I don’t think differently enough. I don’t have a voice. What did her knitwear sidekick say? I have no flair. What exactly is flair? Isn’t it like sophistication or charm? How is it a thing to have? How do I get it, they didn’t tell me that. During the last crit she called me a stupid bitch. When I stand in front of her and her henchmen in the morning, what do I say? It’s not finished. I don’t have all my garments. I’m still not ready. She’ll think she’s been right all along, that I’m a stupid bitch. And the fashion show just around the corner.
If only my opinions were stronger, I could shoot her down. I need to be more opinionated. If I could talk louder. If I yelled back at her like some of the others, she’d respect me more.
Maybe this whole fashion thing was a phase. And I thought I’d been guided here. But it all seems so at odds with me. I need to work on my personality. Lose some weight. Shout more. Everyone’s so loud.
I just don’t know if I’m cut out for it. What are my influences? Come on, I should know that, at least. What’s my trademark? If it’s all about selling yourself, then I’ll be worth nothing. Do I need to perform more? Be more obsessive?
What was the last show I went to? The last film I saw? She’ll likely ask me something like that. A test. I should think of something arty farty. I can’t tell her that I watched The Muppets Take Manhattan last night on TV. Unless I say it ironically.
I envy her favourites. I envy Edward. He takes it all for granted. Maybe that’s my problem; I should be more lackadaisical. Trying too hard doesn’t look good. I should look like I don’t care. That’s what I’ll do tomorrow.
I should be more neurotic. She finds that interesting. I’m too plain spoken. Boringly straightforward for her tastes. I should probably be more confrontational, just argue the point for the sake of hearing my own voice over hers.
She used to like my work, back at the start of the year. Grades good. The novelty of me has worn off. My designs don’t have staying power. She bores more easily than most and therefore thinks I’m boring. But what’s the alternative? I’ve gone into debt just to be called a stupid bitch.
It might not matter anything to her but my collection matters to me. I’m not bored by it. It’s going to be brilliant when is’s done. This is too important not to take seriously or to pretend I don’t care. What’s she to me anyway? An old jaded college tutor that I’ll soon be well shot of. I will finish, no matter what she thinks tomorrow.
My collection will show during Fashion Week. Then we’ll see who’s the stupid bitch.
Sorry for the appearance. We are under construction. I am under construction.
To find out how Kat fares during her big presentation, you can buy Silk for the Feed Dogs here.