to me. I do not care if you mess up; we will work on it together," I said loudly, and I stopped and looked around.
"That was deep, sweetheart," Asa said, and I laughed.
"Back to being mean, I need more people to try on their outfits and see how they fit," I said, and a few of the models laughed.
"Mrs. Rosalind?" I turned around. The dress looked beautiful on her.
"You look absolutely beautiful," I said with a sincere smile on my face.
Lindsay wrapped her arms around me, practically jumped on me, and hugged me like her life depended on it.
She smiled as she let go of me.
She walked back to her area.
"I admire your honesty and true character. I'm glad there are still people like you in the fashion industry." I looked behind me. It was Mark.
"It's important to be honest and work together," I said. Mark stared at me.
We stayed silent as I continued to add some final touches to the bodices of my dress.
It was looking good; the whole collection was, and it made me happy. It's like I was enjoying being a fashion designer again.
"Are you and whatever his name is dating?" Mark asked, breaking the peaceful work silence I was in.
"Who?"
"IPad guy."
"My sectary, Asa?"
"Is he the one with the iPad?"
"Yes."
What was Mark even going on about?
"What about him?" I asked.
"Are you two dating?"
HUH?
Me and Asa?
Do you mean the same Asa, which is pronounced Aza, spelled Asa, Asa?
Do you mean the guy who has been my secretary since I was in fashion school? Are we talking about the same Asa here?
"No. He is my secretary and one of my good friends," I said.
"Why was he calling you sweetheart, then?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me. Why was he calling you sweetheart?"
"When-."
Mark interrupted me. "That was deep, sweetheart," he mocked as he repeated what I assume was something that Asa said.
"I don't even remember that. We aren't dating and won't ever be; he's not my type at all," I said to Mark. Why am I explaining myself to him?
"What is your type, then?"
Hot men who are mean to me, don't do anything besides talk shit, call me ordinary, and are mega-rich.
"Young and rich; tall and handsome." Ricky, my love.
Mark went quiet, and I went back to my work.
He got up and walked away. What a strange guy!
Sixteen hours.
Nine hours.
Five hours.
Two hours.
"You're the only one who hasn't tried on your outfit, Rosalind," Asa said.
"Don't say that you are making me feel like shit."
"Good, the fashion show is in two hours." And just like that, Asa walked away.
Rude.
Maybe I should just call another model. I stared at the dress, my dress. I couldn't see myself in it. I couldn't see myself walking down the runway in it; it wasn't meant for me.
"Asa!" I called out, and he turned around and looked at me.
"Please come here," I mouthed to him, and he rolled his eyes as he walked over to me.
"What now? Are you going to move back the fashion show? Wear a different outfit? Try and get me in the outfit-?"
"What if I look ugly?" Asa looked up from his iPad, and he put it down on the bench behind me.
"Why would you look ugly?"
"The dress—I don't think it will look good on me."
"It's your dress, Rosa; no one else can wear it but you."
"But I decide that."
"Yes, you do, but it's your dress, and there's two hours before the show-."
"But I decide who wears it, correct?"
"Yes, you do."
"Then I do not want to wear it," I said, and I slumped down onto the floor.
"Rosa."
"Asa, I'm going to look disgusting if I wear it," I said, looking up at him.
He squatted down next to me.
"Rosa-."
"I just don't know how they would think-."
"Rosalind, listen to me," Asa said, and I looked up at him.
"I understand you usually run things and call all the shots, and everything always turns out amazing, but right now, coming from your sectary and a good friend, you need to shut up and listen to me. I understand that you are the designer—the famous one at that—but listen to me. This is your dress-."
"Was my dress."
"It is your dress, and you are going to wear it; you are not going to look ugly, ordinary, or anything besides the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on; you understand me?"
"Yes."
"Look me in the eyes and say it."
"Damn, I didn't know you were into that," I said, wiping the tears I didn't even know had fallen.
"Rosalind."
"Sorry, yes, I do understand," I said, and Asa nodded.
"You are the most beautiful woman ever, and don't let rich, mediocre-looking men or anyone else let you think otherwise. You tell me all the time that you don't give a damn what the industry thinks or what any of the rich people think, so keep that mindset," Asa said, and he hugged me.
"Thank you," I said, letting go of his warm hug.
"You are more famous than them anyway; they are lucky to have your pieces in their stupid company anyway," Asa said, picking back up the outfit and handing it to me.
"Go try it on; I'll be waiting." And just like that, Asa closed the curtain.
I looked down at my hands and then at myself in the mirror. I took a deep breath. This is my dream dress, and I'm finally going to wear it.
I carefully took the dress in my hands, and I put it down gently on the bench in my fitting room.
I slipped my shirt over my head and then my pants. I'll worry about undergarments in an hour, I guess.
I picked up the dress, and I ran my hands across the beautiful fabric and intricate detail. It was absolutely magnificent and truly a dream come true.
I stepped into it, gently brought it up, and put my arms through the straps.
"Asa! I need help zipping," I called out, and he slipped into my dressing room.
He stopped.
"Woah, I have actually never seen you in anything but those ugly jeans," Asa said as he zipped the back of the dress.
"You leave my jeans alone." I laughed, and I looked at myself in the mirror. It was a dream that finally came true. I don't know why I keep saying that, but it really is.
"You are gorgeous," Asa said, and he smiled at me with an expression I couldn't explain.
"Thank you; now get out, because I am going to do the opening in my regular outfit," I said, pushing him.
"I could stay here and help you?" Asa asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Get out." and just like that, I pushed him out.
I smiled. It was perfect.
"How do you say it? Edna, what now?" I asked. Me and Lindsay were going over what I was going to say for the opening.
"Enigmatic or enigma," she said back to me.
We were at the event, and all the outfits were perfect. The lights were so bright that we could see them all the way from backstage and probably from outside the event.
It was a beautiful setting of dark and light, and words really couldn't describe how star-struck I was right now.
Hi welcome! I think I got this. I just have to get over my fear.
"20 MINUTES!" Asa's loud voice rang in my ear.
All of my models had on their outfits, make-up was perfect, everything.
"What are you looking at?" I looked up; it was Mark.
"Myself and the curtains are closed; why did you come in?" I turned around towards him.
"I assumed you were dressed because mostly everyone is." He looked really handsome, and it made me want to smile.
"No, I am going to go out in my regular outfit, so I'm already changed," I said with a smile, and he raised his eyebrow.
"Are you?"
"Yes?" Why was this man doubting me?
"That's a shame."
"Why?"
"Because you'd look really good in that dress, just saying."
"It's almost like I don't care about your opinions." I turned back around, and we made eye contact in the mirror.
"I think you do pretty girl," he said, leaning up against the wall.
"I am 27, don't girl me," I said, and his mouth opened.
"27?"
"Yeah?"
"When I was looking at your Wikipedia page, it said you were 23."
"You were stalking me on Wikipedia?"
"No, I wasn't, I-." He stopped himself, and his face turned red.
"You are 24; why is being 27 a big deal?" I asked.
"I've never dated someone older than me."
Date? Excuse me, sir, what?
"Date?" and he started to stammer and get embarrassed again.
"5 MINUTES, ROSALIND, THEY WANT YOU OUT THERE NOW!" Asa said.
"Your boyfriends calling you better go; you are going to do great," Mark said, and he patted my back as I walked out.
I always do great.
I walked through the door, and the place was filled; not even my biggest shows had this many people in them. Oh my god.
"Rosalind, we all already know the theme. But we all want to know how you came up with so much in such a short amount of time." The announcer lady asked, and she shoved the microphone in my face.
"With the help of my amazing team, my models, and my secretary, I couldn't do any of this without all of them; they are the ones I want to thank," I said, and she seemed content without that answer and started saying some other stuff that I drowned out with my nervousness about all these pieces and how people would like them.
"Give it up for Rosalind!" she yelled, and I waved to people as they cheered and walked back behind the stage.
"Go put on your outfit; the live is set up in your dressing room," Asa said, and I quickly walked over to my dressing room.
I watched it live as I got dressed.
The enchanted forest cape was up first. The cape flowed like the forest was enchanted. There were birds and other animals across the cape, and there was this mystical aspect to it that truly made the cape look like it was enchanted.
No way. They actually made the Edward + Bella cape. I feel like that might be a little too edgy for all these rich old people, but it was a full moon with a wolf and a man standing there. Edward and Jacob? What happened to Bella? Whatever, it is funny and amazing.
I stood there in my dress, smiling at my iPad.
The Griffith observatory dress, after all of its problems, came out beautiful, and it sat like the night sky, and the moon looked magnificent. I'm glad the piece came out well.
The black dress, which now that I think about it is not even a dress, looked cute; it was causal and added some homey feel to the collection itself. The texture was that of obsidian, and it looked gorgeous.
Maybe I am only saying this because I designed and helped make all of these; anyway, it doesn't matter.
A few others went but I was tuning them out so I don't even know what order they came and went in.
Next up, the ballgown whispers walked. It was adorned with delicate feathers that were fake, but everything in the industry is so it doesn't matter; they still looked gorgeous and looked like the dress was floating on air.
Va va voom. Look at my man, Mark—not my man, at least not yet. He looked gorgeous with the mask in one hand as he smiled and strutted.
His smile was as fake as they come, but no one could tell. Masquerade mask, yay, was a true hit.
"Rosa!" Asa called out.
I put the iPad down and shuffled out of the dressing room. I looked around, and all of the models were eating out of their outfits or taking pictures.
I slipped past them, and I walked out into the area before the stage. It's okay.
I got this. I can do this.