Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing Read Free Page A

demonstrating an easy way to use your arms to measure a body. I gently embraced this lady’s mother in a bear hug. How was I to know she had a bad case of shingles? She sorta freaked out on me and—”
    “That’s enough,” Carly said, scribbling more notes. “You better not do that here.”
    “Never have. Never will,” Scarlet said. With her ankles crossed and knees tilted together at the side, she kept her composure even though her heart was beating crazier than a caffeinated Chihuahua.
    Carly paused halfway down the page and peered over her chunky white eyeglasses. “OK. Let’s do this. What do you want to talk to me about, Scarlet?”
    “Well,” Scarlet began. “I originate and stitch all my ensembles, and each one is based off of fashion icons of the silver screen. This one I’m wearing is inspired by Kim Novak’s suit from
Vertigo.
” Scarlet smoothed her hands down her crisp gray lapels. “My Etsy store is quite the grandstand online. I also have three boutiques outside of Arizona that carry my other dresses. And I know you’ve seen my fashion blog, DaisyForever.com. Its horn has been tooted in
USA Today
and the
Arizona Republic
. I guess you could say I’m a star on the rise!”
    Carly tilted her head, squinted, and nodded in faux fascination, as if she’d never heard any of it before (Scarlet made sure she heard it every day). Scarlet played along because she was over-the-moon proud to be one of her thirty employees. She worked her rump off to prove it.
    She’d spent the first month at Carly Fontaine Studio unrolling bolts of fabric and trims to measure them for accuracy (something she now did from sight alone). She glued hundredsof sequins and feathers to headbands, fixed stubborn sergers, threaded a gazillion bobbins in advance, and sorted thousands of crystals by size and color. By the end of her first year, Scarlet had reorganized, upgraded, and improved the efficiency of Carly’s storage, production, fitting, and showcase rooms. Her second year brought on the title of Personal Assistant to Carly, which put Scarlet on call 24/7 for every crisis. Scarlet proved her value throughout the past two years and that’s why she knew Carly would offer her a promotion. If not partner, at least designer. If not designer, at least a raise.
    Carly replaced the lid to her pen, slipped it in her black leather pencil cup at the corner of her desk, and closed the folder. She took a generous sip from her checkerboard-patterned mug, set it down, and smiled.
    “Again, what would you like to discuss? We have five minutes left.”
    “I want you to make me partner,” Scarlet said.
    “Partner?” Carly repeated. “Well. That’s quite a big aspiration, seeing as I’ve never considered having one. I built this little empire while I went to school. And I did it all on my own. I would never bring on a partner. Even if I did, they’d have to have the gift, the experience, plus the degree to go with it. Why would I change that now?”
    It was the million-dollar question Scarlet had been waiting for.
    “Because… I am… a dress healer.”
    “Excuse me?”
    Scarlet excitedly scooted her chair close to Carly’s desk, hunched over, and stared her down to ensure full attention.
    “Carly, I’ve been designing and sewing since the third grade. I
dream
about designing. I’d rather sketch than… than… breathe! I don’t see fabric and thread as just fibers. To me, theyare storied seasonings ready to be stitched into submission. My eyes devour colors, my mouth waters because I can practically taste them. I tune into each and every article of clothing I meet, deconstruct it in my head to create an improved version. I can apply all of this to your business and take it to a higher level.” She then looked dreamily toward the ceiling and raised her hands to form a frame. “We could combine our best traits into one line and call it…
The Scarly
.”
    “I’m a dress healer too.” Carly shrugged,