A Frock Tart Finds Romance

As always, I must thank some friends for their help with this story. Reading, encouragement and advice.

Thank you very much Melissa, Nicole and Randi for their generosity and assistance. I own all the mistakes, they're mine and no, you can't have them.

*****

Oh dear, life. Why did it have to be so hard?

I glanced across the canteen at Brooke who sat with a small group of colleagues. Their conversation seemed bright. There was laughter, and a few gentle playful nudges as the banter went back and forth.

I watched like a love sick puppy. She pushed her food around her plate, clearly more interested in the conversation than the sustenance.

She was so attractive, her personality so open and inviting. The way her eyes sparkled, the fluorescent light flickering like sparkles of luminescence.

She probably wouldn't get hunted down by magazines for cover shoots. She was probably way to curvy for that. She loved food, that was obvious. Her breasts full, her work tunic well stretched by her bounty.

I sighed, sipped my cup of tea and finished my slice of bacon and egg pie. Leftovers from last nights dinner.

The hooter announced the end of our lunch break and we all headed out back to the factory floor.

Sitting behind my sewing machine, I set about trying to get through the day. A shit job, that paid shit money. Life seemed much harder these days. University had been fun, lots of parties, friends and it had been so invigorating.

Post Uni, it was a sinking realisation. my desired career choice proving so much harder than anticipated. Clothing design was now more than ever controlled by the larger department stores. The franchised brands. To make ends meet, I'd taken the job as a seamstress out of necessity. The unemployment benefit didn't pay enough to cover needs. Rent, food, car registration, internet and phone. It was overwhelming.

Yeah, I could phone my parents, and they would happily send money, but. That wasn't how I saw my life. I craved independence. Hated relying on other people. I hadn't expected the world to fall at my feet after leaving Uni, but I did hope for some opportunities.

I'd sent my resume off to hundreds of companies. All to no avail. I was an untried fashion designer. My portfolio might be full of wonderful creations and designs, but I knew I was untested, unproven. It would take more than a degree and a small collection.

That was my life. Work sewing, and home to my tiny flat and again sitting behind my sewing machine. At least in the evenings I worked on my own designs. Always building towards a showing somewhere. A door opening, a chance to show what I was capable of.

Not surprisingly, I sought adventure of some kind. I wanted something nice. At lunch, while not lusting over the luscious Brooke. I'd leaf through some travel brochures. With the Christmas holidays approaching I wanted, no needed a get away. Somewhere fresh. I wanted a nice south seas vacation. Rarotonga, Samoa or even Fiji.

The prices though were astronomical. Aussie was more my price range, but the Gold Coast didn't really do it for me. I wanted that Island paradise experience. Lagoons full of crystal clear azure waters, white sands. Palm trees, and coconuts. Oooh, pineapples. Yeah, that's what I wanted.

There wasn't a lot of chance for conversation during work hours. It wasn't a sweat shop, but we were all expected to work. Mindless continuous and boring. Everyday a repetition of the previous.

Five O'clock finally arrived, and we streamed like monkeys waiting to clock out. Time cards...

"Hey, Violet. Long day huh."

I turned to see Jasmine waiting behind me. "Yeah, god it gets harder every day doesn't it."

"Sure does, god my arse is numb from sitting behind that damn machine all day."

"You gotta get up and move around a bit girl. You'll end up with seat arse."

She laughed, giving me a nudge in the back. "Oh yeah, and what would that be?"

"You know, a big wide flat arse."

"Oh right. To late. I think I already got it. Well that's what my hubby Tim, says."

"Oh please... Your arse is great."

With exchanged grins, Jasmine asked. "Wanna stop at the pub on the way home? I could use a drink?"

"Yeah, sounds like fun. I'm sick of doing nothing every night."

It was nice to have conversation. Somebody to talk to. At the pub, we got drinks and found a table. Seemed like we weren't the only ones after a drink.

Jasmine stood up waving, calling loudly. "Hey, Brooke, over here."

When I looked back at the bar, there was Brooke and a couple of the other girls from work. With drinks in hand. They wandered over. Jasmine Brooke and the other girls all hugged.

"You all know Violet, right?" Jasmine said questioningly.

"Nah, I've seen you around in the canteen." Eileen one of the other girls said. I stood and we all completed the introductions.

"How long have you worked at the factory?" Siona asked.

"Six months I guess." I replied.

"How come we never talked?"

"I'm a bit shy. Don't really socialise that much."

I glanced at Brooke, who had fallen into conversation with Jasmine. God, she looked so stunning.

The conversation opened up, and jasmine asked about what I did other than work.

"I'm working on my own fashion line. I finished Uni, and couldn't find a job using my designer skills, which is why I ended up at the factory."

"Wow, you design?" Brooke gushed, her voice full of curiosity and doubt.

"Yeah, got a degree to prove it."

"Are you not very good or something?" Sena asked. "Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was. Why couldn't you get a job?"

"The major labels are all closed shop. The private ones although they showed interest. Offered nothing. They can't or won't take a chance on an unknown."

"So what, you're making your own line?"

"Yeah, actually. I make all my own clothes. I never buy anything."

"Wow, no way. You made what you're wearing?"

"Yeah, even the underwear."

"Holy comoly." Eileen gushed, the admiration clear. "That is seriously bad arse, and that outfit. Damn it looks good."

"Thanks, it's old though. I made this while I was at Uni."

"Shit girl. You should just make them and sell them online. Seriously like. I'd buy that."

I blushed a little. "Thanks."

"Nah, hang on, Violet." Jasmine said. "She's onto it. Like why don't you make some and sell them online?"

"Because I don't have the money to buy the fabric. I'm struggling each week to pay rent, and buy the fabric to finish my line. I'm stuck. Lots of ideas, but no way to bring them into the world."

The conversation swirled around the table, and other topics took over. Mostly men. Jasmine, and Eileen were the only married ones. Sena, started going on about her current boyfriend, and the whole table erupted in laughter. Even I had to laugh. She was really funny.

Watching Brooke laugh made me shiver. She didn't laugh with her mouth. Her whole body laughed. It was completely beguiling. My heart did take a beating when Brooke started talking about her boyfriend. My emotions slumped.

The one aspect of my sexuality I struggled the most with was... Identifying partners, other gay women. Gaydar, or intuition. Call it what you will. Mine didn't work, and after being deeply embarrassed at uni, I was now reluctant to make approaches.

Once bitten, as they say. After another round of drinks, it was all over, and we all headed for the door. There was a mutual hug from everyone, and just like that. We were all heading in different directions.

The bus ride home felt cold. My imagination had built up quite a back story to Brooke and my relationship. When she found out I was gay. She fell in love with me, and we lived and worked together.

I smirked at my silliness. She wasn't gay at all. She had a boyfriend, and judging by her comments. She liked him a lot. That didn't exactly leave me with any avenue of entry.

Oh well, at home I fired up my sewing machine and sat with a slightly heavy heart. My silly girlish romance dissolved around me. I finished the hem on my formal gown. It was going to be the centre piece of my new line. A derivative of the little black dress. It had grown into more, a full length gown, but trim, not flouncy or showy. A beautifully fitting dress, the highlighted everything that was wonderful to be a woman. A slit long enough to expose a pair of gorgeous legs. The bodice low enough to show the delicate lace of the somewhat exposed brassiere.

"No use." I sighed to myself. I'm such a lightweight. Two glasses of wine and I'd lost focus. Food and an early night seemed like the only answer. Laptop in hand, I snuggled down in bed. Scrolled through the latest society pages taking in all the designer fashions.

Trends changed so quickly. The only real way in was classic designs. Those styles still looked good, timeless pieces that stood the test. Still, there was always inspiration to be had. I did see some things that tickled my fancy. Made me think, "what if?'

Yeah my sleeping dreams all filled with colours and patterns, and bloody Brooke... Why couldn't I wash away her image. She was unavailable...

The canteen seemed abuzz. Usually I sat alone, but suddenly I had friends. Jasmine ran her hands over the stitching on my blouse. "Damn girl. I like this, and the quality of the sewing. I'd never have known you made it. Like it looks store bought."

"That's the idea isn't it?" I replied.

When Brooke sat at our table, she said hi. Everybody welcomed her.

"Violet, I was thinking about what you said at the pub last night."

"Yeah, which part?" I replied dubiously.

"You said you're stuck. You have the ideas, but no capital to bring them to fruition."

"Yeah..."

"Well, like, do you have a website?"

"Nah, that seemed like a waste of time. I don't have anything to market."

"Yes you do." She replied. "You are what you market. You said you made all your clothes, that everything you wear, you made. Right?"

"Yeah."

"And you said you have some items for your new range already finished."

"Yeah."

"Well that's what you market. It doesn't matter that they're not for sale. You need to announce to the world you're here."

"Ahhhh, okay. But how does any of that help?"

"Have you heard of crowd funding?"

"I guess, but I dunno how it all works."

"It's easy, you put together a story about what you're trying to achieve. Then you ask people to invest. You either use their funding as a loan and repay later, or you presell."

"Pre-sell?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah, people can see your designs, and pay for them up front, like today. Then you make it and deliver it, with a healthy mark up."

"Yeah but I don't have time. Between work and trying to finish my line. I don't have a lot of time."

She shook her head slowly, I could see her mind working overtime. "Let's say it was a fairly basic design. Say a mid thigh length polyester skirt. How many hours would you put into fabrication?"

"I don't know. A lot of variables. Is it pleated, does it have a belt, or elastic. Design of course. But perhaps from start to finish. Two hours."

"If you had an order for ten of them.?"

"Less obviously. I would cut them all out together. It would just be sewing."

"Right, so that's doable isn't it. Let's assume you sell each one for say eighty bucks. How much of that would be profit?"

"Assuming I could get eighty bucks, then sixty would be profit. One bonus working here. They let me buy the off cuts and unused materials at a ridiculously cheap price."

She looked a little stunned. "Wow, how come we're just hearing this now. I didn't realise we got those sorts of benefits."

"You don't. I made a special deal with them when I took the job. Lower hourly rate."

"Wow, I guess it makes sense if you can sell some of what you make. Do you do markets or anything?"

"Nah, all my energy at the moment goes into my line. I'm trying to get it finished as soon as possible."

The table went silent as we ate. "How come you know so much Brooke,?" I asked.

"I studied business and marketing. I even have a degree to prove it." She said with a smirk.

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

"I was never really interested in business as a career. My parents pushed me into going to Uni. I chose that one because I thought it would be easy."

"Surely business would be better than working here?"

"Probably, but I dunno. This seemed like an easy option. I'm saving up to go travelling. I want to travel around Europe. At least with this job I can just walk away when I'm ready to go."

With lunch hour winding down. Brooke restarted the conversation. "You actually need a web page, Violet. If you're serious about building your own label, or brand. You need a public face. Somewhere people can find you. Like it or not. Social media is important."

"Yeah, I get that. It was covered at Uni. I'm just hopeless with IT and shit."

"There are plenty of easy to use free website producers. They're pretty simple to use. If you had a couple of free hours one night. I could run you through it."

"You'd do that?" I gasped.

"Yeah, sweet as. We're only talking a couple of hours. You buy some drinks an I'll give you a hand."

"Choice, that'd be sic."

"I could do it tonight if yah keen?" She said, her head tilted on a cute angle. Her eyes drawing me in.

"Yeah, works for me. I'll cancel my appointments."

"Yeah nah... If you're busy we can do it another time."

"I was joking. As far as appointments go. You're it." I said sadly.

"Sweet, tonight it is. I'll meet yah out front after work aye?"

"Yeah. No worries. See yah then."

I walked back to my station with my head spinning. Brooke was going to help me... Nah, I had to be dreaming.

The day passed slower than usual. All I thought about was Brooke, and how interested she'd been. Colour me stunned.

"Hey girl." She called out as I walked out into the coolish evening air.

"Hey, are you sure you wanna do this?" I muttered as I approached.

"Yeah, course. I got nothing happening tonight. I'm looking forward to seeing your designs."

"Um, I usually take the bus?" I said almost apologetically.

"Not tonight girl. Tonight we travel in style. I rode in on my scooter."

"You ride a bike?" I gasped disbelievingly.

"Scooter babe. Don't get to excited. I carry a spare helmet. Have you ever ridden before?"

"Nah, never."

"Then you're in for a treat. Just hold on tight and follow my lead. If I lean, you lean, simple really."

"Lean..."

She giggled. "Shit, you are a novice. To go around corners we move our body weight into the corner."

"Oh right. I'll just do what you do."

She nodded, "That's what I said aye."

Behind a low brick wall behind the factory sat her bright yellow scooter. She unlocked the helmets and passed me one. Totally embarrassed. I couldn't figure out how to tie the chin strap. She shook her head giggling as she leaned closer. Her fingers working the clasp. She jumped on, and hit the starter. The motor sounded loud, like a wildly screeching cat as she revved the motor. I climbed on behind her hesitantly, but the moment I was seated. We zoomed out into the traffic to the sound of tooting horns.

"Hold on tight." She yelled back at me. As if I needed encouragement. I glued myself to her back, and held on for dear life.

"Oh shit!" I screeched as she twisted the throttle and we overtook a couple of cars.

She laughed loudly at my fear. I think it encouraged her to go even faster. "We have to stop at a wholesaler." I yelled over her shoulder.

If I thought it was scary glued to her back. It was even scarier while I tried to hold a couple of bottles of wine.

"You okay?" She asked as we parked outside my flat.

"Can't you hear my knees knocking?"

She laughed loudly. "I took it easy."

I felt a little embarrassed. My flat looked like a tip site. There were scraps of material everywhere. A couple of dress makers mannequins, with fabric hanging on them. Rolls of fabric, and my sewing machine set up on the dining room table.

Then of course there were the unwashed dishes stacked in the sink.

"Sorry about the mess." I said with a shameful cringe.

She laughed. "Yeah nah. It's cleaner than my place. I don't even have an excuse."

"Neither do I." I said with a pouty smirk.

A rack in the corner held the start of my fashion line. Brooke, wandered over and lifted off each garment one by one. Lifted and scrutinised each piece individually. She ran her fingers up and down each seam. Held them up to check the hems,

"Wow, the seamstress work is fucking dope girl. Holy shit, I see why each one takes so long."

"Thanks." I replied, handing her a glass of wine. "I know I can't maintain that level of perfection, but I want the first ones to be perfect."

"Yes, I get it. Wow, I gotta say. I love the designs as well. I mean, it's not what I was expecting."

"What?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound patronising. Compared to the clothes you wear. These are like wow."

"Yeah, well day to day casual is me. My designs aren't meant for me." I didn't want to sound defensive or whiny.

"Nah, I get it girl. You got your own style, and that's choice, but you gotta think. What you wear, is what people see every day. They'll associate what you wear with your brand. You gotta step up a little. You have to walk your talk girl."

"You think?"

"Oh hell yeah. Take me, what I said about being shocked. It's because I've seen what you wear into work. I mean they're quality items, but they're not hip, they're not relevant. Your designs are hot, on point. You have to lift your game sister."

We found some space on the sofa, and we sat with our bottle of wine. Brooke pulled her laptop from her bag, and powered it up.

"Right, let's get you a website."

"What's the name of your brand, your label?"

"Violet Rose."

"Oooh, I like that." Brooke said with an approving nod. "What do you want on the front page?"

"Well, I have always envisioned a purple rose. Like violet, deep purple."

"Yeah, I bet we can find something." She started scrolling through thousands of images, until she found one. "What about this?" She asked.

The image, was a dark red rose, a single stem, with three leaves, and a vivid budding rose. It was more red than violet, but it had little glistening water droplets sitting on the petals.

"If, it was purple, it'd be perfect." I gushed.

"Give me a chance girl. Shit, we're only just getting started."

Using a digital image editing tool, she coloured a few of the petals. "What about that?" She asked proudly.

"God, that's perfect." I said astounded by her skills.

"Choice, now, I'll leave a few of the inner ones the dark red, sort of show a transition."

"Nice." I replied. "It's dope as, I'm stoked."

With the new emblem sorted, she asked. "What about text, do you want something traditional, or something modern?"

"Defo, modern. I like old European texts, but I think something wispy, like smoky or something. Like appearing through a mist."

"Oh yes, that'd be ace." She replied. I watched as she manipulated the text, then let a misty haze drop over it. Like looking through a steam covered shower door.

"I love that. God, you're so talented."

"Anybody can drive a mouse." She replied. "What say we order in something spicy?"

"Whatcha got in mind?"

"There's a Thai place just up the road. I noticed a sign on the door saying they do deliveries."

"Choice, sounds enticing. What would you like?"

She smirked, as she replied cheekily. "I'm not sure. I've never eaten Thai food. Why don't you surprise me."

I checked on line, and ordered a Pad Thai, thinking it was usually pretty mild, and the Stir-fried noodles, most people liked. I added a khao pad. If she didn't like the noodles, she might like the fried rice. A khanom mor kaeng, for dessert.

I sat watching her build the web site. Totally captivated by her talented speedy fingers as she typed and drove the mouse with determination. I couldn't believe how quickly she put together something so professional looking in what was really only a few minutes.