Apple Washington and the Mystery Mardi Gras Diva

Laura Mae Collins was in the zone. She was experiencing the height of creative pleasure while sitting at her sewing machines and sergers. She was surrounded by yards and yards of vividly colored fabrics in nylon, silk, taffeta, velvet, denim, metallic and linen. The threads sat in neat rows on the shelf above her head in single color and multi color spools. There were yards of tulle, lace, ribbon, sequins, beads, pearls, chains, coins and cording.

Laura Mae's needle torn hands were fast and busy, filling the front of the taffeta bodice with metallic green sequins. This was the last touch she would place on this dress until her customer got here. Laura Mae swiveled her head from the majestic work in progress in her two hands long enough to view the clock on the wall above her head. A little smile came to her time worn, slightly wrinkled light brown face. Her customer would get here any minute.

A little apprehension sent air to her stomach. She'd sewed gowns for the Mardi Gras balls for this lady for the last 10 years. This lady never paid her what she charged: she paid her more! Four times more than what she asked all her customers to pay. While Laura Mae demanded customer satisfaction for her other 100 customers, she especially wanted this lady to be happy. She was so unpredictable, especially this year. Not only did she need Laura Mae to fashion one exquisite Mardi Gras dress designed especially for her. She commissioned her to make two dresses. The one dress Laura was putting the finishing touches on right now was for the customer. The one that hang from the mannequin by the window was the one she'd created for who the lady called the Mystery Mardi Gras Diva.

Laura was really concerned, since she didn't get to meet or even talk to the other lady on the phone. She didn't know the woman's measurements, her height, weight, or anything. To Laura Mae, her customers weren't just a size 10 or a size 18. Every woman has individual and special body features. Laura Mae wanted her dresses not only to look good on a hanger. She wanted them to look good on the body she was sewing it to fit. She wasn't the smartest seamstress in Mobile. She hadn't attended design school. One thing she knew was every woman's shape, curvature and personal style was what demanded how their dress should look. She was not a one size, one style fits all kind of seamstress. She wanted her customers to be happy and look good when they attended the ball.

That's why the lady's request was so nerve racking to Laura Mae. All the woman said was, "She's about your size and height. She's younger than you; she's got an eye for style. I have an idea. If you made the dress to fit you and look good on you, I guarantee she'll like it. Why don't you make your dream dress, Miss Laura Mae? What would you wear if you went to the ball?"

Laura Mae blushed, just like she did when the lady first sat in her parlor and said those words. She grunted, viewing the most beautiful dress she'd ever made or seen that covered the mannequin. "I ain't never been to no Mardi Gras ball. But if I did go I would sho wear you." Her hands trembled slightly. Forbidden visions took over her soul for a minute as some handsome man held the woman who wore that dress in his arms and danced the night away. Her heart began to race, and she laughed, because she was that woman. She thought she was too old to still have fantasies.

The knock on the door broke up her temporary revelry. It was her customer. She could see the candy apple red Ford Excursion out her parlor window. She leaned forward and saw the customer standing at her front door. Not that it was a real concern that Apple Washington had lost any weight since she last talked to her. She was still around 300 pounds. The dress she created for her should fit the curves she liked rather nicely, and de-emphasize the bumps she didn't care for. Laura Mae smiled. The power of a needle and some thread.

The thing about Apple; she didn't seem to mind that she was morbidly obese.

"Bonjour!"

"Beunas dias!"

"Hello!" came Apple's trademark and loud greeting.

Laura Mae opened the door to Apple Aponte' Fabiana Mystique Washington, her customer who paid her four times more than she charged. Apple Washington, the lady who requested her to make two dresses this year. The two of them hugged warmly.

"Miss Laura Mae, it is good to see you. You look so good. Where's he hiding?"

Laura Mae's eyes grew big as she tried to assimilate the question. "Where who hiding?"

"You gots to have a man hiding in here somewhere, make you glow like that." Apple smiled. Her smile was big and true. So were her eyes.

Laura Mae giggled like a little girl. "Ain't no man here. Nobody but me and my sewing. I reckon that's enough."

By now, Apple had settled onto Laura Mae's Victorian couch that she'd bought at a thrift store and re-covered. She rubbed her hands together. "I'm so ready for a fashion show. What's first?"

Laura smiled. Her head was spinning. She was in the zone again. "The dress I designed for you has bright many-colored sequins throughout, with highlights on your beautiful face. I gave you some broad shoulders and a tapering off, corset included. The bottom is finished with pure velvet. Don't want you to get too cold that night."

It was a struggle for Laura Mae to lift the dress from the arm she'd carefully placed it on. It weighed at least 50 pounds. Apple's face lit up partly from the sequins reflecting and partly from her own amazement. For the first time in many years, she was speechless. Laura Mae didn't know how to interpret the shocked look on her face. She began to lower the dress disappointingly.

"You don't like it."

"Are you crazy?" Apple squeaked. "It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen."

Minutes later, Laura Mae had fixed Apple a glass of her classic lemon tea. Apple had snapped out of her temporary daze. She helped Apple put the dress on. It took thirty minutes for Apple Washington to get in it. The dress fit perfectly. The two admired Apple wearing Laura Mae's workmanship in the full length mirror for another 30 minutes.

"Why didn't you bring the other lady to try on her dress?"

Apple let out a little yelp. She gulped down a whole glass of tea. "Tell you what," she rasped, "why don't you try the dress on for me, and then I'll know if it's right for my Mardi Gras Mystery Diva?"

"You know I can't do no mess like that," Laura Mae protested. "I design my work for customers alone. You know I don't play around with what I make."

"Miss Laura Mae, just try on the dress."

"What if she don't like it?"

"I'm still paying you for it. If you made it to fit the specifications I gave you, . . ." her voice trailed off mysteriously, "she'll like it."

Laura Mae eyed Apple suspiciously. "If you wasn't my very best customer, I wouldn't fool with you."

For the next thirty minutes, Apple helped Laura Mae put on the dress.

"Are you trying to tell me you didn't try this dress on, even though I told you to make it with your specifications?" Apple asked as she buttoned each and every cloth hand-covered button that traveled up Laura Mae's slim, curving back.

Laura Mae was beholding herself in the mirror now in a creation that was the most beautiful she'd ever made, the most beautiful she'd ever seen or worn. She turned to see what she looked like from behind.

She didn't even hear Apple's question.

Apple smiled big again and twinkled her eyes. She eyed her seamstress from head to shoe-less toe and nodded. "It's perfect. How much do I owe you?"

"Five-hundred," Laura Mae whispered.

Apple wrote the check for two thousand dollars and shoved it into Laura Mae's sewing bag.

"Miss Laura Mae, I got a confession to make."

Apple's words brought Laura Mae out of her fantasy, for again she was experiencing the heaven of dancing the night away in that dress with a good looking man.

"Chile," she fumed, "get me out of this dress before you confess. I don't need to pispire no more on this dress."

"Sorry, Miss Laura Mae, I can't help you out of the dress."

Laura Mae's eyes literally grew wide in fear. "What kind of trick is you pulling Apple Washington? You better take this dress off me or. . .?"

"Or what," Apple laughed. "you're gonna unbutton all 25 of these buttons traveling up and down your back by yourself? I want to see you do that."

"Apple what is this?"

"This," Apple brushed her hand against the faintly seductive dress that transformed the little old seamstress lady into a member of royalty, "is you, Laura Mae Collins. You are going to let me fix your hair. You are going to let me do your makeup. You are going to let me find you the right shoes and hose to go with that dress. Then, you are going to come with me to the Mardi Gras ball tonight. You are my Mystery Mardi Gras Diva."

"What?" Laura Mae really perspired now. "I done told you I ain't never been to no ball."

"Yes you have been to the ball, Miss Laura. You've been in your fantasy, in your visions." Apple gave Laura a reassuring hug as the two of them admired each other in the mirror. "You are the most talented and creative seamstress I've ever known. You sell your creations way too cheap. Women all over this city take advantage of your goodness and your talent. This is your night to shine, Laura Mae Collins. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

By now, Laura Mae was crying; add teardrops to sweat drops filling her face. She cupped her hands under her chin in order to protect the dress.

Two hours later, Apple Aponte` Fabiana Mystique Washington and Laura Mae Collins entered the Mardi Gras Ball. Laura Mae hadn't been to an event in so long, she had to try to remember how to act. Apple assured her that she would do fine.

True to her sewing room fantasy, she danced the night away with a handsome younger man. She saw many of her clients there, wearing her creations. Many of them literally stopped whatever they were doing to come and hug her and admire her and her dress. A few of her customers turned their noses up at Laura Mae, the most beautiful girl at the Mardi Gras Ball.

On the way to the ball, Apple told Laura Mae that she needed to create her own label, get a trademark for her work, and charge more money. For Laura Mae Collins, these things weren't even possible in her imaginations, let alone in reality, except that Apple said she would help her. Laura Mae had very little education, she knew nothing about business. She just knew she wanted to sew more than anything else, and she wanted her customers to look great. She had no idea if she was making a profit or losing money. Apple suspected she was losing money. The materials she used in her creations cost as much as materials in most wedding dresses.

That night was the most beautiful night of Laura Mae Collins' life that ended too soon, even though day was breaking when she walked out of the ballroom. Now she wouldn't have to dream ever again. She could just remember this night.

Apple Washington is a character created exclusively by this Yahoo! Network Contributor.