Authors: Joss Stirling
Rocco and I jogged back to our courtyard. By the time I let us in, Signora Carriera had returned. My heart fell when I saw the piles of fabric she had brought with her. Taking work home was an evil habit and with me upstairs she had started to assume I was a willing pair of hands. Rocco had no such fears: he bounded to his owner with puppyish enthusiasm, leaping around her and licking her fingers. A willowy lady with blonde highlighted hair, the signora was doing an excellent job of disguising the fact that she was in her early sixties. She wore her glasses on a diamanté chain around her neck. They were bumping against her chest now as she shook out a wonderful piece of emerald green velvet.
‘How was your walk?’ she asked. I assumed she was addressing me though she was paying more attention to Rocco.
‘Good, thanks. We saw Contessa Nicoletta going to church. She says she’ll call by soon about her costume order.’
Signora Carriera ran a distracted hand through her hair. ‘Ay-yay-yay, how will we cope?’ Her lips curved in a little smile as she thought of the profits. ‘But cope we will. Would you like to have supper with me? I’m expecting special guests so I’ve cheated, naturally, and brought in a lasagne from the restaurant across the street.’
I rather fancied the idea of having someone other than the cat to talk to. ‘Yes please. Who’s coming?’
‘The director from the film company and his head of costume. They phoned just after you left.’ She snipped off a loose thread on a gold tissue petticoat.
I thought of the last few masks I was still to complete, the dresses with seams only tacked and not properly sewn. ‘But we’re not ready!’
She shrugged in a ‘what can one do?’ gesture. ‘I know, but they want to see what we’ve done so far. They realize we cannot deliver the final pieces until Saturday. Filming starts on Sunday so there is not much time for changes if they don’t like my approach.’
I was already regretting agreeing to attend. If there were multiple alterations, guess who would be asked to do them while my boss dealt with her usual customers?
‘That’s all I have time to do now.’ Signora Carriera put her little scissors away. ‘Why don’t you go and change into one of your dresses—the purple wrap, I think.’ The signora assessed me with her professional look. ‘Yes, that brings out the best in your colouring. Dramatic, like your features.’
I choked on a laugh. ‘I have a best to bring out?’
‘Oh stop that, Crystal!’ she said smartly. ‘I don’t know where you got this idea that you are ugly.’
From the mirror? I thought.
‘It is most ridiculous! I have heard enough of it. You are one of those girls whose faces are arresting, not merely pretty. Hundreds of women can do pretty; few can do stunning.’
My jaw dropped. Then again, a cattle prod could do stunning.
Having begun on this theme, Signora Carriera was on a roll. ‘Look at the top model agencies, they do not go for what the world calls beautiful; they choose faces that you remember and who can wear the clothes rather than let the clothes wear them. That,
bella
, is you.’
Well, wow. Just wow. After a couple of rotten weeks, I suddenly felt a hundred feet tall—in a good way. ‘Thanks. I’ll go get changed then.’
And with the encouraging smell of baking lasagne to spur me on, I took time to dress for dinner. After all, I was going to meet two guests used to rubbing shoulders with the most sophisticated people in the world. I did not want to let Venice or myself down. I peered at my face in the mirror as I applied mascara, trying to see what Signora Carriera had described. Drama? Hmm. I still looked like me, dark brows, funny-coloured eyes, rioting hair, but if I pretended I was beautiful like she said, maybe I’d begin to be the person she saw rather than the one I did? Worth a try. I added a necklace I had made from Murano glass beads—bold colours threaded on silver wire—and a pair of my nonna’s heirloom earrings. There: I was done. I still couldn’t see any beauty when I looked at my reflection, but I could see memorable.
The director, James Murphy, turned out to be a friendly Irishman, if somewhat highly strung at the moment as he had a multimillion dollar movie riding on his shoulders. No giant, I noticed I had a few inches on him when I shook his hand, but he made up for height with width. He wore a grey polar neck under his jacket and jeans—California’s version of the head guy’s suit. The costume designer, Lily George, was surprisingly young for her job, in her late twenties I would guess. She was a funny combination of ethereal looks—flyaway blonde hair, pale skin, size zero—with a raucous voice and earthy laugh. I liked her immediately.
Mr Murphy twirled his
vino santo
aperitif, lounging on Signora Carriera’s ancient sofa. It was impossible to get comfortable on that instrument of torture but I doubted the signora ever had time to sit on it to find that out. ‘If there is a moment before we eat, signora, can we see your costumes? You know the look I am trying to create: the moody night of the Carnival, a time for lovers and assassins to be abroad.’ He sketched his ideas in the air, threatening to douse us all in his drink. ‘I want our hero, who will be dressed in his signature black suit, to be framed by the outlandish jewel-toned costumes of the participants in the revels. They must be everything he is not: out of control, colourful, loud.’
The film was the third in a successful spy thriller series, a modern bitter twist on the Bond character with a leading man who walked more often on the dark side than that of the good. It had made the career of the actor, Steve Hughes, whose fair-haired good looks could both chill and tempt with one smouldering glance at the camera, sending his female admirers into a swoon of longing.
Oh, did I not mention? I’m a big fan.
Signora Carriera nodded and got up. ‘Yes, we have time to show you a few pieces. Crystal will model the costumes for us.’
I put down my Coke. ‘I will?’
Lily George got up from her perch on the window seat. ‘Great. I loved the ones you’ve already delivered. Sorry to ask for a few more so late but James got carried away when he saw what you’d done—made the scene much bigger.’ She gave the director a fondly exasperated look.
‘What,
moi
? Carried away? Surely not.’ James grinned.
‘Show me how to fit them and I’ll then be able to brief my team for dressing the extras on Sunday.’
We processed into the signora’s spare room where she had laid out the costumes. The basic idea behind the fancy dress was an eighteenth century lady’s gown or man’s breeches and jacket, topped by a robe called a domino, mask and hat. It was the mask that really made the costume and these were where the signora’s skill really came into play as she was brilliant at thinking up modern versions of the traditional patterns, using urban themes such as graffiti or technology to twist the old-fashioned into the shockingly new. But first I had to be laced into the gown, which involved a fearful amount of corsetry and petticoat fluffing to get the right silhouette. The dress—a red and white satin embroidered with gold—fitted me perfectly.
Lily made me stand at the far end of the room. ‘Yes, yes, excellent. James wants the extras to cast long shadows across the set—this will work well. They are supposed to tower over Steve, larger than life.’ I was disappointed to learn from Lily that my favourite actor was only five ten. Apparently many leading men were, as the camera preferred them that way. ‘Put the hood up. Even better. Which mask?’
Signora Carriera chose a blood-red one made up of a filigree of overlapped words—Death, Sin, Danger, Passion. They formed a lacy network covering two thirds of my face.
Lily caressed it with a fingertip. ‘Oh, I want one. I could wear it on a bad day at the office. That’d put the fear of God into my girls in the workroom. Come, let’s show James.’
I spent the next half an hour being turned and prodded as they worked through the potential of each costume. I was even asked to wear the male domino and mask just to see the general effect. Everything was approved and the three of them were buoyed along on creative enthusiasm for what could be done with the outfits. Not daring to speak up, I was also caught up in the mood, remembering how much I loved my textile course at school, which had allowed me to conjure shapes and silhouettes with fabric, but nothing on this scale or budget.
Over a fantastic dinner of local scallops followed by the lasagne and green salad, James toasted his host. ‘You’ve exceeded my expectations, signora. You’ve produced everything you sketched for us but added magic. It will make fantastic cinema.’
‘
Grazie tante
. I could not have done it without my assistant.’ She gestured generously to me.
Lily tapped the back of my wrist. ‘Crystal, you must come along on Sunday—be one of the extras. You don’t need to do anything more than you’ve done tonight but you looked fabulous. I’m itching to get my hands on dressing you properly. Don’t you agree, James?’
The director’s BlackBerry buzzed. He glanced down and checked his message. ‘She looked great. Yes, come along, Crystal. You might find it fun. There will be a lot of standing around but that’s the movies. I’ve got to cut this short, I’m afraid. Steve’s just landed his helicopter at his hotel and wants to talk to me—some problem with the press in the rumour department. Thank you so much for the meal, signora: it means a lot to meet real people when you go on location. The film world bubble can get in the way of a genuine response to a place.’
Signora Carriera left the room to show him out. Lily made no move to leave with the director, taking a sip of her wine and sitting back with a fond smile of contentment rather like Barozzi the cat after a good supper.
‘He’s nice,’ I said, topping up my water.
‘Yes, James is a really lovely man,’ Lily twiddled a lock of her short hair in thought,‘—nervous at the moment because so much money is riding on the project but he never takes it out on his team. I really enjoy working for him.’ Her gaze shifted from contemplation to concentrate on the present moment, taking on a wicked glint. ‘Your signora is quite something too.’
I smiled. ‘A hard worker, that’s for sure.’
‘And an artist when it comes to clothes. I could learn a lot from her.’
‘Is that why you’re still here—to pick her brains?’
Lily laughed. ‘Of course. When we needlewomen get together, we can’t pass up the chance to talk the language of dressmaking with someone who really understands. But I’m also interested in you, Crystal. You’re not what I expected to find in Venice.’
I shrugged. ‘I’m only part Italian—a quarter. I went to school in England, which is where my mum and one sister still live. The rest of us are scattered all over.’
‘I wasn’t talking about your nationality. I meant someone with your looks. Have you ever been approached by anyone? You obviously have the height and there is just something about your face that screams to be photographed.’ Thumbs and index fingers together, Lily mimed capturing me in a frame.
‘Oh, um, well, no. You’re only the second person to say that and the other was the signora earlier today. Must be my day for being talent-spotted.’ I chuckled at the irony. ‘Funny because I always thought I looked, well,
odd
compared to other girls.’
‘You do.’
Caught mid-sip, I almost spat out my mouthful of water. I swallowed and managed a wry ‘Thanks.’
‘No, I mean it. You have an unusual face, but the eyes now—what colour would you call them?’
‘Light brown?’
‘Uh-uh.’ She shook her head. ‘They’re really striking—gold flecks, a hint of hazel and green. You’ve got the colouring of a chameleon; you’ll photograph differently depending on the shade you are wearing.’
Our hostess returned and sailed on through to the kitchen. ‘Does anyone have room for ice cream?’
‘Yes, please,’ replied Lily. ‘I was just telling Crystal that she should think about modelling as a career.’
From the kitchen came the sound of the freezer compartment being tugged open. The signora came back bearing a tub of locally made ice cream. ‘I tell the girl she has the looks but does she believe me?’
I helped get out the dessert dishes, lovely antique ones with gold leaf edging. ‘You’re beginning to persuade me, but I always thought my features were too large.’
‘Ah, but that is why they work,’ said Lily. ‘Think of Julia Roberts and Anne Hathaway—mouths the size of aircraft carriers but it didn’t do their careers any harm.’ Lily accepted a large serving of strawberry ice cream while I sketched the outline of my lips self-consciously with a fingertip. Aircraft carrier? ‘I know people in the industry. If you’re interested, get some studio portraits taken and I’ll send them around. In fact, I insist. I’ll get one of the photographers on set to do it free. I have this hunch about you and I want to crow that I discovered you when you are rich and famous.’
The signora gave a huff. ‘
I
discovered her, Lily.’
Now they were fighting over the right to claim responsibility for my non-existent fame.
‘OK, Maria,
we
discovered her.’
The two women smiled at me expectantly.
What could I say? ‘Um, thank you.’
‘James said there was a lot of standing around on set; now we know what to do with the spare time, don’t we?’ Lily dug in her spoon. ‘Excellent ice cream, Maria.’