Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I blink, surprised at his assessment. Clay and I have jokingly called ourselves Nora’s bitches, but not in front of other people. However, considering slang is a tricky part of language, I’m inclined to give Tobias the benefit of the doubt, especially considering he’s the one who flipped from French to what sounds like British English in an instant. Actually, all traces of his French accent have disappeared and he sounds as though he walked out of one of the Kingsman movies, posh and upper-crust. Meanwhile, I’m over here with some Southie Massachusetts still coloring my speech . . . of the only language I know.
Molly goes back to her karaoke, wailing out, “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mothahhh—”
“Ah, afraid I’m not familiar with that tune. Perhaps you could introduce me to it,” he requests of Molly, who agrees with a wink. “To that end, I would suggest that we all attempt to speak English to one another, as it is the one language the five of you have in common. I understand that sometimes there are difficulties, and I’m happy to assist with any forgotten words. I speak French, English, both dialects of Japanese, Cantonese, Mandarin, Russian, Spanish, Italian, and a little of a few others. I’m a bit of a polyglot.”
“What does sexing lots of people have to do with languages?” Molly hisses.
“That’s polyamorous, and only with the consent of all involved parties,” I inform her quietly, my attention trained on Tobias.
“As I was saying before I began bragging about my linguistic prowess” —he grins, not the least bit chagrined at his boasting— “I am here to introduce you to the basics of our Fashion Females Under 25 event. We will have three weeks of competition, with a pre-selected theme introduced at the beginning of each week. You will create five looks for each show, which will be attended by a hand-selected grouping of Madame Corbin’s fashion-obsessed friends, who will provide feedback on your work. Of course, our winner will be chosen at Madame Corbin’s discretion. Questions?”
When we’re silent, he continues. “However, before the competition begins, we felt it would be exciting to have a bit of fun.”
“Fun?” Katarina echoes, sounding like she doesn’t know what the word means. Whether that’s the language barrier or her serious demeanor, I’m not certain.
“Yes, each of you described your personal style on your application with three adjectives. Sometimes, the opposite of your style is even more telling of who you are, of the boundaries you’re willing to push beyond, and the creativity you possess.”
“I’m not liking the sound of this,” Molly murmurs.
“Plus, as I am a bit of a jester and Madame is a queen, she does enjoy a bit of entertainment. A razzle dazzle.” He wiggles his fingers in an approximation of jazz hands. “We propose that you choose three adjectives that are the opposite of your style as listed on your application. For example, if you described your style as ‘dark’, then perhaps the opposite would be ‘bright’ or ‘light’. We have prepared a selection of . . . shall I say, ‘supplies’, for your use. This will be a challenge to see how well you think on your feet. No sewing, no patterns, only simple styling using the selections we’ve provided. You will be your own model for this challenge. Be brave, be bold. Make no mistake, there is nothing too over the top, and you are being judged on your willingness to create an alter ego that is diametrically opposed to who you are as a designer.”
Yori raises her hand. “Excuse me?” When Tobias looks at her, she begins speaking quickly in one of the languages Tobias apparently speaks because he answers her back smoothly.
“I’m happy to translate to Russian or French if you’d like, as I did to Japanese for Yori,” Tobias offers when he’s finished. Both Katarina and Beatrice decline.
The door opens and Tobias gestures to the blonde woman who escorted us all in. “Please follow Sarah down the hall. You will have ten minutes, no more. Be back here, ready for presentation time, and don’t be late. Madame Corbin will be waiting for you, so enter with pizazz! Remember, entertainmahnt,” he says, not quite with an accent but rather with droll flair.
We all rush from the room, following Sarah to an area with racks filled with various clothing items. There’s one marked Tops, another marked Bottoms, and several smaller ones marked Dresses, Coats, Sweaters, and Accessories. There’s also a table full of other styling options.
There are so many options, I’m instantly overwhelmed and completely forget what my original description of my style was. But when Molly, Katarina, and Beatrice dive into the racks and Yori rushes to a table, I finally get my feet moving and follow suit.
Classic. Elegant. With a twist.