Page 2 of The Singles Club
“Okay.” I eyed her lavender satin dress. It reminded me of Nanushka’s new Lais wrap dress, but Imani tied this one with a matching thick tie belt. It draped her slender frame perfectly, and the color accentuated her dark brown skin. “Did you make that?”
She adjusted her belt. “Yeah, you like it?”
Impressed that she chose to tackle a fabric like satin, I walked over for a closer look and ran my fingers over the collar. The stitch was perfectly straight and pucker-free. Not an easy feat with satin. “Where did you learn to sew?”
She clasped her fingers together and curved her ankle outward, as if almost embarrassed to answer. “My grandmother taught me when I was a kid… I had a big family, and we didn’t have much money for school clothes.”
“Do you know where Coco Chanel learned to sew?”
“The orphanage,” she chuckled. “Nuns taught her.”
“Exactly. You should wear that as a badge of honor. You’re really good.”
She beamed out a smile. “Thank you.”
Although this was a great place to start, Imani’s talent didn’t belong here. We worked for Carlos Vega, who wasn’t an up-and-coming designer but rather a brilliant businessman who understood fashion. E-commerce was the present and the future, and Carlos took the reins. Because of the lack of competition, Carlos Vega becamethefashion face of Boston, and lots of exposure followed. I was lucky enough to become his assistant in the early stages and got the chance to travel to the fashion meccas of the world. Eventually, I was promoted to buyer, but in less than five weeks, I was off to Paris to start my new job as an assistant fashion stylist.
I decided to pay forward the favor that was extended to me.
I fished out my phone and searched through my contacts. “Connor Donahue is a designer who lives in the South Shore area. If you’d like, I’ll put you in contact with him.”
Her entire face lit up. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. I’d love that!”
I typed out a text message to Connor.
V: I have a very talented and creative seamstress whom I think you’d love to meet. Her name is Imani, and you’ll adore her.
C: Perfect. I’m preparing for a show in two months and could use her skills before I completely lose my mind! Send her my info xo
I wrote out his number and handed it to Imani. “Something tells me you won’t be interning here for much longer.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I smiled and headed toward the door.
“Viv?”
I turned. “Yes?”
“I know you don’t like mushy, but I just wanted to say that you’ve taught me a lot. Thank you… for everything.”
“Well, when you’re in Paris with your own show one day, I want front row seats.”
Her eyes filled with want and hunger. I knew that look. “Done.”
“En attendant de nous revoir.”
“Au revoir.” Imani’s pronunciation would need a little work, but give her a few more years and a couple trips to France, and she would get it. I had a feeling about her.
I took the stairs to the bottom floor and found Crystal breaking down her equipment.
“Hey, pretty lady,” I said.
She looked up from her camera, her black hair tied up in a loose bun. “Hey, matchmaker. Give me a minute.”
“Imani said you wanted to see me?” I looked down at her A-line printed top. Very cute, and the black and white color made her green eyes pop.
“So, we have yet another recruit to our Singles Club tonight… and I’m pretty sure she has absolutely no interest in actually being single.”
