The Dress Disaster
by Norah Murphy
Celeste Daniels eagerly rushed to the door as she heard the mailman’s truck pull away. As she stepped outside, several red and orange leaves nested themselves in her hair. She ran to the mailbox, hoping that the next issue of Young Designers had arrived.
Celeste’s dream was to become a world famous fashion designer. Because she was only eleven years old, she figured reading magazines and books on the subject, not to mention making sketches whenever possible could at least give her a head start. Opening the white metal mailbox, she pawed through postcards, junkmail, and bills, looking for a shiny, colorful magazine cover. “Aha!” she exclaimed as she spotted a glossy orange corner. Celeste whipped the magazine out of the mailbox and with the more boring mail in her hand and the magazine under her arm, she headed back inside.
Later, with a glass of apple cider and a never-before opened magazine, Celeste retreated to her room. Next door to her five year old sister, Lilly, it wasn’t as quiet as she would have liked, but at least the walls were relatively thick.
Settling into her big blue chair bed, Celeste took a sip of her cider and opened up the magazine. Skipping past the Table of Contents, she flipped to the contest page. In big, orange letter she read, “Fifth Annual Fall Fashion Contest!” In smaller print, it gave the details. “Design a dress of any sort. Mail your design to the address on page 2 and you could be featured in Young Designers AND have your design made into a dress that will be sold at Clothes Candy stores everywhere!” That was all Celeste needed to read. “This could be my big chance!” she thought. She dropped the magazine and rushed over to her design studio.
It wasn’t really a studio, but it was the closest thing she could get. She sat down on the hot pink swivel chair, placed a fresh sheet of paper on her desk, pulled the privacy screen closed, and got to work.
She drew, then erased, scribbled and shaded, colored and cut. Glancing at the contest rules every so often, a dress slowly emerged from the tip of her pencil. Soft brown sleeves formed, then an orange collar, and a thick ribbon belt.
Celeste was halfway done with what she thought was her best design yet, when her mom called her down for lunch. Taking her pencil and dress with her, Celeste trotted down the stairs and into the kitchen.