Eliza - A Fashion Design Story

Eliza want to be a fashion designer more than anything, but she's struggling to reach her goal. She practically lives by herself, as her mum works away from home a lot, so she spends most nights alone, sewing and sketching and wishing. Her friends from the boutique where she works can see her potential, but will she ever act on it and follow her dreams?

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1. Prologue

Eliza sat, with swathes of silky grey fabric gliding over the floor around her. She was cross-legged in the middle of it all, the ripples of crumpled cloth spreading out to every corner of her tiny bedroom. Her fabric scissors sliced through it like a warm knife through butter. She cut slowly, relishing the snipping sound and the gentle splitting of the threads. Her fingers slowly caressed the material, keeping it in place and tautening it. The slashed pieces of fabric started to look like parts of a garment-her idea was beginning to take shape. She lined up the pieces and tried to arrange them so that they looked a bit like a dress. Eliza put her head to one side and scrutinized her efforts. It didn’t look quite like she wanted it to. She had so many creative ideas, but felt that she couldn’t manifest them physically in an accurate way.

Sighing, she darted about, gathering up the pieces of material, and stuffed them into her wicker sewing basket. Again, she turned to the quick sketch of her idea on a crumpled sheet of A4. She couldn’t work out how to make her creation look like the drawing. As she studied it, the sun continued on its steady path across the sky, and the room, which had been flooded with pure sunlight minutes before, was filled with the glowing embers of the dying day, and the light slowly started to fade. Eliza got up and briskly shut the heavy white curtains in front of her French windows, plunging the room into muted darkness. She hurried over to the light switch on the opposite wall, and pressed it. There was a reassuring click, and once again, Eliza could clearly see her shabby four-poster, her white wooden wardrobe and the 30’s-style dressing table. Now tired, she went through her nightly routine (make-up off, pyjamas on, brush teeth, plait hair) and pulled back the gauzy veils that hung above her bed. She gently slipped between her embroidered sheets and her eyelids fluttered shut. 

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