Loved In The Kingdom Of Beauty

1.

With her head bent, and her raven black hair creating a movable curtain obscuring her face, Jacqueline sat in a comfortable armchair, in her father's study while reading the latest technical journal with regards to the fashion industry. Fashion design was not only about drawing pretty pictures, but design, combined with solid technical knowledge, would raise her head and shoulders above the ordinary in her chosen profession.

She was the epitome of concentration as she sat immersed in the books, journals and magazines about the different kinds of industrial sewing machines, overlockers, cutting machines and needle sizes, absorbing and retaining it like a desert cactus.

With her younger brother, Calvin always playing sports with his friends, and working parents, she had the house to herself. She liked sitting in the study because it gave her a sense of ownership. She spent so much time there that her father, Henri gave her her her own shelf, which made life easier, because she did not have to cart books back and forth to her room.

The sun streamed through the broad windows while the venetian blinds cut regular bands of sunlight across the red Persian carpet, which partly covering the hardwood floor, created a warm and cozy ambiance.

There was so much knowledge to be gained, and not enough time in which to do it. That was the story of her life, and it hasn't changed since she was six years old. Every year and with every occasion, when asked what she wanted as a present, the answer was always the same, "A doll, please." She had a huge collection and treasured every one of them. 

Unlike other girls her age who played tea parties with their dolls, she undressed them, washed their clothes and swapped outfits. She would stand back and look at the effects for hours. At that young age,  her level of concentration was lazer sharp, and she never forgot to which doll the original dress belonged and which outfit did not fit which doll quite right. 

Jacqueline was unable to verbalize her thoughts clearly, but she knew something was wrong and would never dress that doll in that outfit again. 

The seeds for the intrinsic qualities of shape, color and construction struggled to reach maturity, and with every passing day, it grew  stronger. Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night, went straight to one of her dolls, changed her outfit, got back into bed and fell asleep with a smile on her face.

When asked what she wanted to do when she grew up, she would answer, “To dress my dolls.”

Her mother, Candice, was concerned that she didn't go out and play with other children, and encouraged her to do so. 

"Why?" was the usual question. It exasperated her mother beyond belief. 

"Why?" she would echo. "So that you can make friends and learn how to interact and share with other children."

"But I have friends."

"They are dolls, Jacky, they don't count."

Jacqueline tried as best she could, but the games they played and the things they talked about bored her to death. 

At the age of ten, she begged for and received a hand sewing kit. Her mother, who had accepted her daughter's quirky behavior had, together with the sewing kit, bought her a bag of fabric offcuts from a fabric wholesaler. Jacqueline's hands had trembled as she clutched the bag while tears of joy shone in her eyes. Mrs. Dupont had never seen her daughter so emotional and caught up in the moment, was about to shed a few of her own.

She took the bag to her room, emptied it on the floor and sorted it into color coded bundles. She didn't come down to dinner and Mrs. Dupont took her something to eat. 

Her mother sat by her, showed her how to thread the needle properly and demonstrated the single needle lockstitch as well as how to reinforce the beginning and end to prevent her stitches from unraveling. Jacqueline's eyes were glued to her every move and word, and when her mother had said, "Now you try", she jumped for joy. Watching someone else doing it was easy, but she soon discovered that executing it on your own was hard. She persisted, and it took her days to get it right. 

"Look, mom.” She placed her final attempt in her mother's hands. 

"It's beautiful, my darling. You're getting there."

Since then she became unstoppable, and one couldn't have asked for a happier child on Earth. 

At the age of twelve, Jacqueline received her first domestic sewing machine and decided to make clothes for herself. She wasn't proficient in patternmaking yet so she unpicked one of her blouses, used it as a pattern, cut around it and painfully slowly, produced her first garment. After many attempts and lots of wasted fabric, she was finally happy with her first garment when it started to look like the real thing, and it gave her imagination wings.

Candice knew her daughter was fond of sketching, and on rare occasions, Jacqueline had shown her her sketches, but she didn't pay much attention.

One day she visited her daughter in her bedroom to have a mother-daughter chat about the lack of friends, and boys in particular. She was getting a little worried about the fact that not a single boy had made his appearance on her doorstep. 

While talking, her eyes wandered around the room and it came to rest on the open sketchpad on her desk. She picked it up and looked at it in amazement. 

"Honey, this is beautiful.” There was genuine admiration in her voice.

"Thanks, mom. They are not as good as they should be, but I'm working on it."

"They're perfect, honey."

"And, I've decided to become a fashion designer," Jacqueline said. Her statement was casual but final.

"That's great Jacky, but you know how expensive those private colleges are and we don't have that kind of money."

"It's alright, mom, and I already know which college I'm going to."

"Do you mind telling me, young lady?"

Jacqueline mentioned the name of the college, and Mrs. Dupont fell silent. She knew the college by reputation and that they produce top-level graduates who were headhunted in the industry. If only they could afford to send her there, her daughter would be set for life.

"Don't worry, mom. I'll work hard and win a scholarship, which is available to children from disadvantaged backgrounds."

"We're considered middle class my darling. They don't consider that a disadvantaged background."

"Still…"

Jacqueline's voice trailed off and hung in the air.

Mrs. Dupont had looked at her daughter throughout their conversation and she had noted the quiet determination in her eyes, voice and tone. It was not as if Jacqueline was speculating about her future. She spoke as if her acceptance into the college was a foregone conclusion and her future as a designer secured. 

Mrs. Dupont feared for her daughter and hoped she would still be alive when the worst came to the worst.

That night in bed, Mrs. Dupont relayed the conversation to her husband. He listened and when she was done he said, "You worry too much. If Jacky says she's gonna do something, she will do it, and there's nothing anybody can do to stop her. Remember how stubborn she's been all her life? And besides, she's an A+ student. Let's cross that bridge when we get to it. Maybe she'll change her mind. Who knows?"

"You should have seen and heard her. I was scared. I  hope everything works out well for her."

At the age of fourteen, Jacqueline had worked out a very tight schedule for homework, sketching, sewing, online art tutorials, and her only leisure activity, which was swimming. 

Whenever she had time, she went to the beach and dipped head first into the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean. She loved the sun on her face, the smell of the fresh salt air and the soothing velvety feel of the water as she cut a straight line through the undulating water. It filled her with a sense of peace, and gave her time - not to dream - but to map out the next step towards reaching her goal.

Born with a rare talent, Jacqueline saw further than most people and reached higher than the average person, and she made it look effortless.

~°~

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