Fashionably Late by Olivia Goldsmith Page B

head in around the corner of the door.
    “Stephanie! Hooray! You made it into the city in one piece! All ready for work?” Karen smiled at her niece despite her panic. Oh, God! How could she have forgotten? Today was Stephanie’s first day in her internship, but neither Jeffrey nor Casey had been able to come up with something for her to do. Karen could just have her help out Janet, but photocopying would be such a drag. Karen had meant to do something about this before, but with all the other worries she hadn’t gotten to it.
    She looked at her niece. The girl really was adorable. She had that lovely fresh coloring that couldn’t be faked later either with makeup or lighting. Only youth and health brought that. And she had a perfect size-eight body. Karen considered for a moment. Was she a perfect size eight? Maybe Stephanie could fill in as a fitting model.
    Tangela was sometimes such a pain. In the Seventh Avenue world there were two very different kinds of models: fitting and runway. Fitting models didn’t have to be young or beautiful (though it didn’t hurt), but their bodies had to be perfectly proportioned. They were used as mannequins and from the originalţcut to their measurementsţall sizes were made simply by adding or subtracting inches. Since fit was all important, a good fitting model, one with the right proportion, could work steadily and earn a lot of money. The wrong fitting model could ruin a whole line. In his early days, Ralph Lauren had designed with his wife, Ricky, in mind.
    He used Buffy Birrittella, a petite girl like Ricky, as a fitting model for all his shirts. Even when they were sized up, the shirts never fit any woman who wasn’t proportioned like Buffy. Meanwhile, Susan Jordan, easily over forty, was still used by three of the designers in 550, and her opinion about what felt right and what didn’t could make or break a design.
    Yet you never saw poor Susan in a show. She just didn’t have the look and never had. Poor Tangela had perfect proportions but lacked the look.
    She could make a good living as a fitting model, but she wanted more.
    Runway models (who sometimes were also used in showrooms) didn’t have to have quite so perfect proportions, but they had to be attractive, young, and with a look or attitude that put them across. Karen had learned from shows how important it was to have the right girls. The right girls could make magicţthey could make bad designs look good and old things look new. That’s why the hot models could get the money they asked for.
    Karen looked at her niece appraisingly. Maybe she’d do as a fitting model. She’d have Mrs. Cruz measure her. Stephanie had no confidence, no attitude, but she might make a good fitting model.
    Maybe it wasn’t just guilt, charity, and nepotism that had brought Karen to hire her: the girl might be useful. But what in the world would Karen do with her now?
    On her first morning, shouldn’t her aunt take Stephanie out for breakfast or, at the very least, give her a tour? But Karen simply didn’t have the time. She looked at her watch. She’d already lost more than an hour of prime design time. She paused. Maybe Janet was in. She buzzed her secretary and gratefully smiled when Janet’s thick, nasal voice came in over the intercom. “Could you come in here?” she asked, and smiled up at Stephanie.
    Janet came in behind the girl.
    “Stephie, you know Janet, don’t you? Janet, schedule half an hour with Stephie for later in the morning. Could you take her now and show her around? Then bring her in to Mrs. Cruz to have her measurements taken.”
    Very casually, Karen added, “Maybe you’ll help out in the fitting room.
    Is that okay, Stephie?”
    The girl nodded, her eyes big. Karen smiled. “You’ll just spend the morning in the showroom and the afternoon watching me work with Tangela.
    She’ll explain a lot about what we do. Okay?” Stephanie nodded her head again and Janet ushered her out.
    Now, Karen stared