The Time-Traveling Fashionista (11 page)

Anna and Louise walked through a glass-paneled set of fancy oak-lined doors. The café was bright and airy, with natural sunlight
streaming throughout the room. The walls were crawling with trellises covered with bright green ivy right down to the black-and-white
checkerboard tile floor. The room was filled with elegantly dressed ladies chatting and daintily sipping from china teacups.

“There’s Lady Duff-Gordon,” Anna whispered to Louise, pointing to a woman seated alone on the far side of the café. She was
sitting in a white wicker chair at a corner table by a grand arched window with an amazing view of the ocean, and she gave
them an enthusiastic wave. Louise froze. She could not believe that she was actually seeing the designer of Lucile, a legend,
alive and in person.

“You should take tea with her. I best be heading back to the suite to take care of the rest of the unpacking before
dinner,” Anna said and then gave Louise’s hand an encouraging squeeze. Once again, she left the room before Louise could protest.

Lady Lucy Duff-Gordon was probably not the most beautiful woman Louise had ever seen, but she was definitely one of the most
stylish. She wore a pastel green lace dress, the color of a dew-stained grassy meadow on a spring morning, which was tied
at the waist with an ivory silk sash. Lucile’s trademark silk flowers were pinned to her breast. She wore an elegant strand
of pearls looped three times around her neck and a simple matching green broad-rimmed hat.

“Hello, Lucile, it’s such a pleasure to see you again,” Louise blurted out, unable to mask the excitement in her voice.

If she could have picked ten historic figures to have tea with, Lucile would definitely have made the list. She was one of
the most famous British fashion designers from the early twentieth century and one of Louise’s personal favorites, right behind
Coco Chanel, Karl Lagerfeld, and Vivienne Westwood. She was one of the first fashion designers to create more feminine and
practical clothes for women—with revealing necklines and long slit skirts that you could actually walk in, not to mention
a very popular line of lingerie. She dressed all of the chicest royalty and stars of her time. There was a whole chapter dedicated
to her in Louise’s vintage book.

“Please, darling, all of my intimate friends call me Lucy,”
she said, rising to give Louise an air kiss on both cheeks. “Tea?” Lucy asked Louise and signaled to a waiter carrying a tray
of scones and cream.

“Please,” Louise said with a nod. “That sounds lovely.” And it really did.

“Isn’t this ship divine?” Lucile asked and took a delicate sip of tea from a fancy bone china cup. “I just love my pretty
little cabin with its electric heater and pink curtains.”

“It’s magical,” Louise agreed, in more ways than one. She tried to sit very still and straight in her rickety white wicker
chair so the towering blue-green ostrich plume protruding from her hat wouldn’t be waving around like a flag in the wind.
She was having minimal success in that endeavor.

“How did you start designing?” Louise asked as a waiter carrying a polished silver platter delivered her a fresh pot of tea.
She didn’t want to seem like a reporter for her school newspaper, the
Fairview Press,
but she couldn’t help herself. She wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity to interview one of her idols in person.

“Well, I suppose it was out of necessity. After my first husband and I divorced, I was left absolutely penniless. It was then
I realized I would have to rely on my own wits and talent to put food on the table. So I set up a dressmaking business, which
had always been a passion of mine. It’s nice to have a man around, but darling, you can’t count on them.”

“Yes, I definitely agree with you.” Louise was happy to discover that Lucy was totally turning out to be a cool, modern woman.
“But how do you create your designs?” Louise pressed on, taking a sip of English breakfast tea and choosing a black currant
scone, which she greedily slathered with raspberry jam, happy to discover that food in 1912 seemed pretty delicious so far.

“The creative process is a magical thing,” Lady Lucy replied, carefully setting down her teacup in its saucer. She had a strong
nose and sharp cheekbones, giving off a distinguished and aristocratic air. “But there is a reason why my dresses are known
as
emotional gowns.
I like to truly know my clients, and I believe their dresses should be a material representation of their personality. The
cut, the color, the style, all of these elements should be a reflection of that particular woman. I see myself as a psychologist
as much as a dressmaker.”

“That’s amazing,” Louise said in awe, wiping a glob of jam from her upper lip. “I see you as an artist.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to dress only the body of the woman; I want to dress her soul,” Lady Lucy continued with a flourish.
“What I am searching for in my designs is both truth and beauty. Just because you may be the same size as another woman, doesn’t
mean you should be wearing the same gown.”

“How wonderful,” Louise said with a sigh. “The dresses are, like, personalized.”

“Of course, my dear. I spent months sewing your pink gown by hand. And I do feel I succeeded in capturing your alluring spirit.
You look absolutely beguiling in it.” Lady Duff-Gordon looked out at the sea through the arched window, lost in thought. “Perhaps
that dress will always carry a little bit of both of our spirits in it. That’s one way to cheat death, now, isn’t it? Sorry
to be so morose on such a glorious afternoon.”

“That’s fine,” Louise said. “I’m generally pretty morose.” Going to Fairview Junior High could put any halfway sane person
in a bad mood.

“I have an unusual idea I want to run by you.” Lucile turned to her, rather, to Miss Baxter. “I had a dream the other night
that there was a parade of walking mannequins, all wearing my dresses. Isn’t that surreal?”

“Like a catwalk?” Louise asked and then took another bite of the yummy scone. “In a fashion show?”

“Not cats, dear,
women
,” Lucy clarified, not understanding Louise’s modern term. “But, yes, it would be a show of fashion. It would be as entertaining
to watch as a play. I would have glorious, goddess-like girls, who would walk to and fro dressed in my models, displaying
them to the best advantage to an admiring audience of women. Exactly!” she trilled, clapping her hands.

“Good idea.” Louise grinned knowingly. “I think that will be a big success.”

“I just met these two peculiar ladies who seemed to know precisely what I was talking about. They want to help style the first
show. What were their names? Glenda? Marla? Never mind…”

“You know Marla and Glenda?” Louise asked excitedly. Maybe they were the same women who gave her the dress at the Traveling
Fashionista Vintage Sale. Maybe they could explain exactly how Louise ended up here. “One woman is tall with red hair, the
other shorter and plainer. Both kind of witchy…”

“Why, yes, I believe those were the two women who were talking to me about the parade of walking girls over a card game this
afternoon. Very eccentric ladies?”

“Yes.” Louise nodded quickly. “Do you know where they may be? It’s very urgent I find them.”

“No, dear, they said they would find me when I needed them. Very peculiar.”

“Well, please let them know I am looking for them if they turn up. And thank you,” Louise added, not able to suppress a twinge
of sadness at the culture she grew up in. She couldn’t believe how much time and thought went into clothes at one time. She
hoped that fashion was not a dying art.

“I suppose I should be going,” Louise decided, swallowing
a last gulp of lukewarm tea. She felt bad leaving Anna for so long, even though she was having such a great time. “Anna is
expecting me.”

“You’ve got me thinking a bit,” Lady Duff-Gordon said, distracted. “I think I’ll stay for another cup of tea before dinner.”

Louise stood up slowly, so as not to disrupt the precarious feathered installation towering over her, and excused herself
from the table. She walked quickly through the café and out on the deck before realizing that she would have to rely on the
kindness of strangers (or rather one particularly cute porter) to show her back to her stateroom.

Anna was waiting for her in the suite with Miss Baxter’s evening outfit laid out on the bed. She had selected a twilight blue
evening gown with a plunging neckline and lace cap sleeves. Louise picked up the dress reverently, admiring the intricate
beadwork on the bodice.

“It’s perfect!” Louise squealed with delight, throwing off her heavy velvet cloak and hat.

However, Louise was not looking forward to being strapped back into that gut-wrenching corset. Not like she had a choice in
the matter. Anna laced her up even more tightly than the last time. It felt like her internal organs were being squashed and
rearranged inside her. How exactly did women wear these on a daily basis?

Anna slid the elaborately layered gown over Louise’s head. The silky fabric swooshed down over her corseted body, and the
tiny navy blue beads made a faint tinkling noise as they
fell down around her. The gown stopped right above the floor, with a little beaded train trailing behind her.

“Oh my,” Anna said with a sigh, shaking her head with disappointment. “You seem to have gotten a bit of sun today.”

Like that’s a bad thing?
Louise wondered, happy to have a slight tan in April.

Anna covered Louise’s face and lips with a thick white pancakey foundation that came from a brass tin. Louise glanced in the
antique mirror behind Anna’s shoulder and was once again startled to see herself, now pale as a ghost. She really hoped Anna
wouldn’t turn around and see the real Louise under all that makeup. Anna used a dark kohl pencil to line her eyes and a brush
to smudge it around. She then applied a creamy rouge to her cheeks, making them pop like candy apples.
Apparently, in 1912, the clown look is in style?

She blotted Louise’s lips with a creamy red lipstick. The color was amazing, like Old Hollywood in a golden tube. She sprayed
her with a different perfume; this one was a little more floral than the last. Not only could Miss Baxter not wear the same
thing twice, it seemed she also couldn’t smell like the same thing twice.

Anna placed a delicate diamond tiara on top of her hair, which she had artfully twisted into a loose knot at the nape of her
neck with a few strategically placed hairpins. Now she was truly a princess, or rather a glamorous actress, with the crown
and all.

Looking her over approvingly, Anna handed her a delicate gold mesh clutch to hold her lipstick and perfectly accessorize the
look.
Voilà.

Of course, Louise had no idea how to find the first-class dining room by herself. Anna insisted on drawing her a map on a
piece of White Line stationery from the writing desk so that she wouldn’t be late for dinner. Louise took the map and left
the suite, slowly making her way through the grandiose corridors, teetering on Miss Baxter’s pinching blue satin high-heeled
shoes. The carpeted hallways all looked the same, and she was relieved to have some direction.