Chapter III – Risk Free, Just Tell Me
Dayshia Fayth and Cameron got showered and dressed before going downstairs for brunch. They were both famished and couldn’t wait to fill their plates from the buffet. Everything looked so delicious, they couldn’t wait to dive in. Cameron muttered, when my belly button touches my spine it is time to chow down. Just saying ….
They watched the news while they filled their tummies full. Coffee wasn’t considered a luxury, it was most definitely a necessity for them both. She reminded him that they didn’t have to be anywhere until later that evening so they would have some free time in the meanwhile. They decided to split up and do their own thing separately until the evening.
Cameron was planning to hit the golf course and Dayshia Fayth wanted to do some retail therapy. It always cleared her head and dispersed any negative energy that she might be holding on to. Some people saw different things as nice works of art depending on their critical eye. The old adage, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, was so true.
But she was different. She saw the beauty of the imagination at play. She had a very soft spot for authentic vintage jewelry. But she found it invigoratingly free to mix the old with the new. She had several local favorite designers and she couldn’t wait to make her way to a few private showings which were by invitation only.
It just so happened that she was meeting with a stylist named Grace Garcia Fernandez. She had been hired to do the press releases for the newest clothes line and then also a bio on the designer herself. She loved her job tremendously and it showed in her work.
As she walked into the quaint boutique, she was greeted by a girl with a heavy accent that she could barely understand. It made no difference though as she looked around the room. Her collection was exquisite. She used only two colors for that line, black and white.
As she felt the fine fabric between her fingers, she could’ve never dreamed that so many different creations could possibly come from two primary colors. But then again, that was why she left the designing up to the professionals and she stuck to writing about them.
The owner came from the back soon thereafter. She just stared as she seemed to float across the floor, the designer herself ….. Whoa, she thought. She was a little unsure of herself, when it came to knowing how to greet a Puerto Rican female. It was obvious that the name Grace was her first name.
But the middle word, Garcia, must have come from her mother’s side of her family and that would mean that the third word had come from her father’s side of the family. It seemed like a cultural difference between them, it was nice how the language sounded as it rolled from her tongue.
She didn’t want to be ethnically insensitive so she patiently waited to see how she would introduce herself first before trying and failing. She said,
“Hi there, I’m Grace. How are you dear?”
“I am doing well. How are you Grace?” she inquired.
“I’m well, thanks so much for asking. Let’s go up and out to the terrace,” she answered.
The veranda overlooked the quaint tree lined neighborhood. They sat back in Adirondack chairs and sipped on a hot cup of coffee. It was quite beautiful as she looked out at the landscape.
Dayshia Fayth sat with her recorder in hand and a list of questions on her iPod, prepared for the interview. They got started right away. She said,
“So, today as I look around your store you are obviously a huge success story. So let’s start with, what it is that you feel that you provide as a service with value added as we sit together today?”
Grace looked up at the sky pondering the thought for a moment or two. There was no apparent pressure to move quickly. And then she said,
When I was a much younger girl, I actually worked at a well - known department store when a sweet woman offered to become my mentor, so to speak. I worked there for three years, learning everything that I could from her. She was a kind hearted spirit and she took me under her protective wing for some unknown reason.
One day, without notice, someone came into the store.
I’ll never forget that moment, for as long as I live. She was a very wealthy woman but what I noticed was her gentleness. She entrusted in me that she was dating someone special and he was often seen out and about in the public eye.
She cared very much for him but she had no clue what she was doing when it came to style and fashion. She had come from a less than modest urban household and had never had any money to spend on anything remotely feminine.
Actually, she mentioned that she wore the clothes passed down from her older brothers once they had grown out of them. They were stained and had big gaping holes in the knees of most of them.
I watched as she became teary eyed over what she perceived, as embarrassment and I felt touched. I spent the entire afternoon completely at my leisure as she tried on different ensembles specially chosen by me.
She found quite a few things that she liked but the one thing that she needed the most was an evening cocktail dress for when she met his parents. That was causing her the most worry.
She was so afraid that his mother wouldn’t like her and that would most likely mean that they would break up. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with that man, so the dress had to be perfection.
I picked a pretty light blue dress cute little bows on each arm as well as in the back. She liked it but it didn’t suit her body type very well and she noticed that too. I listened as she expressed her discomfort with her svelte parts.
I boldly asked her to buy the dress and to allow me to take it home with me for a few days. I couldn’t believe it but hesitantly, she agreed to do it.
I took it home and let out the seams to rework the structure. I added fabric to the arms and made them into long loose bell shaped sleeves. To give her a long lean line.
I also added fabric at the waist to loosen it there and also to create a linear bell effect. It had a long length before but I shortened it to just above the knee.
Her greatest assets were her long trim legs and her voluptuous cleavage. So I tried to highlight those two areas while changing the appearance of the other parts by tricking the eye.
And with a respectful lower hemline, she looked stunning. She came back into the store to try it on. When she came out and looked in the mirror she kind of tugged at it a bit as she turned to the side and then to the back.
She started to cry, not knowing that she could ever look that lovely. She hugged my neck so tightly and thanked me for all that I had done for her. That was when I finally decided to venture out on my own. I knew what I had been called to do.
I was young and single and not tied down to anyone or anything. But I needed to move to where people could afford to pay me for the service that I could provide. So, I did.
“It sounds like you were upping the ante, looking for a more erudite persona, as an image consultant. Is that an accurate statement, do you think?” she asked.
But she didn’t answer, she just nodded her head. It seemed obvious, just how meaningful her strife had been to get to where she was. And if homage wasn’t paid to that, then it would be the biggest insult to her. It wasn’t about getting to the top or the amount of money that she would make, it was a story about the rich journey.
Grace folded one arm and twisted her sweet opaque pearl earrings. It was clear that she was feeling raw and vulnerable after sharing a piece of her soul.
Noticing her discomfort, she excused herself to go to the ladies room and allow her to catch her breath. Dayshia Fayth stood in front of the mirror and lifted her breasts putting them back in their place, she splashed water over her face. Psssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhh …. Was the sound that she made as she exhaled.
And when she returned Grace looked up and smiled so genuinely right back at her. All was well with the world. And they started again Dayshia Fayth said,
“Women purchase in excess, generally speaking, with more garments than they actually require. Research supports that consumers make an acquisition because it is being offered for a reduced price or for bragging rights of the designer name. What makes your work any different?”
Well, when I initially meet a new client I interview them. I ask them what they want – what they need. I listen and let them speak. It’s not about me, in that moment and I respect that fact.
During that time that we spend together, I take good detailed notes and begin to construct the bones …. Of the skeleton. Meaning, figuring out their style preferences if they have any at all.
Vintage, modern, or something of a mix. I don’t abide by the fashion shows rules that the New Yorker’s think up. I style in a client centric way, individually. My creations are not for the masses, which is why I do not sell my line in department stores. If you want to see me or my work, you must come here to me.
Just because something looks good on a waiflike model does not mean that it will be flattering on other body types. The majority of women are not built like that and that is why that should not be the norm.
Generally, when someone comes to me for help or advice it is when there is an impending event that is meaningful to them and they want to look their very best for it.
People tend to stick with things within the realm of their comfort level. Unfortunately, that also means that they can be very old and outdated articles of clothing. For example, “blowing out a flip – flop on a pop top” doesn’t exactly command the attention of the room.
A lady should present herself as such. Much like a tiny hummingbird, delicate, graceful but elusive. The old adage, fashion hurts, is very true for some people. A young fashionista might choose to forego dining out for weeks to purchase a name brand quality bag, just as I had once done.
The flip side of that is that well - to - do clients, have the money, they do not seek out the high quality of products even though their money can most certainly collect it.
Her English could be a bit broken, at times. It seemed that she liked trendy music in her references. But there were times that she almost felt like she had missed something a verb or a noun maybe to complete the thought.
My favorite saying, and I’m pretty sure that I coined the phrase, Quality Keeps. It is just a fact of life. Honestly, I would rather pick something that the client could be happy with for twenty years over something trendy and forgettable.
“Well, Ms. Grace it has been such a pleasure to meet and sit down with you. I just couldn’t be any more grateful than I am. I just thank you,” she offered.
As they walked out to the front door, she picked up a sack from behind the cashier and handed it to her. Dayshia Fayth shook her head, thinking it was way too much to accept it from here.
But she insisted, and it would have been hurtful to Ms. Grace to not accept her gesture of kindness. So she did and as she turned to walk away with a sheepish grin covering her face, much like a child on Christmas morning.
Chapter IV – Crazy, Wild, Curly Hair
A dinner reservation was made and it was only minutes away from the limo picking them up. They were being responsible adults for a change because they knew that they would be drinking and staying out late. So they coordinated a driver service to get them back to the hotel safe and sound.
Dayshia Fayth stood before the floor length mirror, feeling a little bit queasy. She tilted her head to one side as she admired her gift from Ms. Grace. She was wearing a petite black silk and taffeta cocktail dress that flattered her body very much.
It was embellished, wholly, with minute black feathers that shimmered in the dim light. She picked long dangling earrings that were silver with clear gem stones. Her long silver necklace mirrored her plunging neckline and she looked nothing short of stunning.
All of that was great, but the very best part were her four inch spiked heeled Manolos. The craftsmanship and forward thinking design were undoubtedly on the bleeding edge of innovation in fashion. And she was a whore for a fancy pair of shoes.
Cameron stood just behind her as she turned to tie his tie. She took a brief moment and breathed him in, he smelled like Creed Adventus. Delicious! While he put his suit coat on, she grabbed her clutch and they headed out of the door.
They met in the prodigal bar of the Sympathy Hotel. The click clack of the hard tipped heels seemed to echo over the expansive marble floors. The hostess took them back to their private party on the exclusive back garden patio. The weather was very nice.
Her mother walked up and kissed both cheeks followed by a warm embrace. She introduced everyone and they sat down around an old wooden table. They had obviously ordered the first round of drinks for everyone there. There was a glass of pinot noir just in front of them.
The family seemed to be staring when they realized that she might have forgotten to mention something to them in their haste. He stared at her father’s eyebrows looking very confused. He looked over at his mother and he knew that she knew. The question was would she tell the rest of them.
He looked over at her, because he realized that he was staring inappropriately so. She could see that he was quite literally biting his lips together to either keep from speaking or laughing out loud. But the thought that was circling in his brain was, family …..schmamly …. No, not working for you? Oh, okay.
What he didn’t know was what her father was thinking. It was best that he didn’t know that because he was wondering, why he didn’t get a different haircut that was much shorter and manly to come and meet us with.
The group made polite conversation keeping the neutral limits that were predefined which were religion and weather mostly. As long as they followed the unwritten rules, they would most likely get along just fine.
Her sister was no less judgmental though. She was thinking, Hmmmm …..He would be so much more flattering if he would crop that long greasy looking hair right off into the trash can.
Her step - mother asked,
“How is work going?”
It’s going pretty good …. Actually, I got to intervieeeeeee ………”she didn’t even finish her sentence before she was out talked by her own mother.
“Tisha, how is your work going?” she asked.
Oh, well thank you for asking mom. The kids are so active, most days are just a blur. Terrell is in soccer now and he has several games every Saturday.
Tyra has been doing these little ballet classes and she seems to be liking it pretty well. Bobby is so into karate, he tried to karate chop everything in the house in half. Not successfully mind you, but he tries.
Keeli, just wants to watch Peppa Pig, her favorite cartoon. And then there are the twins. They are potty training, not really, but we’re trying.
If Shane was ever home, then we would be making progress. But we all know that that is not going to happen anytime soon.
They watched on with hallow eyes, not caring in the least about the words that were coming out of her mouth. She was so immersed in her own little world that she never bothered to check on anyone else’s well - being.
Cameron reached out his thoughtful hand just under the cover of the table. And she reached right back for him. The only thing on his mind was how disrespectfully his mother had talked to her. He was not a happy man and he found himself wondering if she did that all of the time. One thing was for sure, he would be watching out for it.