SOLSTICE

Warning: Contains some provocative words

This is my favourite season. Why? I hear you ask. For starters, it brings with it hot and dry conditions, these conditions result in activities such as swimming and surfing, these activities bring about lots of bikinis and swimsuits. Before you start rolling your eyes thinking I am just another pervert, I should add that I am a design major from Michigan State University. You see, having been the only boy in a family of four girls, during the summer holidays these types of attire were the norm in my homestead and as such, my early designs were mostly of swimsuits.

To most this may sound like non-sense, but, let me assure you that this was golden knowledge. Unlike other types of clothing, Swimsuits are meant to complement the wearer’s body. No one wants to walk around the beach feeling like they’re in a parachute, and as such, I had to make sure I got all the measurements right. As people have different body shapes, designing swimsuits made my attention to detail pop out from a young age.

Designing swimsuits is by far no easy task, most people feel naked even with layers of clothes on them. Striking a balance between being fashionable and staying along moral lines, is something that all designers go through at some point, and being a thirteen-year-old with a strict Catholic mum and elder sisters hell-bent on testing her faith and patience, this was a high rope I walked on time and time again.

Despite all this, the advice and harsh criticism I got from both my sisters and mum, developed me into a ‘battle-hardened veteran’, whilst most of my classmates and friends growing up were beaten into submission by their surroundings, it took more than words to stop my wagon. By the time I got to campus, I had developed such a tough skin that not even ‘The Shredder’ could get me out of his class.

Who is ‘The Shredder’ you ask? He (or rather) it, was your worst enemy in design class. Trust me when I tell you; Hell Has No Fury as The Shredder. ‘Lizzy your designs look like they want to run away from your canvas’ ‘George I think the devil would rather die than wear anything from your catalogue’ ‘Nathan I would consider wearing one of your suits…if I was being lowered six fit under’ ‘Chloe no amount of money or reward can make any model get on the runway wearing that dress.’ If you think that those were mean comments, think again, I once saw ‘The Shredder’ rip a fellow student’s entire designs to pieces just because she had used the wrong colour palette. Mind you those were only draft designs.

Having been raised in abject poverty, ‘The Shredder’, believed that nothing was ever going to fall on your lap. Terms like ‘Survival for the fittest’ and ‘The weak must be cut out’ defined his way of teaching and living. Unlike most classes in University that had a cap to the number of students who could enroll, his, was free for all, not that it helped though, seeing that a month into our first trimester the number had dropped from a thousand to two hundred and fifty. The number reduced gradually over the four years, and by the time we graduated, only 30 of us were left.

Unlike other teachers, ‘The Shredder’, didn’t care about terms like ‘easing in’ or ‘introduction phase’ he just threw you into the dark, murky, shark-infested waters. His classes felt like boot camps for suicide squads. For him, it wasn’t a matter of how many times he embarrassed, annoyed or down-right made you feel worthless, but how many times you could get up, dust off the cobb-webs, and soldier on. “It is a cold and brutal world out there, this life does not belong to your Babushka. No matter who you think you are, it will pound you and keep you down if you let it.” He would often say in a heavy Russian accent.

Regardless of his reputation, Mr. Aleksandr Brodsky’s class was the most sort out design class on campus. Having worked for Valentino, Jimmy Choo, Lacoste, Calvin Klein, Dior, Chanel, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and having dressed Hana Jirickova, Crystal Renn, Cara Delevingne, Natalia Vodianova, Adriana Lima, Karlie Kloss among other high notable models and celebrities Mr. Brodsky was the Crème de la Crème of the fashion world, and even though he took the phrase ‘brutal and unforgiving’ to new heights, surviving his class gave you a ninety percent chance of getting into any fashion house you desired.

After graduation, most of the remnants got high-paying jobs in fashion houses while others (including myself) went private choosing to start our own. House of Luxury, or simply HLux; was the name of my clothing line, and although office suits (both male and female) were what I had focused on for a majority of the line’s existence, a run-in with a childhood friend had rekindled my love with swimsuits.

It had been six years since I had introduced the summer attire to the company, and saying that it had been a success would be a major understatement. Three of the last five sales had sold out hours after going live, and based on the recent marketing reports I was observing, we were expected to surpass last year’s sales by three times. 

 “Someone looks extremely happy, I think I’ve won this blouse before,” Michelle said walking into my office.

  “To be honest it does look worn out, this is what happens when you wear things from our competitors.”

  “You bought me this for me, Nathan,” 

  “Did I…? I must have been planning on firing you.”

  “You wouldn’t last a week without me”

  “Probably, but 7 days is a long time, and I know a lot of young and ambitious people who jump at the opportunity to work for HLux”

  “I wasn’t talking about the company, I meant you couldn’t last a week without me,” she said locking eyes with me 

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “Yup”

  “If I win, I reduced your salary by thirty percent.”

  “When I win, you stop beating around the bush and come see my parents.”

  “I don’t beat around the bush”

  “Are you sure…?”

  “A hundred and ten percent sure, the only time I beat around the bush is when am shaving.”

Michelle laughed out at this comment. 

 “Here are the documents you asked for, plus the Italians agreed to your proposal. They are in town for the week and want to have a one-on-one conversation with you.”

  “What Italians?”

  “The Italian investors.” 

  “I thought they weren’t interested…how were you able to convince them?”

  “I just showed them how far the line had grown under your watch and why partnering up was worth every dollar they would invest, plus I gave them my word that I believed in you and your vision.”

  “What would I do without you?” No sooner had I uttered those words than I instantly regretted it. Michelle was slowly cleaning her glasses a cheeky smirk on her face.

  “What was that you said about…” 

  “Quiet.” She had won, but that didn’t mean that I was going to let her rub it in. I tried as much as I could to bury my head in the documents in front of me, not that it helped, I had read and re-read them before, all that was needed now was a signature. 

  “Everything ok boss?”

  “Yeah just cross-checking the fine print” 

  “Just sign on page three, I’ll take care of the rest.” That smirk had now been replaced by a wide smile. This was a battle I couldn’t win. “Did you run out of ink? You can use mine”

  “No, it’s fine, just a sec,” I said fiddling with the pen in my hand.

  “Page three”

  “I heard you the first time Michelle”

  “Ok, take your time” She was enjoying every moment “Do you need to borrow my glasses?”

I furiously signed the documents and handed them over to her.

 “You see, that wasn’t too hard was it?” I wanted to throw her off the balcony, Michelle knew how to push every single one of my buttons and if am being honest I kinder enjoyed it. Not many people could read me as easily as she. She had a certain allure about her, from her work ethic to her demeanour, she was more than an employee more than a colleague more than my assistant. The engagement ring on her finger said it all.

  “Do you need anything boss, a cup of tea, juice, perhaps some milk and biscuits?”  

  “Go to hell”

  “Um, I don’t know the way, but, I assure you if you were to accompany me we could…”

  “Get out of my office Miss Johnson”

  “Ok Mr. Edward” she fixed her hair ‘accidentally’ showing the glittering ring on her hand  

  “Michelle” she stopped and turned; emulating a model on the runway “When is the meeting with the Italians?”

  “Wednesday 9a.m”

  “Tell your parents we’ll be spending the weekend with them.”

She nodded and left. There was no need of saying anything else. I stood and stepped onto the balcony staring at the adjacent building while my skin soaked up the warm sun rays. Yes, summer was my favourite season.