If the Shoe Fits (Meant To Be #1) by Julie Murphy

I begin to walk, and I do my best to make each step nice and elongated while also swishing my hips, but I also think I might just look like one of those dashboard hula dancers. Keeping my eyes straight ahead for the most part, I glance down and risk a quick smile at Henry, which unfortunately means I see Lucy Mackenzie’s scowl. Well, lady, it was either this or walk the runway naked. Maybe start making clothing in my size and I won’t have to take a pair of scissors to your work.

Henry offers me a wink, and I do my best not to beam and to maintain my coolish model swagger.

When I step backstage, Jenny, Chloe, and Sara Claire give me high fives and thumbs-ups while Stacy takes the runway.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I can barely even remember what I just did. It’s all a blur, like when you zone out at the wheel and immediately wonder how it is that you even got home.

After we’re done, the lights come up, and we’re all led out onstage like cattle, where Lucy Mackenzie is waiting for us. Lucy’s hair is cut into a sharp, long bob that’s so perfect I can practically imagine the painstaking efforts her hairstylist had gone to for it to be so precise. She wears a baggy black linen tunic with matching pants and a chunky neon-yellow necklace. She’s the kind of designer who doesn’t wear the type of clothing she produces, and it’s the kind of disconnect in fashion that I’ve never quite understood. I can see all the ways she could seem cold and unapproachable, and yet, she’s created this empire—albeit crumbling—and that’s something I have endless respect for. Even if, after getting to know Henry better, I can’t help but wonder what kind of expense her success has cost her.

“You’re all such lovely girls,” Lucy says as she eyes us discerningly. “Though I think some of you let the clothes wear you.” She looks directly at Sara Claire, one beautifully shaped eyebrow raised.

Jay nods knowingly, and I’m trying my best not to be just a little bit annoyed. I love the world of fashion, but the idea that it’s this mystical thing only meant for a select few is bullshit. And Lucy Mackenzie—a department-store staple—should know that better than anyone else. Yes, clothes can be art, but they’re also a necessity. So many people in this industry act like clothing is for everyone, but fashion is only for a select few. The truth, though, is that clothing is fashion and fashion should be for everyone because clothing should be for everyone. And clothing for everyone is a first, small step to equality for everyone. Getting opportunities and access is a whole hell of a lot easier when you look the part.

“But I see one of you has taken liberties with my work,” Lucy says. “Step forward—”

I step forward and my stomach bubbles, and I truly hope no one else heard that.

“Cindy,” Henry supplies. “Mother, meet Cindy.”

“Hi, Lu—Mrs. Mackenzie. I’m a big fan of LuMac,” I tell her in a hurry before she can get a word in. “In fact, I’m a Parsons alum too. We have that in common. I just…I was so excited to hear we’d be coming here today, but as you can tell, I’ve got a…fuller figure.” I want to say fat, but I don’t think I have the time to also explain that fat isn’t a four-letter word. “And when I couldn’t find anything on the rack in my size, I decided to…reinterpret your work.”

She steps onto the stage. “That’s a judicious way of saying you had to make do.” She touches the fabric of my top and runs her fingers along the edges of the tie dangling along the front. “Jay, is this the Marlena cover-up from the 2019 resort line?”

“Indeed it is,” Jay says as Henry watches, obviously a little out of his depth.

“And the skirt?” she asks.

“Holiday collection 2018. The Charlotte shift dress,” Jay tells her.

Lucy crosses her arms. “You wear it well, my dear. And I like to see a bit of resourcefulness. The curves…suit you.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly, even though what I really want to say is that I shouldn’t have to be resourceful and that it’s my body, so of course it suits me.

“I didn’t realize this was Project Runway,” Addison mutters from the other side of Jenny.

I step back into line as Lucy talks to a few other girls, and on-brand for Sara Claire, Lucy seems a little unsure as she asks her, “May I?”

Sara Claire nods and Lucy touches her hair. “Bottle or natural?”

“Uh, a little bit of both?” Sara Claire says.

I’m starting to get the feeling that Lucy Mackenzie was not an easy woman to grow up with.

Once Lucy is done with her inquisition, she steps back down and whispers to Jay, who nods in agreement.

“Ladies”—Jay nods—“you all did a fantastic job here today, but here at LuMac, we always have a soft spot for rule breakers, so the winner of today’s runway challenge is Cindy!”

I straighten at the sound of my name as my hand flies up to my chest. “What? Me?” I won something! I’ve never even won an Instagram contest, and now I’ve won a Before Midnight challenge. I clap giddily while trying not to gloat.

A few of the other women pat me on the back, and sitting beside Lucy, Henry smiles widely as he tilts his chin down to congratulate me. Good job, he mouths.

I do a little curtsy in response. (Key word: little. This pencil skirt isn’t budging.) In this moment it feels so silly to be here with all these ridiculous games and rules when just last night we stood in the gift shop like two completely normal adults who weren’t pseudo dating via a reality television competition.