Catwalk (25 page)

Liza Flake raises her hand. “What about if we can’t come to the next meeting?” she asks. “I start my internship next week at Vidal Sassoon, and I don’t think I’ll be able to come.”

“That brings me to meetings,” I say, nodding. “As a team member, you’ll be expected to attend every meeting—that’s two a month. No exceptions. If you absolutely cannot make a meeting, your absence must be cleared with your team leader first—that would be me—and we’re talking documentation will be asked for. So don’t even attempt to offer up an excuse
that doesn’t come accompanied by serious paperwork—doctor’s note, court affidavits—you name it, no document is too official to bring with you if it’s going to support your excuse, okay?”

I notice that Liza has turned as cool as an air conditioner flipped to the MoneySaver switch.

I stop to take a sip of water. “Before we continue, I must humbly ask each of you a very important question. Please feel free to collectively answer honestly: how many of you sitting in this room right now really want to divvy up the hundred-thousand-dollar cash prize, gift certificates from Louis Vuitton, the Limited, Radio Shack—need I go on?—
and
go on an all-expenses paid, two-week trip to Firenze, Italy, next June and open the fashion show at Pitti Bimbo?”

I watch Liza Flake’s face closely to gauge her response. Like everyone else in the room, she shoots her hand straight up.

“Okay, good, because for a second, I didn’t think we were on the same fashion page,” I say firmly. “Now let’s talk schedule.”

I pass out another round of forms. “This is your Catwalk schedule sheet. Every meeting, you will be given an updated one. But right now you must face the fact that your time has become a more valuable commodity than Gianni Versace’s gunmetal mesh fabric from the
seventies. I’ve already told you your task for our next meeting. I think that’s a good start. Any questions?”

Diamond raises her hand. “When do we talk about designing the collection?”

“Next meeting,” I assure her. “I will be given my fashion budget as well as the design challenges we’ll be expected to complete. Last year, for example, the five competing houses had to create an ensemble constructed out of biodegradable materials. Also, the collection must contain five categories. That’s the same every year.”

“I hope this year’s design challenge is edible,” Nole quips.

“Oh, that reminds me,” I say. “On the hookup form, you’ll see a category for child models. We are definitely doing a children’s fashion segment to open our show—because that’s an integral part of feline fatale fashion. So if you know any child models—we’re going to have to have them come in and try out—make sure to write down the contact. We really need about ten guest child models—I didn’t write on the form, sorry,” I say absentmindedly, perusing the form. “They should be under the age of twelve. That’s what’s still considered a child these days, anyway.”

“What if we don’t know any children?” asks Mink shyly.

“That’s totally cool—I mean, fine. As a matter of fact, anything on the hookup form is merely a way for us to pool resources. No one is expected to fabricate connections of any kind. And please—while I want you to eat, breathe, and live the Catwalk competition until that Big Willie statue is in our possession next June, no one should start hanging around schoolyards under the pretense of luring kiddies for our fashion show! Understood?
Vous comprenez? Capisce?
”

“Scratch, scratch, we feel you!” shouts Benny Madina, the tasty morsel with dreads who was Felinez’s male model pick.

“Awrighty, that concludes our business for today. And I just want to say, regardless of what happens over the course of the next seven months, it has been an honor to spend this time with you. I’ll never forget it.” I really mean it. “So, if we could all join hands before we run and state our Catwalk mission together. This is how I would like us to end every meeting.”

I stand up at the head of the conference table and join hands with Felinez on my left and Angora on my right. “If you could repeat after me, please,” I say, bowing my head and taking a deep breath before I continue: “As an officially fierce team member of the House of Pashmina, I fully accept the challenge and obligations of competing in the Catwalk competition.
My commitment to my house must always come first so that I can become the fashionista only I can be. Meowch, forever!”

Afterward, Caterina tries to get my attention as she hovers in the doorway before departing with her crew. I excuse myself from Chintzy, who has run over to give me a folder of tear sheets of ideas. “I can’t give this my attention right now,” I tell Chintzy gently. Now I see what it means to be a house leader: you’re really the gatekeeper of everyone’s dreams locked up inside in a safe place, waiting to be unleashed.

I go over to the door. “Um, thank you, again,” I say to Caterina, even though I know she won’t acknowledge what I really mean. “That worked out okay.”

But Caterina surprises me. “I’m glad,” she says honestly, then switches back her producer gear to drive. “I guess I’ll see you around campus.”

“I hope so,” I say, shifting my gear, too.

Nole walks over with Dame and taps me on the shoulder, then reaches over to give me a series of air kisses on both cheeks. “I made the right decision,” he whispers in my ear.

I nod in agreement.

“So did I win the bet?” Nole asks me, amused.

“I’ll let you unpack my suitcase in Firenze and examine my panty selection so you can see for yourself,” I say, giggling.

Dame Leeds’s eyes open wide. “Oh, no you didn’t, Miss Thing, cut a side deal! That’s a no-no. Put it in the Catwalk Credo—I insist!”

I assure Dame I will.

Now Aphro grabs me to get away from the meeting. “You were fierce,” she says, hugging me.

Suddenly, I look at one of my best friends and understand what Ms. Fab was trying to tell me earlier about surviving in the fashion jungle. I look Aphro squarely in her face and tell her, “No, no,
you
are fierce.” This time I mean it.

Abracadabra fierce:
Snap-your-fingers fabulous. As in, “Did you see the paisley jumpsuit that opened the Betsey Johnson spring show? It was abracadabra fierce!”

Angle for a dangle:
To maneuver a situation or jockey for position. As in, “Don’t be fooled by Nole’s protestations. He’s just trying to angle for a dangle. I know for a facto he’s dying to go to dinner with you.”

Back in the day:
Referring to an earlier era. It is a sign of pure respect in the fashion game to pay homage to the players who came before you and paved the way for your future reign.

Battle:
When one voguer challenges another, in or out of a fashion show or ball.

Beam me up:
Star Trekkies started this riff. Now fashionistas use it to put someone on blast or to vibe with someone. As in, “Zeus can beam me up anytime, cuz I’ve fallen for him!”

Big Willie:
A major player in the fashion game.
Someone who has earned street cred. Can also be a reference to the “Big Willie” statue—the prestigious bronze dress-form trophy bestowed upon the winner of the annual Catwalk competition at Fashion International High School. The award’s name was chosen in honor of the school’s founding father, William Dresser.

Blang:
Bling squared. Blinding dazzle.

Blankety:
Blank. As in, “I tried to tell her he’s not feeling her, but she went blankety.”

Bling-worthy:
The opposite of CZ (cubic zirconia) in value and merit. Something or someone who is considered a bona fide “gem.” As in, “You’re always falling for the CZ. Tadashi is the most bling-worthy banana in the bunch.”

Bona fried:
Bona fide to a crisp. Legit. As in, “Trust me, Ms. Boucle, I have a bona fried reason why I didn’t do the homework assignment.”

Bootylicious:
Fierce footwear. As in, “Those Shimmy Choos are bootylicious.”

Braggedy:
Someone who flosses like a broken-down braggart. As in, “Did you hear Chandelier carrying on about her job interview? She is so
braggedy.
”

Bumpin’:
Purely fabbie.

Bwitch:
Phat.

Cacophony:
Discord. Phony flow. Talking loud and saying nothing.

Cadeau:
French word for
gift
or
present
. Pronounced “ca-doe.” A useful expression for kitties who want to milk it:
“Je voudrais un cadeau s’il vous plaît!”
Translation: “I would like a present, please!”

Catiac arrest:
When you just can’t take it anymore. Much more painful than a cardiac arrest. As in, “If I don’t get nominated, I’m going to have a catiac arrest!”

Catitude:
That special feline quality that leaves the peeps gaspitating and proclaiming, “She’s fierce!”

Catwalk:
A narrow, usually elevated platform used by models to “sashay, shimmy, and sell” designers’ clothing and accessories during a fashion show. The British term was originally coined after designer Lucy Christiana, aka Lady Duff-Gordon, staged the first fashion show in London in the early 1900s.

Chat noir:
French for “black cat.”

Chica-boom!:
Extra special. Extra fabulous. As in, “That dress is definitely chica-boom!”

Churl:
Girl
and
honeychild
rolled into one. As in, “Churl, please, you’d better be on time or I will drop you like a bad habit.”

Click, dial tone, good-bye!:
Dropping the communication line on someone who is getting on your nerves.

Coinky dinky:
Coincidence. Can also have a sarcastic connotation. As in, “I got the pink lizard
Shimmy Choo slides for Christmas. And so did you? What a coinky dinky!”

Coin slot:
The crack between the butt cheeks. As in, “Excuse me, Fifty Cent, can you pull up your pants, please, cuz I’m not trying to insert two quarters in your coin slot!”

Crossing paws:
Playing your cards right. Making things happen. Hanging out with a purpose. As in, “While you were out lollygagging, I was crossing paws with Caterina coming up with ideas for our Catwalk collection!”

Crunchy:
Someone who is cute, but not as tasty as a Toll House morsel. As in, “Check out the crunchies. Twelve o’clock dead ahead.”

Crutch:
A best friend or true crew member. As in, “You’d better come with me to the dentist, because I need my crutch.”

Dolce dreams:
When you’re pining for more than polyester and only Dolce & Gabbana will do.

Down for the twirl:
Down for a specific cause. Or, a fashionista ready to rip the runway.

Drop an Altoid:
A minty hint. A tasty hint. As in, “Who’s opening Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week? Come on, drop an Altoid!”

Ducats:
Loot. Cash. Benjamins. As in, “Just put some ducats in my bucket and we’ll be
skraiight
, awright?”

Extra crispy:
Angry or annoyed. As in, “Don’t take that extra-crispy tone with me, young lady.”

Fabbity:
On the fab tip.

“Faboo is not you”:
Despite your daydreams, you are not fabulous.

Fabulation:
A compliment for fierceness. As in, “Mamacita, that outfit deserves a fabulation.”

Fashion forward:
Taking inspiration from all around you instead of following trends.

Fashionation:
An obsession with fashion in a good way.

Fashionista:
A male or female who is true to the fashion game.

Feeling wiggly:
Feeling jittery, nervous, hyper-anxious.

Feline fatale:
A girl with catlike qualities—feminine, graceful, mysterious—who also possesses strong instincts. As in, “Ciara is such a feline fatale.”