The mannequin was bare and ready for me to drape and pin down fabric into what would make me graduate this year at fashion school. Maybe even walk down the runway at the annual fashion show with this year’s best projects.

I’ve already grabbed yards of fabric from the donation bin that seniors gave when they were already done and had extras. Mixed in the pile were 1 dollar yards from the fashion district that I had to swim for to find.

The sewing table was full of fabric and none of them spoke to me like Unice’s pashmina. It was real cashmere and probably cost my tuition here at Miranda’s. No matter how broke in real life I may be my taste’s remain expensive.

Noodles are apart of my diet yet my social media is filled with me liking luxury fashion and oftentimes the most overpriced pieces of art.

Its embarassing to keep wanting for so much when reality gives you so little.

“Don’t fall in love with me, I’m out of your league.” Unice says not even looking up from her phone. Her legs were crossed and her pashmina was wrapped around her neck. It must be very warm.

“I’m in love with your pashmina.” I found myself saying, not denying shamelessly staring.

She gave me an eyebrow raise. “This old thing? I was going to throw it away if it werent for all my other scarfs still in the wash.”

“Or you could give it me.” I suggested, not letting my horror show that she would dare throw good cashmere away.

“Think fast. Pashmina coming your away.”

Suddenly something was thrown in my face.

“Stop staring and get to sewing already, you’re already cramming for finals.” Unice told me. She may be cold and stand offish but there are times she shows that she has a care for other human beings.

**

“Fast, Pashmina.” Unice read the name card out loud staring at my piece on the mannequin. “Very fashionable.”

The all nighters I had to pull and the needles I poked my hands with was all worth it. The cashmere was difficult to work with but my vision came to life with each problem I solved trying to get it to the shape I want.

Thankfully the professors thought so too as I had a spot in the annual fashion show. They even had me be the ending collection which is the biggest honor. You had to save the best for last.

My piece was such a success I managed to get an offer from Made Dame and my look managed to get featured in a magazine highlighting fashion school wins.

I didn’t even know I made a phrase happen.

“Fast, pashmina.” Weenah said to a girl wearing the most exquisite black leather dress that clung to her like water. She smiled and twirled, showing how the clothes were made for her.

“You too fast, pashmina. Love the jacket.” She said, blowing air kisses and walking off.

I smiled to myself knowingly, holding a bag full of my sketches and looking forward to more pieces even better than fast, pashmina.