Brittany ran through the dark streets of Manhattan, lugging five designer gowns. She pulled out her phone. Nine p.m., and, of course, the battery was going to die at any second.
Please stay alive long enough to use the GPS, she pleaded with it. She clicked frantically with one hand and just as the screen started to load, it went dark.
"Shoot," she said, aggravated.
It was the first day of her internship and she was already going on to her fourteenth hour. Brittany needed to have the gowns to the dry cleaners before they closed at 9:30, but she was unfamiliar with her surroundings, and stylist extraordinaire Rachel Hutton would be furious if they weren't ready for Blake Lively early the next morning.
"You had better be there on time, or else we can kiss that client good bye," Rachel had said that morning.
A small seed of worry began to throb in the pit of her stomach. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked in the distance. Her directions were to get off at the 14th stop, A,C,E so she had to be near it, she thought. Brittany hugged the gowns closely to her as she ventured down a dark side road.
"This is really dumb of you, Brit," she mumbled to herself.
Another crack of thunder sounded through the night sky and rain started to fall, big fat drops splashing onto her face.
Please stay alive long enough to use the GPS, she pleaded with it. She clicked frantically with one hand and just as the screen started to load, it went dark.
"Shoot," she said, aggravated.
It was the first day of her internship and she was already going on to her fourteenth hour. Brittany needed to have the gowns to the dry cleaners before they closed at 9:30, but she was unfamiliar with her surroundings, and stylist extraordinaire Rachel Hutton would be furious if they weren't ready for Blake Lively early the next morning.
"You had better be there on time, or else we can kiss that client good bye," Rachel had said that morning.
A small seed of worry began to throb in the pit of her stomach. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked in the distance. Her directions were to get off at the 14th stop, A,C,E so she had to be near it, she thought. Brittany hugged the gowns closely to her as she ventured down a dark side road.
"This is really dumb of you, Brit," she mumbled to herself.
Another crack of thunder sounded through the night sky and rain started to fall, big fat drops splashing onto her face.
"Great! Fantastic!" she said, thinking back to how she had gotten into this in the first place.
***
Brittany had always loved fashion and would often offer personal shopping services to her friends, dressing them for the hottest parties at West Chester High. She would devour the latest fashion blogs and books, her favourites being the fashion magazines. Brittany would read the directions and the ideas on each photo. She would scan the news of the stylists and designers, looking up their portfolios and resumes online.
She couldn't afford to go to fashion shows, so she would spend time watching them online and study how the clothing moved, where it touched the body and how the cut fit. Some of her favourite sites were: fashion-copius.typepad.com (where she downloaded fashion editorials), fashionista.com and Style.com. She was fashionsessed!
When Brittany would dress one of the girls at her school, she would rifle through pages and pages of collaged note books that she had accumulated from glossy clippings in magazines and printouts from the internet. Next, she would come up with the perfect style and outfit for that girl.
***
"O.k., Mads, here we are," Brittany sing-songed as she pulled her fire red Audi A3 into a parking spot right in front of a thrift store.
"What is that?" A wrinkle formed on Madeline's brow. "You said you were taking me designer clothes shopping. Don't you know all the boutique owners in the city?"
Her mouth flattened into a straight line.
"Mads, trust me! Do you remember Rachel McAdams' outfit in last week’s Elle? It was an $8.00 dress from a thrift store," Brittany stated.
"You're kidding me! I thought that dress had to be at least eight hundred dollars," Madeline said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
"Nope! It is all in the way you put it together and accessorize," Brittany said, grabbing her purse.
The girls walked into Value Village and started scouring the racks. Brittany touched every piece of fabric to feel the weight of it. Then she spotted an orange dress and she pulled it off the rack.
"Mads, try this on," Brittany urged, adding the dress to an accumulating pile on her cart.
Brittany pulled an assortment of accessories to go with the outfits she had chosen with Madeline. They both made their way to the change room.
"Oh my gawd! Brit, you are so right!" Madeline stared at herself in the mirror.
"This season, turquoise and oranges are in," Brittany noted, as she plucked a silk turquoise scarf from the pile and placed it around Madeline's neck.
Brittany stood behind her and pulled the sides of the dress in, making it fit to her slim figure perfectly.
"I love it!" Madeline gushed, admiring herself.
"I can alter the dress when I get home," Brittany mused, examining the fabric.
.
"That's right. You’re in Mrs. Scott's Fashion class," Madeline said knowingly.
"Yup, and she is giving me a part of the fashion show to showcase the girls I style at prom," Brittany said.
"Really?" Madeline beamed. "I can't wait to be up there."
"You are going to look amazing! Trust me," Brittany trilled, clapping her hands together.
***
The evening of the prom came quickly. Brittany had ten girls to style. To prepare, Brittany immersed herself in old movies the week before, and looked up older trends from history. Pairing historical trends with today’s trends would keep her ideas fresh. Also, certain styles would repeat themselves in fashion. Brittany wanted this to be the best event that she had ever styled.
The night started out stressfully, as she was having some trouble choosing the right shoes, with the perfect height and style, for each girl’s outfit.
After five hours of styling, Brittany was finally able to get dressed herself. Pulling a long, silk floral dress over her head, she carefully slid the spaghetti straps over her shoulders. The waist nipped in perfectly as she took one last look in the mirror. She had lips as red as apples, as if she had recently been kissed.
“This is it," she said to herself, and taking a deep breath, she made her way downstairs.
Brittany and a gaggle of girls piled into their limo and went to meet up with their dates for a pre-prom photo shoot. They arrived ten minutes later at a park that could have easily been a Monet painting. Their dates were waiting for them patiently and welcomed them with whistles and cat calls.
Typical, Brittany thought to herself. Then she realized that she had been so busy planning the girls’ outfits that she had completely forgotten to find a date for the prom! No matter, she was perfectly fine on her own. She was going to have fun no matter what.
Brittany looked around and noticed that the photographer hadn't arrived yet.
"Jen, didn't you say your cousin was coming to do a photo shoot?" she asked with a sigh.
Just as the words left Brittany's lips, the sound of crunching gravel came from behind her. She turned to see a black Mazda 2 pull up beside the limo.
Brittany watched as the photographer got out and slung his equipment around his shoulder. He walked towards her, his mouth transformed into a gleaming white smile accentuated by two dimples. It was like a scene from a Channing Tatum movie, her mouth hung on the floor.
Keep it together, Brittany, he is your photographer, be cool, she thought to herself.
"Hi, sorry I'm late. I'm Jon," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "You must be Brittany."
"Umm, yeah- yes, I am." Her body felt weak from her feet to her throat.
"Let’s get started," he said, laying out his equipment.
***
After all of the photos were taken, Brittany walked over to Jon, took a deep breath and thanked him. He smiled widely, almost goofy.
"You're welcome." He paused. " I noticed that you were in the photos alone, would I be wrong in assuming that you don't have a date?"
He seemed shy now, much different than the confident photographer she had watched for the last hour.
"I really didn't have the time, to find a date, that is," Brittany said, winding a tendril of
brown hair around her fingers.
"Well," he ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, "would you like to go with me?" he asked hopefully.
"That would be great," Brittany said shyly.
***
Music blasted from the speakers as they opened the doors to West Chester High.The main hall was full of lights and sparkle. Jon took her hand and guided her into the gym.
"I have a fashion show that I am setting up in a bit, will you take some pictures of it for me?" Brittany asked, tossing her hair behind her shoulders.
"You mean like for your portfolio?" He smiled knowingly and his blue eyes shone in the florescent lights.
"Yes," Brittany said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Well, if you put it that way," Jon looped his arms around hers.
***
The rain was now pounding like fists, as Brittany juggled her umbrella and the gowns. Just then she saw a red Mazda pull up in front of her and a dark haired man hurriedly got out carrying a suit bag. Brittany looked up. There it was, as plain as day, in bright neon orange lettering, Top Dry Cleaners NYC.
"Oh, my gawd!" A triumphant whisper escaped her lips as she dashed to the door and caught it just as it was closing behind red Mazda man. The clock on the wall read 9:26p.m.
"Whew," Brittany exhaled, as she placed the gowns on a chair in the waiting area and fought with the umbrella to close it.
"You are lucky you made it," a small woman said, turning the open sign on the door over to show closed.
"Thank you."
Brittany sat down and waited for her turn. She was going to be O.K. after all, everything was going to run smoothly tomorrow. Only two more years of interning and she would have enough experience to start her own stylist company.
Just then her phone bleeped and a text appeared from her boyfriend, Jon.
"Have dinner ready when you get home. Kiss," she read with a smile.
Brittany had always loved fashion and would often offer personal shopping services to her friends, dressing them for the hottest parties at West Chester High. She would devour the latest fashion blogs and books, her favourites being the fashion magazines. Brittany would read the directions and the ideas on each photo. She would scan the news of the stylists and designers, looking up their portfolios and resumes online.
She couldn't afford to go to fashion shows, so she would spend time watching them online and study how the clothing moved, where it touched the body and how the cut fit. Some of her favourite sites were: fashion-copius.typepad.com (where she downloaded fashion editorials), fashionista.com and Style.com. She was fashionsessed!
When Brittany would dress one of the girls at her school, she would rifle through pages and pages of collaged note books that she had accumulated from glossy clippings in magazines and printouts from the internet. Next, she would come up with the perfect style and outfit for that girl.
***
"O.k., Mads, here we are," Brittany sing-songed as she pulled her fire red Audi A3 into a parking spot right in front of a thrift store.
"What is that?" A wrinkle formed on Madeline's brow. "You said you were taking me designer clothes shopping. Don't you know all the boutique owners in the city?"
Her mouth flattened into a straight line.
"Mads, trust me! Do you remember Rachel McAdams' outfit in last week’s Elle? It was an $8.00 dress from a thrift store," Brittany stated.
"You're kidding me! I thought that dress had to be at least eight hundred dollars," Madeline said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
"Nope! It is all in the way you put it together and accessorize," Brittany said, grabbing her purse.
The girls walked into Value Village and started scouring the racks. Brittany touched every piece of fabric to feel the weight of it. Then she spotted an orange dress and she pulled it off the rack.
"Mads, try this on," Brittany urged, adding the dress to an accumulating pile on her cart.
Brittany pulled an assortment of accessories to go with the outfits she had chosen with Madeline. They both made their way to the change room.
"Oh my gawd! Brit, you are so right!" Madeline stared at herself in the mirror.
"This season, turquoise and oranges are in," Brittany noted, as she plucked a silk turquoise scarf from the pile and placed it around Madeline's neck.
Brittany stood behind her and pulled the sides of the dress in, making it fit to her slim figure perfectly.
"I love it!" Madeline gushed, admiring herself.
"I can alter the dress when I get home," Brittany mused, examining the fabric.
.
"That's right. You’re in Mrs. Scott's Fashion class," Madeline said knowingly.
"Yup, and she is giving me a part of the fashion show to showcase the girls I style at prom," Brittany said.
"Really?" Madeline beamed. "I can't wait to be up there."
"You are going to look amazing! Trust me," Brittany trilled, clapping her hands together.
***
The evening of the prom came quickly. Brittany had ten girls to style. To prepare, Brittany immersed herself in old movies the week before, and looked up older trends from history. Pairing historical trends with today’s trends would keep her ideas fresh. Also, certain styles would repeat themselves in fashion. Brittany wanted this to be the best event that she had ever styled.
The night started out stressfully, as she was having some trouble choosing the right shoes, with the perfect height and style, for each girl’s outfit.
After five hours of styling, Brittany was finally able to get dressed herself. Pulling a long, silk floral dress over her head, she carefully slid the spaghetti straps over her shoulders. The waist nipped in perfectly as she took one last look in the mirror. She had lips as red as apples, as if she had recently been kissed.
“This is it," she said to herself, and taking a deep breath, she made her way downstairs.
Brittany and a gaggle of girls piled into their limo and went to meet up with their dates for a pre-prom photo shoot. They arrived ten minutes later at a park that could have easily been a Monet painting. Their dates were waiting for them patiently and welcomed them with whistles and cat calls.
Typical, Brittany thought to herself. Then she realized that she had been so busy planning the girls’ outfits that she had completely forgotten to find a date for the prom! No matter, she was perfectly fine on her own. She was going to have fun no matter what.
Brittany looked around and noticed that the photographer hadn't arrived yet.
"Jen, didn't you say your cousin was coming to do a photo shoot?" she asked with a sigh.
Just as the words left Brittany's lips, the sound of crunching gravel came from behind her. She turned to see a black Mazda 2 pull up beside the limo.
Brittany watched as the photographer got out and slung his equipment around his shoulder. He walked towards her, his mouth transformed into a gleaming white smile accentuated by two dimples. It was like a scene from a Channing Tatum movie, her mouth hung on the floor.
Keep it together, Brittany, he is your photographer, be cool, she thought to herself.
"Hi, sorry I'm late. I'm Jon," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "You must be Brittany."
"Umm, yeah- yes, I am." Her body felt weak from her feet to her throat.
"Let’s get started," he said, laying out his equipment.
***
After all of the photos were taken, Brittany walked over to Jon, took a deep breath and thanked him. He smiled widely, almost goofy.
"You're welcome." He paused. " I noticed that you were in the photos alone, would I be wrong in assuming that you don't have a date?"
He seemed shy now, much different than the confident photographer she had watched for the last hour.
"I really didn't have the time, to find a date, that is," Brittany said, winding a tendril of
brown hair around her fingers.
"Well," he ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, "would you like to go with me?" he asked hopefully.
"That would be great," Brittany said shyly.
***
Music blasted from the speakers as they opened the doors to West Chester High.The main hall was full of lights and sparkle. Jon took her hand and guided her into the gym.
"I have a fashion show that I am setting up in a bit, will you take some pictures of it for me?" Brittany asked, tossing her hair behind her shoulders.
"You mean like for your portfolio?" He smiled knowingly and his blue eyes shone in the florescent lights.
"Yes," Brittany said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Well, if you put it that way," Jon looped his arms around hers.
***
The rain was now pounding like fists, as Brittany juggled her umbrella and the gowns. Just then she saw a red Mazda pull up in front of her and a dark haired man hurriedly got out carrying a suit bag. Brittany looked up. There it was, as plain as day, in bright neon orange lettering, Top Dry Cleaners NYC.
"Oh, my gawd!" A triumphant whisper escaped her lips as she dashed to the door and caught it just as it was closing behind red Mazda man. The clock on the wall read 9:26p.m.
"Whew," Brittany exhaled, as she placed the gowns on a chair in the waiting area and fought with the umbrella to close it.
"You are lucky you made it," a small woman said, turning the open sign on the door over to show closed.
"Thank you."
Brittany sat down and waited for her turn. She was going to be O.K. after all, everything was going to run smoothly tomorrow. Only two more years of interning and she would have enough experience to start her own stylist company.
Just then her phone bleeped and a text appeared from her boyfriend, Jon.
"Have dinner ready when you get home. Kiss," she read with a smile.
xoxo Entrepreneur Girl
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