North of Forty Novel & Excerpt

Cecelia Carter, Sasha Simms and Nadine Peterson are three north of forty women who attained success in the bridal business and jewelry design lives through hard work, making the right connections and maintaining their personal lives with the men they love,

When they’re approached by a production company and network for a reality series about their successful lives, Cecelia owner of Lia Bridals has her reservations while Sasha, marketing VP for Lia Bridals and jewelry designer Nadine want to seize the opportunity. In spite of what she’d seen of reality shows, Cecelia signs on. The show, North of Forty wants to showcase sexy, successful lives over 40 the cameras prove to be scalpel deep and reveals more about their lives than they signed up for.

Although it’s said with age comes wisdom when reality television the cost is beyond money when personal situations aren’t on the cutting room floor but out for everyone to see. North of Forty is how these smart women figure out how to survive the spotlight of reality television and everything that comes with it.  

Excerpt from North of Forty http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H8JXUQ2

The very first time, six year-old Cecelia Carter went to New York City, the pretty plump little girl was in awe. She was fascinated by the garment district. Men moved with purpose as they wheeled racks of clothes in all directions on the sidewalks of fashion central. Most kids wouldn’t paid attention but Cecelia’s love for fashion came naturally. Her grandmothers, great grandmother and aunts were such talented seamstresses Cecelia preferred McCall’s pattern books to Highlight’s for Children. Fabric store trips were the equivalent of a kid loose in a candy or toy store. Instead of the latest dolls, chocolates and games, Cecelia got lost in notions and textiles. It came as no surprise when she skipped Seventeen and Tiger Beat in favor of Vogue, Essence, Glamour, Harper’s Bazaar, Women’s Wear Daily and Brides. She enjoyed the genesis of a designer’s idea on a sketch pad ultimately landing in the windows of her favorite department stores and on the pages of her favorite fashion magazine.

  When her friends and classmates received cars for their sweet sixteenth birthdays, Cecelia’s parents bought her a brand new Singer sewing machine to sit side by side with her great grandmother’s classic Singer. They also bought her a run around car to drive to the fabric stores whenever she wanted. It was a loving act but one of self-preservation, it allowed them to stay home or do whatever when they didn’t have the energy to drive her to the store whenever she was bitten by the fashion bug, which was quite often.

  With essentially several sets of wheels, Cecelia designed and sewed with a fervor most girls her age reserved for makeup, hair, boys and the latest teen heartthrobs. Nonetheless, Cecelia was focused on her career choice; she intended to be the next big fashion designer.  

 Considering the time she grew up, it was quite a goal for a girl who was 5’9, size 16 with a 38 DDD bust line. No one used descriptive terms like curvy, voluptuous, full figured or plus size. You were either a fat or big girl no one sugar coated anything.

Luckily Cecelia was built Ford tough inside and out. She sliced, diced or julienned anyone who dared ridicule her size. Her body was her God given vessel therefore you didn’t mess with Miss Cecelia’s yo-yo unless you wanted her to be pureed in an instant. This quality continued to serve her well once she was accepted into design school. Cecelia could cut a bitch down to size as easily as sheers through fabric and she made that clear on her first day in fashion design class.

To measure their skill level, the instructor assigned them with the task of pattern making. An excited Cecelia quickly went to work and pulled her medical exam paper, weights, ruler and pencil from her shoulder pack. She laid the pattern face up, weighted it, traced it with her ruler then labeled each pattern piece with seam allowances.

An obvious know it all young gun nearby talked shit about Cecelia’s old lady mu-mu pattern. Cecelia ignored him. Less than ten minutes later, he was awash with expletives in the midst of a deep designer crisis. Tired of the noise, Cecelia walked over.

“Where are the weights to anchor the pattern to the table?”

“That’s old school shit.”

“This is arts and crafts from grammar school.”  She pointed to his pattern. “That’s shit. Your cutting is sloppy and inaccurate and I guarantee you the pattern you wind up with is going to be at least two sizes larger than you intended. Personally, I like making larger patterns it gives me room to size up or down easily. However, you strike me as the type of designer who wants to dress the rich, famous and thin. At the rate you’re going you’re not going to get that accomplished. God’s Speed. Good luck.” She walked away.

“Aren’t you going to help me?”

“No. Trial and error buddy. If you want help ask the instructor. I’m a student like you. I have work to do as well.”

Cecelia finished ahead of everyone else. She wasn’t there to be Miss Congeniality. Besides, she knew anyone there was capable of stabbing her in the back with cutting shears. She kept an eye over her shoulder all through design school.

After graduating with honors, Cecelia worked for other designers and soon realized the real business of fashion was a far cry from the fabulousity displayed on the cover of Vogue and the sleekness of New York fashion week runways. Behind the glitz of September when the fashion elite, celebrities and media converge there were hissy fits, makeup artists clashes, last minute hair style changes, model tantrums, designer tantrums, uneven seams, misplaced darts, sewing machine issues, hand sewn hems 30 seconds before the cat walk and the more than occasional t minus 15 seconds to send a naked model down the runway. Real fashion wasn’t for the faint of heart.

As many starry eyed designers before her, Cecelia wanted to go it alone in fashion. She didn’t want to work for other designers forever. After work, her living room doubled as a design studio and business launch pad. She had the talent. All she needed was the nerve to leave the security of a steady paycheck. When that day arrived Cecelia invested in herself and launched Lia Bridals. Through hard work and good timing her bridal company’s stocks rose as she designed gowns for socialites to A, B and D List celebrities to excited brides on Main Street of any town USA.  Cecelia pushed the envelope with plus size gowns, she made plus size samples. After all, she was a big girl. Curvy brides weren’t afterthoughts at Lia Bridals.

The fashion grapevine thought her fashion gamble was noble but unsustainable. No one designed for plus sizes as a matter of course. Simply put it increased production costs across the board. Curvy brides could have their dream gown but most designers required they be special custom orders. Naturally the odds were against Cecelia with an average of eighteen months before the company folded. She ignored the talk, pressed forward with her vision and happily served up crow when Lia turned a substantial profit in year one with profits and visibility that continued to rise every year.  

Though satisfied by her success, Cecelia never rested on her laurels, she used the city as a veritable, movable, fashionable feast to ignite her creativity. New York tapped into the excitement she felt as a six-year-old and the usual traffic noise faded once she took out HP sketch pad.

Cecelia’s groove was interrupted by the sound of her IPhone. It was her fiancé, Roy. She grabbed her stylus pen to answer. “Hello?”

            “Hi baby. Are you on your way?”

“Yes. Naturally, I’m stuck in traffic.”

“Par for the course,” He laughed.

“True.” She watched a car cut them off. “What the fuck? I love how these jackasses make their own lanes.” She huffed.

“Are you driving?”

“No. I’m a hostile driver and I’m a hostile back seat driver.”  

“Do me a favor.  Let the driver worry about traffic.” He paused. ”So how did it go today?”

“We’re moving ahead.”

“You don’t have to sound so excited.” He said facetiously.

“I still have reservations but I signed on. She looked out at the sea of brake lights all around the car. “I’ll fill you in whenever this traffic gets moving. God only knows when that’s going to happen.”

“Don’t worry. It’s an easy night. I ordered 2 large pizzas and a personal pizza for you.”

“You are such a doll. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused. “Are you still using your stylus pen?”

While artistically inclined, Cecelia was a textbook tech-not when it came to phones.

 “Listen, you finally got me to use this flipping thing. I liked my old cell phone.”

“Honey it belonged in the Smithsonian.”

 “That might be true but it was so much easier to handle. I had to get this stylus pen because I began to wonder if I had opposable thumbs. The touch screen made me feel like I just wandered out of a glacier.”

Roy laughed. “Now you can text, check emails, keep up with Twitter and Facebook from the palm of your hand. I don’t remember how I survived without it.”

“As long as it rings, I’m happy.”

“You are too funny babe. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh, my office is on the other line. I’d better take it. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Okay.” Cecelia sat back and looked around the spacious limousine with its bar. Premium liquors to make your decision go down easier, she nodded.  Mary Poppins used a teaspoon of sugar, they use Absolut. At my age it’s all the same. However if this goes south there isn’t enough sugar or liquor in the world to make it better. I hope haven’t sent my life to hell in a hand basket.