Page 52 of Darn Knit All

So the date didn’t go well?

Theo

They went to the bathroom and never returned

Mai

I’m on my way

My heart pounded against my rib cage as the reality of our situation hit me like a ton of bricks.

Around us, the crowd moved back as the other couples tossed their food and drink and sprinted toward the fabric room, claiming material and patterns in a dog-eat-dog fight.

“Ready?” Theo asked, dropping my hand to present his arm to me.

I blinked up at him, my mind racing a million miles an hour. “Eight hours. We only have eight hours.”

He brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “And we’re going to get it done in seven hours and fifty-eight minutes.”

A hysterical bubble of laughter clawed up my throat. “There’s no way.”

“There’s always a way.” He began to guide me toward a spare workstation. “Think, Mai. What is going to be the quickest and easiest style to achieve in the time we have while still looking fabulous?”

A hundred scenarios and options flicked through my mind as I settled at the table and reached for a sketch pad.

“You draw,” Theo said, plonking hands on my shoulders. “I’m gonna go claim some fabric before these vultures pick it clean.”

“Satin and velvet,” I instructed, an idea beginning to take shape. “In two colors—like a muted or primary color and something exciting.”

“Black and pink?” he asked.

“That would work, but make the pink bold. Black and pastels have been done before.”

He nodded as I became aware of a camera crew moving our way. I glanced at them, then bent my head to the paper, starting to sketch out a rough idea. “Hurry, Theo.”

“I’m on it.”

The design had to be simple to pull together in the time we had. Something elegant, sophisticated, and timeless, but daring and bold in execution.

Not an easy feat.

I tore up the first design, tossing the paper in the trash. Cold sweat trickled down my back as I clutched at my pens, staring at the fresh, white sheet.

Yasmin had once said a blank page was a most fearsome thing, and up until this moment, I hadn’t understood what she meant. Now I did. Staring at the sketch pad, my mind raced so quickly everything jumbled until it became a blur of nothingness.

Michelle made her way over to me, an envelope in her hands.

“You’ll need this,” she said, handing me the gold paper.

Trying hard not to have a breakdown in the first ten minutes of the show, I slid the blade of my scissors under the lip and withdrew three papers, each with different measurements.

Another twist,” she said with a grin. “You have three models to choose from. Good luck.”

I quickly scanned the pages. Two were similar sizing to traditional models, tall with lean proportions, while the third posed a more interesting challenge.

When people thought of the fashion industry, they often imagined famous models like Miranda Kerr or Tyra Banks or Kendall Jenner. These were models that had to be a certain size and shape to meet the high fashion requirements for garments.These cream-of-the-crop runway models were hired to fit the clothes the designers made—rather than the designers creating the clothes to fit them. Usually tall with precise waist, bust, and hip measurements, they were hired for those proportions.

However, a newer trend had emerged over the previous decade, one which I wholeheartedly endorsed. These were high-end runway models who bucked traditional standards, women like Ashley Graham, Precious Lee, and Paloma Elsesser, who were mid-sized or larger, shorter or taller, and due to their unusual proportions, designers created clothes to complement their body and embrace their uniqueness rather than using the model as a living coat hanger.

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