Fashion Face-Off Read online

  Also by Sheryl Berk and Carrie Berk

  The Cupcake Club Series

  The Cupcake Club

  Recipe for Trouble

  Winner Bakes All

  Icing on the Cake

  Baby Cakes

  Royal Icing

  Sugar and Spice

  Sweet Victory

  Bakers on Board

  Vote for Cupcakes!

  Hugs and Sprinkles

  Fashion Academy Series

  Fashion Academy

  Runway Ready

  Designer Drama

  Model Madness

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  Copyright © 2017 by Sheryl Berk and Carrie Berk

  Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover illustration © Helen Huang

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

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  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1. Seen On-Screen

  2. Let the Games Begin!

  3. The Perfect Mix

  4. Copycat

  5. Lights, Camera, Fashion

  6. Guess Who’s in the Green Room?

  7. Meet and Greet

  8. Nothing Stays the Same

  9. Poker Face

  10. Ready, Set…Pets!

  11. Assignment: Fashion Diva!

  12. Runway Redo

  13. The Final Four

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Back Cover

  To Stacie, Lauren, and all the ECUSA and East Coast Starz kids who rock the runway and dream BIG!

  “Pass the popcorn, will ya?” JC refused to look away from the TV—not even for a split second.

  Mickey Williams sighed. Sometimes her fashion school bestie could be such a diva! Yet over the past two semesters, since she left Philadelphia to attend the Fashion Academy of Brooklyn (a.k.a. FAB), she’d gotten used to his quirky behavior. FAB now felt like home, and so did her aunt Olive’s brownstone on the Upper West Side of Manhattan—although Mickey missed her mom and counted the days till she could take the train back to see her.

  On that first fateful day, JC had shown Mickey around the school, sat with her at lunch, and filled her in on all the ins and outs of what made FAB the top training ground for future fashion designers. He warned her about which teachers (Mr. Kaye) were super tough and which students (Jade Lee) were trouble. Jade tried her best to belittle Mickey’s style and talent, but JC was always there to back her up with a snappy one-liner: “Gee, Jade, jealous much? Green is so not your color…”

  If Mickey was feeling frustrated or confused by a homework assignment, JC knew just how to cheer her up, usually with a pep talk and an eighties pop tune. And whenever she was in a pinch—fashion-wise or otherwise—he came to her rescue.

  She looked at JC and shrugged. He could be annoying, but he was an awesome friend. “Okay, here’s your popcorn,” she said, waving it under his nose.

  “Oh, and Madonna needs one of her treats.” He motioned toward his Chihuahua’s dog carrier in the corner of Mickey’s living room. “Would ya mind?”

  “Really?” Mickey groaned. “Do I look like a waitress?”

  JC glanced at her quickly. “Actually, you look more like an eggplant today.” He pointed to the purple hair chalk she’d used to highlight her hair. “I’m digging the violet velvet bomber jacket though. Nice tailoring.”

  Mickey smiled. She’d gotten up at 5:00 a.m. to put the finishing touches on her latest design. Of course, JC had noticed it.

  He also noticed that one of the contestants on the show had suddenly burst into tears. “No, Nigel!” he yelled at the sobbing designer. “You can do it! Don’t crack under the pressure, dude!”

  Mickey laughed. While she loved Assignment: Fashion, she was nowhere near as obsessed with the show as JC. For him, the finale was like the Super Bowl of style.

  “He’s got to man up!” JC shouted at the TV. “Don’t fumble this, Nigel! This is a make-or-break fashion moment!”

  JC sat back down and shoveled more popcorn in his mouth. “Oh, and lemonade… I could use a refill.” He handed Mickey his glass, still staring at the screen.

  “So let me get this straight,” Mickey said, observing the four semifinalists frantically attempting to make an outfit out of tinfoil and paper streamers. “They can’t use fabric at all…not even muslin for the foundation?”

  “It’s the ‘out-of-left-field challenge,’” JC explained. “You have to work with whatever they toss you—in this case party paper goods. The materials are never anything you’d think of using for an outfit.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Mickey said. “I’d be great at this. I once made a T-shirt out of cabbage leaves.”

  “I recall.” JC fanned the air with his hand. “My nose will never forget it.” He leaned forward, practically crawling inside the TV screen. “Did you see that? Did you see how Ignacio did that whipstitch on his cardboard moto jacket? With Helga Floom barking at him to get his model and his butt out to the runway?”

  “I saw, I saw,” Mickey said, offering Madonna a tiny bone-shaped biscuit. “And speaking of barking…”

  She noticed that Madonna had curled up on the wool throw on the couch—and was getting crumbs all over it. “My aunt Olive is going to be home soon, and she won’t appreciate a dog being here.”

  “A dog? Madonna is not a dog. She’s a fashion icon,” JC said, defending his pup. He scooped her in his arms. “This black satin dress took me hours to make. Did you notice the pearl detail around the neckline?”

  “Very impressive,” Mickey replied. JC was an absolute genius when it came to designing dogwear. “But Olive’s more of a bird person…”

  Just then, Mickey heard a key turning in the lock. Olive walked into the foyer, flustered as usual.

  “You wouldn’t believe the day I had, Mackenzie,” she called to her niece. “I had to stay overtime just to get those legal briefs in decent shape.” Mickey knew that her aunt took her job as a legal secretary very seriously.

  “I invited JC over,” Mickey warned her. “And Madonna.”

  “Who’s Madonna?” Olive asked. Then her nostrils zoned in on something. “Is that liver I smell?” She walked in to find Mickey, JC, and a tiny dog in a dress sprawled on her couch.

  JC examined the treat box. “Yup, liver and bacon…Madonna’s fave flavors.”

  Olive cringe
d. “I’m a vegan,” she said. “The smell makes me queasy.”

  Mickey quickly grabbed the box and tossed it into JC’s bag. “Right, which is why we are putting them away.” She elbowed JC in the ribs. “And apologizing.”

  “Ow! Sorry. Madonna’s a liver lover. She can’t help herself.”

  Olive rubbed her temples. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to sleep early. Mackenzie, please make sure you tidy up after your friend leaves.”

  Mickey nodded. “Absolutely. ’Night, Aunt Olive.”

  When Olive had closed the bedroom door behind her, JC put his feet up on the coffee table. “I think the top three will be Ignacio, Illiana, and Bootsie,” he said, sounding like a sports announcer. “Ignacio’s got skills…and a cool head. Iliana is a wizard with mixing patterns. But Nigel can’t take the pressure. He’s falling apart at the seams. I think it’s gonna be Bootsie for the win. She’s got a classy aesthetic. Very forties glam.”

  “No way,” Mickey insisted. “It’s gotta be Ignacio. I have never seen anyone so creative. He’s always thinking out of the box.”

  “Classic will trump fashion forward. Wait and see,” JC asserted. “The judges always go with what’s the most marketable collection.”

  “And you don’t think out of the box has a market?” Mickey asked, slightly peeved. Was he actually dissing her design style?

  “I do, but in general, I think more shoppers are nostalgic for the old days,” JC insisted. “Marilyn Monroe, Grace Kelly, Jackie O… Who wouldn’t want to dress like those women?” He held up his dog. “Madonna certainly does. This dress was inspired by Audrey Hepburn.”

  Mickey groaned. “She’s a dog. She’s not going shopping in a department store.”

  “Shh!” JC hushed her. “She’s very sensitive about the d-o-g word, so let’s not use it.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Mickey said, pulling a couch pillow over her head. “JC, you’re ridiculous.”

  “Talented…stylish…genius perhaps. Ridiculous? Never.”

  Just then, the commercial ended, and the judges on Assignment: Fashion took their seats.

  “That was quite an amazing runway!” the host, supermodel Helga Floom, enthused. “This was a very difficult decision, but we have our top three finalists.”

  JC grabbed Mickey’s hand. “I can’t stand the suspense! Spill it, Helga!”

  “Nigel, I’m sorry,” the host began. “Your assignment here is over.”

  JC jumped up and down on the couch. “Yes! Yes! Yes! I called it!”

  Mickey clicked Off on the remote. “And we’ll have to tune in next week to see who wins—Illiana, Bootsie, or Ignacio.”

  “Bootsie has it in the bag,” JC said, tucking Madonna into her dog carrier and slinging it over his shoulder.

  “And I say it’s Ignacio,” Mickey teased him. “Care to make a small wager?”

  “Whaddya have in mind?” JC replied, raising an eyebrow.

  “The loser has to make the winner a fabulous outfit—to his or her specifications.”

  JC held out his hand to shake on it. “Done. I’m going to want a varsity jacket for Madonna in violet velvet,” he said. “With a big M on the back.”

  Mickey ushered him out the door. “And I want a black satin skirt,” she said. “You can hold the pearl trim and maybe give me something a little more original.”

  JC snickered. “I’ve watched thirteen seasons and never not picked the winner.”

  Mickey smiled back. “Well, there’s a first time for everything!”

  A week later, Mickey was working on her assigned reading for her History of Fabrics class when JC called to brag.

  “Told ya so! Bootise takes the win.”

  “What?” Mickey asked. “Did I miss it?” She had completely forgotten the new episode of Assignment: Fashion was on tonight.

  “Uh, yeah. It’s been on for the past hour. What have you been doing?”

  “Reading about how flax fibers are spun to make linen.” She sighed. Mickey picked up her textbook and recited aloud: “You pick the plants and then soak them in a tub of water until the hard outside stem rots away and leaves the long, soft fibers behind…”

  “Ooh, fascinating,” JC teased. “I’m on the edge of my seat.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mickey said, flipping through the chapter. “I have twenty more pages left. We’re having a quiz tomorrow, and I have to know everything from linen to pashmina.”

  “Well, when you’re done, you can start designing Madonna’s varsity jacket. Time to pay up. A bet is a bet.”

  “Fine,” Mickey said. “It sounds a lot more fun than my homework!”

  • • •

  The next morning, Mickey was so tired from studying, she was almost late to her first period Advanced Apparel Arts class.

  She stifled a yawn as Jade Lee strolled in and sat down at her drawing table in the first row. She was dressed to the nines as usual in a pink satin bomber jacket, a white sweater dress, and a rhinestone tiara-like headband. Mickey noticed that her shoes sparkled as well. Jade had on the latest Saint Laurent metallic booties in a silver camo print.

  Her twin brother, Jake, trailed behind her, also dressed in the finest couture: a Comme des Garçons sweater that Mickey had seen in Vogue for three hundred and fifty dollars. She reminded herself that the twins’ mother, designer-to-the-stars Bridget Lee, gave them everything. Mickey looked down at her own boots: a pair of old, scuffed Dr. Martens she’d speckled with neon-yellow paint. She curled her feet behind her under the chair. Jade would get a good laugh out of them.

  Just then, Jade spun around in her seat. “You,” she said, addressing Mickey.

  Mickey looked around. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Did you hear anything about Kaye’s final?”

  Mickey shrugged. “No. I mean, why would he tell me?”

  Jade rolled her eyes. “Because you’re always trying to get in his good graces with your hideous fashion fiascos.”

  “Her designs aren’t bad. They’re original,” her classmate Mars piped up. She, of all people, understood what it was to be avant-garde. Her jewelry was made out of everything from safety pins to bottle caps. “Mickey’s got a really great eye.”

  “Yeah,” chimed in South, another classmate. “I like your fringe vest. It’s very Coachella.” South’s dad was a famous rap star, so she was always hanging out in the VIP section at concerts and festivals. “I think I saw Kendall Jenner wearing one like it. Then again, she was a few rows behind me…”

  Jade smirked. “Pullease. I doubt Mickey even looked in the mirror this morning.” She pointed to Mickey’s yellow-plaid skirt, black suede vest, and purple-striped sweater. Mickey had found all the pieces in a thrift store back home in Philly and reworked them.

  Jade took out a pocket mirror from her purse and held it open to Mickey. “See? You look like a color-blind bumblebee.”

  Gabriel was seated next to Mickey and laughed out loud. “Sorry, Mickey,” he apologized. “But you gotta admit, that was pretty funny.”

  Mickey shook her head and sighed. She knew better than to get into an argument with Jade. It never ended well. Instead, she buried her head in her sketchbook and remembered what her mom always said about bullies: “Don’t engage. Ignore them.”

  Gabriel changed the topic back to Mr. Kaye’s final. “The man is merciless. I failed last year, which is why I had to take this class over.”

  “What was it like?” Mars asked.

  “It was sick,” Gabriel said.

  Jake gasped. “That hard?”

  “No sick…as in ill,” Gabriel explained. “We had to use hospital gowns and surgical scrubs for the materials. Personally, I thought my use of the stethoscope for a necktie was a nice touch, but Kaye called it ‘too literal.’ Then he gave me an F.”

  “I’ve heard that Kaye’s finals are the ha
rdest in the entire school,” South said.

  Mickey gulped. Up till this point, she’d been feeling pretty confident that she would earn straight A’s her first year at FAB. But now she wasn’t so sure. She glanced at the clock on the wall: it read 8:59 a.m. Their teacher was never late—which meant he would be bursting in the door in five…four…three…two…

  “Get your sketchbooks out!” boomed a voice. The students jumped to attention as Mr. Kaye swept in, threw his jacket and briefcase on his desk, and began to dictate.

  “Congratulations, you’ve all made it to the final assignment of the semester,” he said. “Think of this as the World Series of Advanced Apparel Arts. The question is, who will strike out and who will knock it out of the park?”

  “Oh no.” Gabriel sank in his seat. “Here it comes. When he gets punny, it’s never a good thing.”

  “Each of you will be given uniforms and gear to use for your material.”

  Jade’s hand shot up. “A uniform? You mean like what my chauffeur wears every day? Ewww…”

  “No, I mean a team uniform—baseball, basketball, football, hockey.” He pointed to a large cardboard box in the corner and walked over to it. “I think you’ll find this a nice sampling.” He pulled out a New York Knicks jersey in royal blue and orange. “You may supplement your provided material with additional fabric and trim costing no more than thirty dollars.”

  This time, Jake raised his hand. “So you want us to redesign a team uniform?”

  “I want you to turn it upside down, inside out, and on its head,” Kaye insisted. “I want to see imagination in repurposing these clothes.”

  “So we should use them to make something totally not sporty,” Mickey asked. “Like a tuxedo out of a tracksuit.”

  Jade chuckled. “A tuxedo? Out of a sweaty shirt that says ‘New York 23’ on it? Yeah, good luck with that.”

  “If you can do that, I see a home run in your future, Mackenzie,” Mr. Kaye said.

  “This is worse than the sick challenge,” Gabriel moaned. “I’m doomed.”

  “You will have two weeks to complete your look. And do not, I repeat, do not disappoint me.”