Chapter 1: Part 1

 A modéliste in the French fashion industry is basically a pattern-maker, and their mission is to create an actual body-size construction based on the designer’s sketch.

 

The independent designers in general have their own modélistes with whom they work as an in-house individual or a third-party outsourcing.

 

In those days in Paris, the individual labels often had two types of modélistes; one (main modéliste) to create an initial construction, and another (assistant) to copy and modify the senior’s work.

 

 

One afternoon in Paris, Jindo was on his way to a “rendezvous (job interview)” for assistant modéliste, which was organised in less than an hour from the application submission. He was excited for the company location in the upper Marais, since the area was renowned as cool, trendy and arty.

 

Jindo had some previous work experience, but it was his first time to engage in the French field. He had quite a confident attitude, and this was from his successful completion of the further training at the local institute. On his own, he labelled himself with such keywords as “hardworking”, “skilfully competent”, “attentive for details”, and “polite with a sense of humour”.

 

Apart from his native Korean, he also believed in his linguistic capabilities by possessing an English accent from London, a friendly lilt of Italian, and a little bit of knowledge in Parisian-French. Though not fluent in the local language, he was not intimidated at all as English was a common language in the sector.

 

On this basis, he self-projected him as a decent candidate, supposing this might be why he had received the immediate response that morning.

 

 

 

         Having followed the Google map, Jindo arrived at the destination. Before ringing, he phoned the office to make sure. No one answered, so he just rang the bell. No one was still answering, then he made another call. Again, there was no answer. He looked at the time, and realised it was actually ten minutes early. He thought people might be on their break, so decided to wait. Around five minutes later, a tall guy in a feather-decorated fedora came, about to get in. He asked what Jindo was looking for.

 

Filled in by Jindo, he wondered why no one had opened the door. Anyhow, the guy pressed the door code, then let Jindo in with him. Getting in, Jindo immediately found the inside quite sealed. It was because there looked to be many doors but all closed, no window, and the walls were all painted in matt-black with poor lighting. Even so, it seemed to be in the process of remodelling as the surroundings were quite messy with objects. Then, the fedora guy made a shout towards upstairs, calling Gabrielle, and disappeared through a door on the corner.

 

A few minutes later, another door, seemingly from upstairs, opened, and a super-tired looking girl in multi-coloured hair greeted Jindo.

 

“Hellyo...”

 

She sounded like having just woken up from an hour nap after days of non-sleep. She then walked straight into another door without any eye contact, and it looked like her office. Since she did not say anything further in that zombiestic welcoming, Jindo was slightly confused at first, but a few seconds later, he just followed her to the office.

 

 

 

At first sight, Gabrielle looked younger than Jindo, and even from the back, she appeared to be fairly pitiful, with the dishevelled hair, sagging shoulders, black dusty leggings and T-shirt, quite badly customised flip-flops with holed-socks. Jindo’s instinct alerted him to be minimalistic in talking, and it might be because he did not want to bother the tired potential employer for any unnecessary energy consumption. He waited for her settlement, then they finally engaged in eye-contact. Jindo gestured to point out a chair on the corner, signalling if he should take and sit.

 

“Oh... Yes, please...”

 

Gabrielle seemed to suddenly realise the situation, then smiled at Jindo like a quiet apology. When her facial muscles were lifted to smile though, it was inevitable for Jindo to witness a bunch of her nose-hairs coming out. Apart from the recognisably-tired dark circles under her eyes, the unexpected emergence of the sharply-pointed black hairs in her white face was quite easy to notice. With no intention, Jindo was staring at them for a few seconds, then quickly moved his eyes away, pretending he never saw a thing. Sitting down with an innocent smile, Jindo was now facing Gabrielle and the interview was about to begin.

 

For Jindo, nothing was too bad so far, because her look apparently indicated that she had been too busy to look after herself. Particularly, the little nose-hair issue might just mean that Gabrielle should be a grafter in the dusty field of atelier, not one of those, just sitting down in a cushy office, being a finger-pointing director.

 

 

 

Just like an ordinary interview process, Jindo introduced himself and Gabrielle browsed his portfolio and prototypes whilst listening. Finishing the little presentation from Jindo, a Q&A session began. For being in the similar generation, they seemed to communicate well and the conversation became quite casual and friendly in minutes. Even so, Jindo still kept himself polite. The positive vibe was that Gabrielle seemed to be impressed with Jindo’s prototypes, and also intrigued with his English.

 

“By the way, you have a British accent.”

 

“Thanks very much. As you saw in my CV, I was in England before, and learnt English there. That’s why maybe… Having said that, I don’t think I’ve got the accent… I appreciate it though, because it’s a big compliment for me...”

 

Jindo seemed to reply humbly, but in fact, he had deliberately made an effort for his accent. This was probably because he wanted to imply himself as an England-educated individual who had not just stayed in the country but experienced and understood the local culture. Indeed, after that moment, he put more effort into his dialect. Sadly, he was unaware that he did not sound natural.

 

“So… you don’t speak no English before England?”

 

Gabrielle’s English was certainly not impressive as there were basic errors with the grammar and overall intonation. In fact, Jindo had noticed by then, that she tended to check his facial reaction at every end of her English speech. Since Jindo had an experience in learning local languages in different countries, he understood a certain tendency of people that, when someone was not fully confident in their foreign linguistic skills, they would habitually do the ongoing-check for the listener’s reaction, to see if they were being understood. Therefore, Jindo found Gabrielle cute in a way, feeling like he was in some kind of mature position at that moment. He then became more confident to speak up.

 

 

 

“No, not really Gabrielle. Well… I learnt English when I was at school, but never had a chance to properly speak. So... technically, when I got to England, it was like starting from scratch… I’m still learning the language though...”

 

Jindo was trying to build up his image as a constant learner who was already competent enough, and Gabrielle seemed to like his attitude. Meanwhile, she looked a little intimidated somehow. It might be because Jindo had sounded humble, but seemed to be uncomfortably overwhelming to Gabrielle. Though attempting to be modest, his unnecessarily loud voice with an unflinching gaze might have been condescending to Gabrielle.

 

“Ah… okay... I think... your English is... very good.”

 

Gabrielle complimented, but could not look at Jindo’s face properly.

 

“Thanks very much.”

 

Jindo replied like he often received that sort of compliment, then Gabrielle changed the topic.

 

“These prototypes… You did everything by yourself?”

 

“Yes... eh… is that… okay?”

 

Jindo made a facial expression as if he did not understand why Gabrielle was asking that question. In fact, he had a likely assumption that the question was asked to validate the quality. This was because, in those days, Jindo believed his work as being at quite a fine level, that normally would not be expected from somebody applying for assistant modéliste.

 

“Because... this is... good quality, and I think… There are not many people in Paris who can make this quality…”

 

“Thank you, Gabrielle. But... I feel a bit guilty just to take the compliment... I think I need to say this... Those pieces… I have redone it a lot of times… So... it’s not like… if I make any piece, it will be that quality right away…”

 

“Ah…”

 

“Having said that… I don’t mind reworking as long as it makes the quality better... I just do my best…”

 

He continued.

 

“By the way, I have actually come from a small, family boutique background in Korea. My mother is a designer, my father is a modéliste, the uncles and aunts do the sewing and other productional work. So… it’s not like I am naturally talented to make a quality garment though not having a long history in fashion… It would be more like I was already familiar and comfortable with the fashion-making atmosphere… so for example… a long-hours of work or any type of hard work in the atelier would not pressure me that much…”

 

“Ah… that’s great.”

 

Gabrielle seemed to be getting more interested in Jindo, asking a follow-up question to make sure of some practical query of hers.

 

“Okay then, if I give you a sketch now, just a piece of sketch… you know how to make everything by yourself?”

 

“… One question please… Are we talking about a designer’s original sketch or an industrial technical drawing with measurement information?”

Jindo was checking for the precise context as he did not want to jump into the game without knowing the rules.

 

In fashion, speaking of a sketch, there are generally two types; one by a designer’s original touch like those of Karl Lagerfeld, and another that is an outlined version of garment shape, called “flat drawing". From a modélisme perspective, the remarkable issue will be that an original sketch requires an interpretation, and a technical drawing needs an analysis.

 

 

 

“Of course, an original sketch!”

 

Gabrielle quickly replied as if she had discovered a weak link of Jindo. She was smiling, but it looked quite teasing to Jindo.

 

“Gabrielle, you also mean to sew the entire piece… all by myself?”

 

“YES!! Construction, pattern-drafting, cutting-fabric, sewing, ironing… everything!”

 

It seemed that Gabrielle was checking his confidence, not the competence. Anyhow, Jindo was not intimidated by the interrogation, and calmly took a couple of seconds to think, then responded.

 

“In the beginning, it may take a bit of time to interpret your sketch... as it’s the first time that I see your original touch… but yes... all in all, yes, I think I can.”

 

In fact, he passed the hesitating moment to consider any better answer for later. It was because he thought that not many modéliste would give a positive answer to that question.

 

The majority of modélistes may not be happy to do a sewing job because it will not be their main role nor forte.

 

 

 

“Can I test you?”

 

Gabrielle was doubting Jindo while still smiling.

 

“Yes, certainly… Actually, I have my tools with me. Maybe it is not going to be my finest performance today but... I am sure I can show you something. We do it now?”

 

Jindo faced Gabrielle with a ready-set attitude, and she seemed to be embarrassed by his confidence.

 

Indeed, it would be a very rare case that a modéliste brings their tools in a job interview. But if somebody did, it would certainly not be a minus point.

 

“No, no, no… it’s okay...”

 

Gabrielle turned back to look at Jindo’s portfolio, peeking at his face, back and forth. Then, Jindo wondered why she was checking him on the capability of the multi tasks. It was because the applied position was “Assistant modéliste”, whose task was basically to support the main (senior) modéliste. He asked a question to be clear.

 

“Sorry, Gabrielle. I am a bit confused... Do you not have your main modéliste? I thought the job position was for assistant modéliste.”

 

“Yes, I have... But she went back to her country.”

 

“Her country… She is not French?”

 

“She is Japanese.”

 

“Japanese?”

 

Jindo was glad to hear it because he personally had a respect for Japanese modélistes. But, at that moment, Jindo wondered if the Japanese would come back. It was because Gabrielle’s phrase was mixed with the present and past tense.

 

“So, is she coming back?”

 

“No, she’s not coming back.”

 

“…”

 

Being disappointed from the clarification, Jindo was then confused to another extent. The issue was that there was no main modéliste, but Gabrielle was looking for an assistant one. Meanwhile, since Gabrielle had asked him for his competence on various tasks, he wondered if she was considering him to be the main modéliste. Assuming so, Jindo wanted to check the standard of the previous professional.

 

 

 

“How was the Japanese modéliste though? They are very detailed and precise, aren't they?”

 

“She was very good. We’re like friends. We worked together, had fun together after work...”

 

“... That’s… great.”

 

Gabrielle’s reply was not exactly what Jindo wanted as he had expected something about the professional attributes of the person, then Gabrielle continued.

You are reading story My girlfriend was a CHANEL designer, and I was an idiot. at novel35.com

 

“I like working with Asians. They’re hard workers and I’m also like that…”

 

It seemed like Gabrielle was taking the subject to her ethnic preferences, and Jindo found it to be polite by not rectifying the main point yet. He just asked a question to casually prolong the conversation.

 

“Great… By the way, do French people not work hard?”

 

“No-oh, never!”

 

“...”

 

Gabrielle clearly seemed not to prefer the local employees, but Jindo tried to make his positive view towards the French.

 

“Well… I think they do. I know there’s a stereotype that French people are lazy. But in my opinion... it’s just that they know how to enjoy their break. It doesn’t mean they’re not hard workers...”

 

“NOOO!! French people never work hard. They’re always lazy. I don’t like working with them, ever…”

 

It seemed like Jindo’s words had touched a certain sensitive area of Gabrielle as she suddenly became high-tensed. Jindo found it embarrassing since her opinion level was slightly extreme with a loud voice and deep frowns on her forehead. He took a moment, wondering if he had spoken out of turn.

 

 

 

Gabrielle was then staring at Jindo with an unpleasant silence, and stayed for a while. Jindo was being more embarrassed with her unexpected spikiness, and did not know how to respond. At that moment, the high-tensed French director moved her face closer, enlarging her eyes, and firmly said once again.

 

“I LIKE ASIANS.”

 

As an Asian, this preference of the potential employer was supposed to sound good, but Jindo was being careful not to make any reaction yet. Instead, he asked another question.

 

“Have you worked with many Asians?”

 

“Yes, many, many... I also have many Ai-sian friends.”

 

“... Great...”

 

Jindo replied with a smile, but did not make any further comment. It was probably because his instinct alerted something not positive about Gabrielle somehow.

 

Having experienced diverse people in Europe for more than a decade, Jindo believed he developed an intuition to sense a certain type of people. Those were who would seem open to other ethnicities, but expose their actual stereotypical ideologies in an unguarded moment.

 

 

 

Anyhow, Jindo just moved on.

 

“It’s great you have many Asian friends. By the way, Gabrielle… just to let you know... not every Asian is as hard-working as you think.”

 

“NOOO!! ASIANS ARE HARD-WORKERS.”

 

Again, Gabrielle was so firm with her declaration, and this time, she even raised up her pitch like a cat hissing. Jindo was further embarrassed as he had just meant to mitigate the “too positive” image of Asians, but the French director seemed to have her strong belief on the issue.

 

There was another weird moment of silence for a while, then Jindo started to feel uncomfortable. He tried to pass by the silly topic since he knew he was facing a potential employer, not a friend.

 

“Ah, okay.”

 

Jindo then transited the moment to bring back the previous context of the Japanese modéliste. He was curious about her termination.

 

“By the way, can I ask you why the Japanese modéliste has left?”

 

_­Gabrielle started off with her head shaking.

 

“She messed up her life. Her mother was fucking dead, the family was crazy, fighting with each other, and she was so depressed every day…”

 

“Ah…”

 

“Anyway, she came to work late every day, always having that depressed face, making a lot of mistakes…”

 

“…”

 

“She was so weak and stupid… I didn’t like her anyway.”

 

Jindo was surprised by her tone as it was completely different from how she initially depicted her lovely, previous modéliste who was like her best friend.

 

 

 

Even then, Jindo tried not to take it so seriously as there seemed to be other issues with her decision as a company owner.

 

“Okay… so you had to dismiss her…”

 

“Nooo. She just didn’t come to work at one point.”

 

“Really? That’s… not quite… professional.”

 

“She left without saying anything and… I was really sad because we took care of her like a family… It actually happened during Paris Fashion Week when we’re busy like crazy…”

 

“Ah…”

 

“Anyway… I was left alone… again…”

 

Gabrielle suddenly became sad, and Jindo made a little sigh, looking at the side floor, pretending to share her feelings. Though her last word, “again”, raised a little curiosity in his head, he thought that it should not be a concern at that moment.

 

In fact, Jindo’s concern of the moment was rather about the Japanese modéliste. It was because, regardless of how the case was described by Gabrielle, Jindo knew how it would have felt to lose a close member of the family, particularly when being an expat. Since it was not a long time ago from the loss of his grandmother by then, he felt sympathy for the Japanese.

 

Therefore, within the faux-sharing motion for Gabrielle, Jindo was in fact having his moment. Gabrielle was moody, looking at her desk floor for quite a while. Meanwhile, she was peeking at Jindo’s face. It seemed like she was checking if he was following her. After a moment of further grieving, she slowly switched the topic.

 

 

 

“Anyway, it is not a good story. Let’s talk about work.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So, you know how to make menswear and womenswear, both?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jindo came straight back with a ready-set vibe, as if he was so professional when it came to work.

 

“That’s good!!”

 

Gabrielle was pleased, then it was Jindo who suddenly talked further by himself.

 

“But… to be honest Gabrielle, I don't see a big difference between the two sectors.”

 

Jindo seemed to have something to say about it, then Gabrielle asked.

 

“Why?”

 

“It is because... I think modélisme is ultimately about garment construction with sewing instructions... In my opinion, whether it’s mens or womenswear, there’re a lot of crossover elements… As far as I know, Stella McCartney for example, when she was younger, she was trained at a men's tailor boutique in Savile Row, London, and now she uses the menswear tailoring techniques for her womenswear jacket… I am sure there are many other designers mixing methods in a similar manner… I think, these days in particular, womenswear is becoming like menswear and the same for the other way round…”

 

Jindo expressed his opinions, and Gabrielle seemed to follow him. Then again, Jindo did not forget to package himself as a humble individual.

 

“Well… surely though… my knowledge is not deep enough yet, so… I’m probably generalising the concepts with just a few examples... The main point I would like to say… is that I don’t like the idea of distinguishing between two ideologies… like this is for mens and that is for womens… I just want to open all the possibilities for creation… So… for me… I may say… I know how to make a piece of garment, when there are fabrics, body measurements and designs.”

 

Gabrielle was quiet and nodding, then Jindo quickly bounced a question to let her talk. This was probably because he was embarrassed by himself for talking too much on something that was not even asked.

 

 

 

“Do you do menswear though? I thought you specialise in womenswear.”

 

“No, I don’t do menswear yet, but many guys like my collection, so I want to do my mens one day... Actually, some guys already wear my pieces as they are oversized.”

 

Gabrielle tried to say it proudly, but looked unconfident somehow. Then again, Jindo did not catch the moment as he was too focused on thinking about how to show off his knowledge and opinions.

 

“That’s great, Gabrielle. I think the menswear industry will be bigger, and if we look at the young male celebrities these days, the sector has already expanded and become more experimental… Even CHANEL may start their mens in the near future...”

 

Jindo passionately talked about his vision for the future menswear, and Gabrielle seemed to be getting unhappy somehow. It was probably because Jindo again was trying to dominate the conversation with his loud voice, talking about something not asked. Gabrielle then said something quietly, and it was like she did not want to be just a spectator in the situation.

 

“Well, I’m not sure if CHANEL will do mens…”

 

“... Can I ask why you think so? You know many men celebrities already enjoy their CHANEL wear like Pharrell Williams…”

 

“...”

 

Jindo was to express his thoughts loudly, and Gabrielle seemed to become sulky and grumpy. Jindo continued.

 

“Who knows if they already have their men’s department in process…”

 

“They don’t…”

 

Gabrielle still seemed intimidated, saying it indifferently, but this time, Jindo caught the moment as her nuance was a little strange. It was because she somehow said it as if she already knew something about the issue.

 

“... ah, they don’t? Can I ask how you know that?” 

 

“Because I was at CHANEL…”

 

“Pardon?”

 

Gabrielle’s unexpected confession froze Jindo.

 

You can find story with these keywords: My girlfriend was a CHANEL designer, and I was an idiot., Read My girlfriend was a CHANEL designer, and I was an idiot., My girlfriend was a CHANEL designer, and I was an idiot. novel, My girlfriend was a CHANEL designer, and I was an idiot. book, My girlfriend was a CHANEL designer, and I was an idiot. story, My girlfriend was a CHANEL designer, and I was an idiot. full, My girlfriend was a CHANEL designer, and I was an idiot. Latest Chapter