It had taken her eighteen months to design and sew them. But before she panicked—let’s not assume the worst—she called her mom. It went straight to voicemail. She shot off a text.
Hailey: Did you take my robes?
She waited, but the message went unread.
Oh, my God. This isn’t happening.
To reach her goal of owning a fashion line, Hailey had two jobs. She could barely make ends meet with her salary as a designer for Abbott’s of London, so she worked weekends in a high-end designer’s boutique in SoHo. Not only did she need the money, but she got to learn the retail end of the business.
As soon as she saved up two—well, maybe three—years of living expenses, she’d launch her line. In the meantime, she’d spent every free moment since graduating from the Fashion Institute sketching and sewing all kinds of sexy lingerie, giving herself time to find her own voice. She’d wanted to find something that distinguished her from all the others in her field.
And then, about two years ago, one of her favorite fabric shops began stocking materials made from sustainable products. She’d fallen wildly in love with one made from bamboo and modal because it felt like wearing liquid silk. She’d known immediately what textiles and colors would work with it. The result was feminine robes and sleep sets that looked luxurious, bohemian, and sexy all at once.
Just as she went to check her phone again, she found a note taped to the wall.
Surprise, baby! I’m here. And I’ve got the most amazing news for you! Come to this address and find out what it is!
Dammit, Mom.What have you done now?
Stuffing the attorney’s letter into the pocket of her parka, she headed out the door.
Standing on the sidewalk, Hailey took in the unlighted façade.
What the hell’s going on?
Hailey: I’m outside a place called Strike a Pose. It looks closed.
This is ridiculous. All she wanted was to eat dinner, take a hot bath, and work on her robes while watching a holiday baking competition on television. God, it was cold out here.
Hailey: I think I’m at the wrong place. I’m going home.
Mom: No, no. This is it. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right out!
Oh, now she responds.
Hailey: Do you have my robes????
Normally, she loved when her mom visited. They were both fashion designers, so they talked shop, took long walks around the city and discovered new restaurants and interesting boutiques, and had a fun but quiet holiday. They knew each other so well that it was always easy.
But there’d always been a mutual respect for each other’s work. Her mom knew better than to touch her robes.Imagine if I took one of her costumes?She’d pitch a fit.And rightfully so.
Just then, the door burst open, and her mom emerged, eyes bright with happiness, arms outstretched. She pulled Hailey into a hug right there on the busy, bustling streets of Manhattan’s Lower East Side. “It’s so good to see you.” Holding her close, her mom rocked her from side to side.
She couldn’t help but sink into her embrace. As frustrated as she got with her mom’s unorthodox approach to life, she still loved her, and it had been far too long since they’d seen each other.
But right now, she needed answers. Hailey pulled back. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”
“I’ll show you. Come in. Let me introduce you to my new friends.” Taking her hand, her mom slipped into the building. It smelled of new carpet and fresh paint.
In the dim lighting, Hailey could see a stage, a bar, and loads of café tables. “This is a club?”
“Yes. Burlesque, and it’s opening in January.” She pulled Hailey close, her smile stretched wide. “And they’ve hired me to make the costumes. It’s a full-time job.”
Well, that’s a first.
“Naomi,” someone shouted. “Introduce us.”
“You’re going to flip out when you see my surprise.” Her mom led her to a table surrounded by gorgeous, vibrant women. “Everyone, meet my daughter, Hailey. Hailey, this is the cast, the owners, the bartenders, and the servers of Strike a Pose.”