THE FABULOUS DESIGNER

CHAPTER II

THE LOFT

Arriving at the loft the following week, a young man named Bobby greets me. He is busy painting silk on one of the tables. Bobby tells me that Michael has left a note for me on the front desk. Upon reading it, I see it lists my tasks for the morning and states that Bobby will train me today.

I go about my tasks, including cleaning up M.K.’s work table, giving the zebra print its final coats of black, and helping Bobby with his new designs. Michael soon enters, greeting us all good morning with a sly smile; he sits quietly at his desk, going through papers.

I get from Josephine the garments to ship. There are two incredibly groovy, quilted silk jackets in bright psychedelic colors, both quilted with gold thread. Next, I pack up three, black and white zebra print ensembles. Each has wide slacks and a long, calf-length kimono of the same pattern. The jackets are trimmed in rhinestones. I cover them in plastic dry cleaner bags and pack them in two large, flat boxes with tissue paper. On the desk are the invoices with shipping information. I address the cardboard boxes to Fred Segal in Los Angeles.

Meanwhile, a lady named Joy arrives. Michael has described her earlier as being "a big Yenta." Joy enters the loft in a scruffy full-length fur coat; she barely greets us, even after Bobby and I coyly attempt to welcome her. She heads straight to Michael’s desk and gets into a heated conversation with him. From the sound of it, she is negotiating her sales commission.

When Joy’s clients arrive, both Joy and Michael end their conversation immediately. Joy still seems to be fuming as she kisses her fussy, looking, uptown friends. The new arrivals are quite a sight, clad in floor-length mink furs and highly lacquered Palm Beach crash helmet hairstyles. I cannot help myself from estimating the number of minks slaughtered for each coat. After we greet them, they quickly dismiss us working boys and go straight for Michael’s jugular.

Bobby and I try not to pay attention to the unwanted air of dreadfulness now flowing through the loft. Together we mix the colors of Bobby's choice. I buff while Bobby paints, I focus on the overwatered ficus trees across from me.

Michael does his best job schmoozing them, but as soon as Josephine brings their outfits out, trouble begins. Neither of the ladies seems pleased with the fit. Josephine is busy pinning and re-pinning their hemlines and seams. One lady has the zebra look fitted while the other is in a similar cut, but of dark chartreuse, painted silk. They both keep looking in M.K’s huge rolling mirror with apprehension. ”It’s a trick mirror... a skinny mirror.” as they look down and fuss with the details of their new outfits. Josephine and Michael try to be reassuring; both are now looking to Joy for her approval, which she does give. All seem discontent and disparaged.

The new ensembles look lovely to me, at least much better than what they came in wearing. I move over to the table where Michael has painted the Sunset Tree print and begin to give all colors a second coat of dye. Meanwhile, Michael is pacing around in his black clogs, making broad sweeping gestures with his arms, and exaggerated comments. Finally, they seem to settle their affairs, Michael and Josephine, review several pages of notes on changes to be made as the ladies head to the back of the loft to change in privacy.

While waiting for the elevator, the two clients watch me at work. They examine the almost finished table of painted silk I am giving second coats of dye to. The blond one purrs, " Michael, you must make me up a smock and slacks in this print, exactly like the one I'm purchasing. Joy will add it to my bill." Michael seems to be mumbling something under his breath.

Joy does not leave with them and immediately gets back into the original argument about her commission. Before lunch, she exits, barely saying goodbye to us and looking a bit defeated. I feel for her.

At lunch, Michael and Bobby get into a heated conversation that sounds to me like a lover's quarrel. I leave to run errands for Michael - mainly to make a bank deposit, pick up a prescription of valium, and the post office. When I return, I'm delighted to see Ed has arrived - he’s always so professional. Everything is much calmer in the loft, Edward, Bobby, and Josephine are all captivated listening to Michael’s gossip about his afternoon appointment. The Contessa Ariana - a nobility of Italian descent. I immediately recognize her name, as I had previously read about her "Return from the Amazon" party at Studio 54 in Interview magazine.

When the Contessa arrives, it is an entirely different scene than the morning. She enters with her mother, who she quickly introduces to Bobby and me. Both ladies are dripping wet with melting snowflakes upon their collar to heel Blue Russian Sable fur coats, which I am to find hangers for. I try to refrain from being judgmental as the tall Contessa arranges her long luxurious, dark, brunette hair. After a greeting of double cheek kisses, I am perplexed with the essence of her perfume- both obvious and sublime.

Contessa, examining our tables of silk drying under fans, "Oh dear they're...absolutely gorgeous! Michael, my love! It never ceases to amaze me the beauty and talent I always find in your loft! The

Baroness chimes in, "So true, just amazing! How are you, Michael!"

A brouhaha of gossip soon sputters up in the rear of the loft where the two divas luxuriate around the rack, trying on everything that appeals to them. I hear catty laughter and hushed whispers, more laughter, some hisses, and then sneers.

The Contessa looks stunning in everything she tries on, which she does in plain view of everyone. Abandoning the hassle of re-dressing behind the curtains; slipping silks and more silk looks over her black lacy lingerie, I try not to stare. I am soon called to pack up all their pieces in garment bags. At the elevator, the Countess and Baroness exchange another round of double cheek air kisses with all of us.

Contessa, "Thank you, Michael, for loaning us so many of your fabulous designs. Believe me, I will create all the buzz you need!" She blushes and arranges her hair over her coat with the opening of the elevator door.

"So much for a profitable afternoon from those two," I think to myself. "They certainly were fun, and charming nonetheless." Michael has slipped into his pair of black clogs again, which he is not quite steady in. I notice as he shuffles loudly back and forth on the loft's wooden floors as he works with Josephine. I think to myself. Maybe his valium has kicked in.

I work on finishing up the Tree print and re-stretching more tables of silk. Bobby has me heat a mixture of paraffin and beeswax for a white and black polka-dot print. While I mix up the black dye for the background, a new boy arrives - Mark. "Michaels new boyfriend," I believe.

Mark is very friendly and extremely interested in everything I'm working on; he hardly notices Bobby, who seems to be giving him "The Cold Shoulder, as well." Mark and Michael retreat to the privacy of the loft's rear area.

Bobby, Josephine, a new seamstress that Josephine is training, and I continue with our work. At nearly 5:00 p.m. a middle-aged male friend of Michael’s drops by unexpectedly - “Fred”? Is the most regular person I have encountered since I began working at the loft. Immediately, he starts to scheme with Michael on how he could be “Raking in more doe."

Exhausted with hands stained ink-black, I've had it for the day. I say my goodbyes and leave.

The next morning, I arrive at the loft to find it peaceful and quiet. Michael, Josephine, and her seamstress are the only ones there. I guess I appear a bit moody and dis-hearted.

Michael, “ Is anything wrong? You seem distraught, and sad?” “When I left to return to N.Y.C, the last thing I did was release my dog, Pehr from his run; he hasn’t returned yet." Michael feels for me, but quickly dismisses my moodiness and offers me the task of painting two new tables of silk of my own designs, "Whatever you want to paint."

Excited with this opportunity, he guides me to gather images to work from by diving into his stash of tear sheets, postcards, and printed memorabilia from the '40s and '50s.

“I want to paint flowers, One table of vases of flowers, the other more flowing and free-form,” Michael recommends I look at his bookshelf. “Monet, and Renoir, feature many oil paintings of floral bouquets in vases.” After sharing my favorites with Michael I decide on a Monet painting - mostly blue and green background colours, with a bouquet of pale pink Peonies, in a wide crystal-cut glass jar.

On the other table of silk, I intend a “Free-form of flowers without anyone specific reference material. I want to paint from memory, and my imagination, a floral landscape featuring my favorite spring flowers - purple Lupin.”

I start with the Monet, first by identifying all the left-over shades of blue. Pale-blue, too bright, and dark Cobalt, Ceruleum, and teal and midnight blue. I mix a new silver and test these colors on the edge of the stretched silk. I then mix a medium violet, two shades of lavender, one warm, the other cool, several greens - emerald, olives, mint, and seafoam, plus my favorite - Shagreen - a silvery tone from the forties, “Like the colour of tortoiseshell sunglasses.”

Confronting the blank, massive table of white silk, I jump in by outlining with a Chinese brush a silver line for the bouquets, placing them "Ying, Yang," as Michael has directed me to do.

Michael, “Ying-yang offers better placement possibilities for when Josephine cuts."

Once I get the outlining done, I begin filling in colours into their appropriate flowers, petals, leaves, and jars, by following my intuition. Michael encourages me, as I keep stepping back to look, "Work fast, and it will look much fresher. Address the entire table at once - equally with shape and colour, then move on to your second table to do the same thing, while the first one dries." In retrospect, this is the best silk painting advice I've ever heard.

Left alone to work on both tables I start painting my second table of silk by sketching out the shapes of Lupins and Hollyhocks with the Chinese brush dipped again in the silver dye. Immediately after I sketch them out, I drop in shades of lavender - for hollyhocks, violet for the Lupine, and a rose quartz, pale pink and coral for more hollyhocks, and scattered roses. The lupine is upright, coming from the base of the length of silk. I add mint and celery green for the stems and leaves and highlight them with emerald and dark green. Sensing that the design needs something a little somber, I add giant Blue Bells in the same icy pale blue, from the Monet table.

Michael, taking a break from his phone calls, comes over to take a look, "Absolutely Stunning!" he declares.

"What color do you imagine the ground being?

"Butter Yellow, It’s Suzie's favorite colour! She loves pale blue, roses, and that coral color; Lupin is so beautiful!"

I must have had a perplexed look on my face, having no idea who "Suzy" was?

Michael, "What?"

"Who's Suzy?"

"Aileen Mehle, she’s the gossip columnist for the New York Post. Everything she writes becomes fashion scripture! Ed, Josephine, come look at this; It’s for Suzy! See that melon colour? She absolutely loves that Mellon color. Butter yellow background - it's her favorite colour."

Josephine, "I have a length of feathered marabou in the same melon, wouldn't it be fabulous in a cocoon coat for her!"

Ed, "That would be too fabulous! Josephine, Andrew, I Love it, good job! You're so talented!"

Josephine," I can't believe how talented you are, Andrew!"

Michael, "Yes, he is...The most talented person I’ve ever met!"

"Thanks!" I reply, not keen on Michaels' choice of a "Butter" yellow for the background color. I realize I prefer Pale Lemon. I think to myself. I'll mix up a pale yellow, a lemon, and butter-like yellow and show the different hues on the edge of the table for Michael to choose from.

Michael, considering the shades of yellow, "I love them all ... you choose, the other table is gorgeous as well. It's really pretty... I just want to add some warmer colors and give it the feel of my hand ." He goes about mixing his colors in a blitz of excitement, drops flying everywhere.

"Andrew, can you please mix me up the darkest hunter green possible."

After painting in the lemon yellow background, I stand back and inspect the balance, color scheme, and general effect of the two pieces. I light up my cigarette - knowing I have earned my break. Michael joins me with a lit roach slightly blushing; he confides in me, "I had the most amazing sex last night with - Rudolf Nureyev - in the back of a sex club." I immediately freeze my eyes, smirk, and walk away.

I have no interest in hearing about sexcapades in a work environment; I excuse myself to pick up lunch.

After lunch, with both the tables dry, Michael states, "The Butter Yellow background is absolutely perfect. Lift it." M.K. then has me pin the large hanging frame with 55" silk satin charmeuse. It is an exquisite and luxurious 2-ply silk; we discuss what I'll paint next. Michael asks If I can paint ballerinas.

"Sure," I say, chuckling to myself. “I'll look in your Degas book for inspiration."

"Make each figure about the size of your hand, or a little larger, and place them, Ying Yang, all overuse the silver to outline them like you do so well." We both agree the colour story should be “All pastels for both the male and female ballerina outfits. Indigo, I offer for the ground colour?” M.K., “Better yet.. straight black for the background."

I start drawing out the figures with his best Chinese brush, then I fill in the poofy skirts with pink and yellow pastels, celery, and pale blue. I start to add shades of skin tones for their outstretched, arching, kicking, and jumping limbs and steady faces.

Josephine comes over, giggling uncontrollably, and pointing.“That's my favorite pose, Why don't you draw some of them squatting, or in more obscene, ridiculous poses? You can draw anything! If I were you, I'd take advantage of that - it’s an unbelievable talent!"

After all the dancer’s colours are filled in, all three of us talk about how great it’ll look with a black background. I feel so satisfied that I'm able to create something of so much value and beauty. I can't imagine any other job where I would have so much freedom and encouragement to do so.

Soon, the mixture of beeswax and paraffin is heated and ready to apply as a resist to seal the colours of the figurines. Once covered with two coats, I give the first coat of indigo dye to the background, all the time laughing with Josephine, Ed, and Michael, about how silly and lovely the ballerinas are.

Michael, "Josephine - Quilted winter coats!"

At the front phone desk, I hear Michael announce to everyone he’s about to call his favorite Vogue editor. As she answers, he puts her on speakerphone; and proceeds to boast about his conquest from the previous night. The speaker shuts off fast, as he continues in whispers.

I try to ignore my judgment of vulgarity, about the conversation going on next to me. The buzzer from the front door goes off.

M.K., "Snake!" A close friend of Michael arrives. “Snake” turns out to be a hilarious queen named Kevin. Upon entering he has us all in stitches for almost his entire visit. From his cunning and cutting comments, I realize how he got his nickname. Meanwhile, Mark shows up, everyone admires my work from the day and we break to chum around and take photos of each other.

After hanging up the drying frame of ballerinas, Michael has me pin down another table of silk, this time to paint stripes on. Snake jokes with him and myself about how much of a "slave driver" he is, we all agree.

Painting stripes with M.K. is fun, intimate, and less stressful than the previous ballerinas. Michael asks, "What do you think of Tommy Hilfiger's stripes?"

"Just basic... boring stripes - I think yours are much better, more unique; we're using stimulating colors, better shades, with more diversity of hue, value, and tone."

What is so fun about painting the stripes is that we work in unison, one of us at either side of the table, handing the brush to each other to finish where one of us can not reach. We choose our colors spontaneously, agreeing instantly on everything. We spend the late afternoon finishing up. After five o'clock we're done, and I'm amazed by the vividness of the tables of silk.

M.K., “ Great day! Amazing, Fabulous!" We all agree.

I prepare to head to the dry cleaners, Michael and Mark, are headed to Chelsea Gym. I agreed to meet them this evening, at the loft, around 10 p.m. to go to the Boy Bar. It is Thursday night, “There are drag shows every Thursday," Everyone will be there! You really must see it!" Michael urges me.

That night I take a cab down to the loft, and then over to Boy Bar with Michael and Mark. Upon entering, I notice that Debbie Harry holds court at the front bar, surrounded by a considerable entourage. Next to her is Jean Paul Gaultier. We order our drinks while a whole cache of brazen, young, handsome men begin to surround my boss. Mark and I make a toast together about Michael’s Fabulousness.

When Ru Paul recites her "Chantele" skit on stage, everyone is in hysterics! I get home just after 2:30. Before leaving, M.K. tells me, "It’s okay if you're late for work tomorrow, I’ll be late too." He flashes a big smile.

The next morning I arrive after 9:40 to find Josephine quietly pinning patterns to yards of painted silk. The rest of the loft is empty, except for all the artwork of the previous day. It all does look stunning, the Ballerinas, the unfinished Monet Florals, the vibrant stripes! I Look to see the list of appointments for the day and see that a client - Julia Meade, is scheduled for 11:00. At 2p.m. Michelle (Michael's illustrator) is coming. Michael had told me last night about how talented Michelle was with her fashion illustrations. I do a quick clean-up and prepare his desks for the morning. The phone seems to be ringing, off the hook - I take messages the best I can.

M.K. enters a bit after ten, with several cups of coffee he’s animated with anticipation, for his visit with the “Movie star”. He tells me how "wonderful" Julia is, and that "Probably, she'll bring her daughter, who is also stunning - A Knockout."

I continue to give further coats of indigo dye to the ballerina print until it is entirely jet black when dry. Then I address what needs changing of the Monet-inspired floral. I add some warmer colors and extra flowers until I am pleased with it. I turn the hot plate on for the wax to heat up in preparation to seal it before introducing the dark background color.

Julia and her daughter arrive promptly at 11:00 and are delighted to see all the new work in progress. Julia loves her ultra-glamorous jade green gown that Josephine fits on her body, "So divine Michael...so perfect."

Michael is glowing all morning; all of us are delighted when Edward steps off the elevator at noon - hands full with lunch from 5th Avenue Epicure for everyone. I help arrange it onto plates, as Ed takes control of the crazy, constantly ringing phones.

After lunch, I tend to the packing and shipping needs of the day. The two packages of new designs to Henri Bendel's, Ed insists he'll hand-deliver. I would describe the other shipments as full of "Ungaro-like draped, large flower print dresses going to a boutique in Dallas.”

After Julia and her daughter exit, Ed and I clean up from lunch.

M.K., “Andrew, will you try on dresses from the line when Michelle comes? So she'll have a model to sketch from?”

“No, I’m sweaty, I’ll get the clothes all sweaty.” I flat-out refuse - knowing I had no shower after running so late this morning.”

When Michelle arrives, I am charmed by her low-key, down-to-earth nature, I agree to drape new designs over my frame for her. She starts by laying out all her art supplies, wetting her watercolors, and reviewing the pile of W.W.D. covers that Michael has given her to reference new design ideas from. Michael and Michelle work together as a team on the new line. Her knowledge of what is happening in the New York high fashion scene is as "insider" as it gets. She tells me, "I have just been sketching at Bill Blass's design studio. He’s doing above the knee, puff skirts - big time for fall."

Michael, ”Sketch me some silhouettes of short Kimono tops, over short skirts, and oversized painter smocks over Capri pants, and a series of Y.S.L. like Smoking Suits.” Michell fills her sketched silhouettes in with the exact colours and imagery of our new silk designs. I am amazed by her ease of skill, swiftness of hand, and talent for rendering the fashion croquis. M.K. is enjoying getting into his creative process of designing, letting his flamboyance and imagination run wild. It seems every fifteen minutes he is interrupted by a parade of handsome boys and young men dropping by to say hello. “A typical Friday afternoon at his loft,” I imagine... and exaggerate.

After Michelle finishes and leaves Michael with ten to fifteen new croquis, Michael leaves with the most handsome of his visiting boyfriends for the Chelsea Gym. Exhausted, l lay down for a nap on the bed in the rear end of the loft. As I fall asleep, I tell myself, "Spend the weekend at home coming up with design ideas for M.K.’s Fall Line. Plan for both new prints and fashions, and put them down on paper in full color, to show him on Monday." China, M.K. 's Blue Prussian snuggle's up on top of me, only to dig her claws in when I awake and try to get up.