Sheryl & Carrie Berk
Sourcebooks Jabberwocky
January 5, 2016
add to Goodreads/buy from Amazon/B&N/BooksAMillion/iBooks/!ndigo/Indiebound
Project Runway meets Fame in a trendy new series from the authors of The Cupcake Club
1. Balloons
2. Spaghetti
3. Rainbows
If you were to ask Mickey Williams, these would not be her top points of inspiration for designing a party dress. But in fashion, the client is always right…and Mickey’s client happens to be fashion legend Victoria Vanderweil’s five-year-old granddaughter. Even though it’s the toughest assignment Mickey’s gotten during her time at the Fashion Academy of Brooklyn, she can’t pass up the opportunity to impress a top designer like Victoria.
But when Cordy turns out to be a tiny terror with non-stop demands, the assignment goes from hard to impossible. Not only that, but Victoria wants Mickey to babysit Cordy during NYC Fashion Week! Can Mickey pull off her project and pass, or will it fall apart at the seams?
Excerpt:
Mr. Kaye continued. “Clients can be extremely difficult,” he said. “And part of becoming a successful designer is learning how to interpret what they want and give it to them.”
Mickey gulped. What if the client was the same Wall Street exec that had earned JC his two last year?
Instead, a little girl strolled into the room and stood facing the students. She was dressed in a pink-and-white smocked dress, white ruffled socks, and shiny black Mary Janes.
“Aww, she’s so cute!” Mars cooed. “Hiya, sweetie!”
The child stuck her tongue out and stomped her foot. “I am not cute. Cute is for babies! And don’t call me ‘sweetie’! You’re a dum-dum!”
The class erupted in laughter. “You tell her, kid!” Gabriel said, applauding.
“You’re a dum-dum too!” the tot fired back.
“I’d like you all to meet your client,” Mr. Kaye said, trying to calm everyone down. “This is Miss Cordelia Vanderweil. If we could keep the name-calling to a minimum, Cordy, dear?”
“As in Victoria Vanderweil? The famous fashion designer who practically launched the designer-jean craze in the seventies?” South asked.
“The one and only,” Mr. Kaye replied. “This precious young lady is her granddaughter.”
Cordelia looked over the crowd of faces staring at her. “My grandma isn’t gonna like any of you,” she said. “You’re all mean and icky!”
South flinched. “I’ve been called a lot of things before, but never ‘icky’!”
“You don’t mean that,” Mr. Kaye insisted, taking the child’s hand. “These lovely students are going to design you a pretty dress for your fifth birthday party.” He then turned to face the class. “And your granny is going to be the judge of who wins this challenge, after Cordy has selected her top two.”
“No way!” Mars exclaimed. “Victoria Vanderweil is going to grade our designs? That is amazing!”
“Well, that depends,” Mr. Kaye pointed out, “on how amazing your designs are.”
“My birthday is Valentine’s Day,” Cordy revealed proudly. “My granny says it’s because I’m so lovable.”
Mickey raised her hand. “What are the guidelines for the dress?”
“You will have to ask Miss Cordelia that,” Mr. Kaye replied. “Cordy, they’re all yours.”
“I want a fancy dress,” the child rattled off. “With bows and pearl buttons! Oh, and balloons!”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You want balloons on the dress—or attached to it?”
Cordelia waved her hand dismissively. “I like pink and purple and red and yellow and orange and blue. I like twirly ballerinas. Oh! And the Easter Bunny!”
Mickey scratched her head. This was a tall order to fill! “You mean these are your favorite things you want at your party? Or things you want us to think about when designing your dress?”
“Rainbows! I love rainbows and spaghetti!”
“Do you all think you have enough information?” Mr. Kaye asked the class. “I do believe Cordelia has lunch at the Plaza Hotel with her granny shortly.”
“You better do a good job!” she said, leaving them with a stern warning. “Or else!”
“I second that,” Mr. Kaye said. “You have one week to complete your challenge. Good luck—you’ll need it.”
Fashion Academy
Sheryl Berk & Carrie Berk
About the AuthorsSheryl Berk has written about fashion for more than 20 years, first as a contributor to InStyle magazine, and later as the founding editor in chief of Life & Style Weekly. She has written dozens of books with celebrities including Britney Spears, Jenna Ushkowitz, Whitney Port, and Zendaya—and the #1 New York Times bestseller (turned movie) Soul Surfer with Bethany Hamilton.
Her daughter, Carrie Berk, is a renowned cupcake connoisseur and blogger with over 105,000 followers at the tender age of 12! Carrie is a fountain of fabulous ideas for book series—she came up with Fashion Academy in fifth grade. Carrie learned to sew from her grandma “Gaga” and has outfitted many an American Girl doll in original fashions.
The Berks also write the deliciously popular series The Cupcake Club that was recently made into an Off-Broadway musical, Peace, Love and Cupcakes at Vital Theater in New York City.
website/Facebook/Instagram
Giveaway:
Runs December 18th-January 31st
US & Can only
keep reading to find out about Fashion Academy's beginning in Fashion Academy . . .
Fashion Academy (#1)
Sourcebooks Jabberwocky
July 7, 2015
add to Goodreadsbuy from Amazon/B&N/Books--A-Million/iBooks/Indigo/Indiebound
Fashion-forward MacKenzie “Mickey” Williams is thrilled to be accepted to FAB Middle School (Fashion Academy of Brooklyn), a school that serves as a training ground for the fashion designers of tomorrow. (Their motto: “We are SEW FAB”). But when her daring fashion looks get laughed at by some of the FAB A-listers, Mickey wonders whether standing out is such a great idea. So when friendly classmate JC comes up with a plan to help Mickey fit in, she decides to take the ultimate fashion risk-ditch her personal style for good.
One mega makeover later, pink-haired Mickey Williams mysteriously disappears, and the trendy, blond “Kenzie Williams” shows up on the FAB scene, blending with the other students in a way Mickey never could. But when Mickey starts to lose herself “Kenzie,” she’s not sure that fitting in is worth cutting herself down to size…
Excerpt:
After spending the weekend with her aunt, Mickey concluded that Olive wasn’t that bad—at least not as bad as her mom made her out to be. She was just a bit uptight. It was hard for Mickey to understand how she and her mom could be sisters, much less fraternal twins. They had the same curly strawberry blond hair, though her mom highlighted hers and wore it long and loose and Olive pinned hers back in a tight bun. She recognized her aunt’s eyes as well—they were emerald green, just like her mom’s. Too bad she hid them behind thick tortoise shell glasses. Then there was her style: Olive looked like she had stepped out of a time warp. She wore a ruffled pink blouse, long pearls, and an A-line brown skirt. Maybe she was going for a retro 50s vibe? It was the opposite of her mom’s ripped jeans and vintage rock tee shirts. Maybe there had been some mistake and they were switched at birth? Maybe her Granny Gertrude got confused and accidentally picked up the wrong baby in the park one day?
Olive was also a neat freak who insisted that everything be “spic and span” and in its place.
“Mackenzie, clean up after yourself!” she scolded when Mickey left her sketchbook and colored pencils on the kitchen table. No one called her Mackenzie; her mom only used it when she was mad at her. It was a name she barely recognized or answered to. But as many times as she corrected Aunt Olive, she insisted on calling her by her “proper name.”
“Mom calls me ‘Mickey’ and I call her Jordana sometimes,” she tried to explain.
“I don’t care what you call your mom or she calls you. And you call me Aunt Olive out of respect,” she warned her.
Mickey wrinkled her nose. “Really? Mom says she called you Olliegator when you were little. I think that’s cute.”
Olive pursed her lips. “I’m an adult,” she replied sternly. Aunt Olive was an executive assistant at a big law firm, and she took everything very seriously. “Your mother needs to grow up.”
But that was exactly what Mickey loved about her mom—how she was such a free spirit and never cared what anyone thought or said about her. Mickey tried her hardest to be that way, but sometimes it was hard.
For the first day of FAB, she set her alarm for 6 o'clock6
o’closo she would have time to style her outfit properly. She was proud of how it had all come together. She’d taken a beaten-up denim jacket from a thrift shop and dyed it black before adding crocheted doilies for trim at the collars and cuffs. It said exactly what she wanted it to say about her: “I’m edgy but feminine.” And wasn’t that what fashion was all about? Not just a trend or a style, but a reflection of who you are and how you’re feeling? That was what Mickey loved about designing the most, and what she had written on her FAB application:
“I love how you can speak volumes with a single stitch. Fashion should be fearless! I want to be a designer who always colors outside the lines and thinks outside of the box…”
She was pretty sure Aunt Olive didn’t see it that way. Her idea of taking a fashion risk was wearing a skirt that was hemmed above the knee.
“Does it really go together?” she asked, noticing how Mickey had paired her jacket with a white tank top and bike shorts, both of which were splatter-painted with green and yellow drips.
“It isn’t supposed to go,” Mickey told her. “It’s supposed look creative, which is what FAB is all about. Pushing the envelope!”
She added a pair of green cat’s eye sunglasses.
“Well, it’s colorful,” her aunt sighed. “I’ll give you that. And so is your hair. Good heavens!”
Mickey had created green stripes in her long, wavy blond hair with hair chalk.
“Now for the finishing touch!” she said. “No outfit is complete without accessories!” She slipped her feet into a pair of black high top sneakers, tied the yellow laces, and grabbed her bag.
“What is that?” her aunt asked, scratching her head. She squinted to make out the words on Mickey’s tote.
“It used to say ‘Louis Vuitton’—it’s a bag you keep a really fancy expensive bag in. Which if you ask me, is pretty silly,” Mickey explained.
Olive seemed puzzled. “You mean a dust bag? You made that out of a dust bag?”
Mickey spun the tote around. “Two of them, actually!” The other side read, “PRADA.”
“What? How? Why?” Olive asked.
“Well, it’s perfectly good flannel,” Mickey replied. “And don’t you think it’s kinda funny? A statement about recycling? I used two leather belts for the straps and jazzed it up with some studding at the seams. It cost me about $4 total at the flea market!”
She threw the bag over her shoulder and glanced at the clock. It was 8, and the school bus would be along shortly to pick her up on the corner.
“Your breakfast is ready,” Olive said, handing her a glass of green sludge. This was worse then yesterday’s quinoa and fruit concoction! She missed her mom’s breakfasts of left over Chinese Take Out omelets or cold pizza. But Aunt Olive insisted she start the first day of school with “something healthy and nutritious.”
“Do you have any chocolate milk?” she asked, getting up to check the fridge for something edible.
“This is better for you. It’s fresh kale, celery, cucumber, ginger and a touch of agave. It’s delicious.” She took a big sip of her own glass and licked her lips.
Mickey wrinkled her nose. It didn’t look or smell delicious. “I think I’ll grab something in the cafeteria,” she said, pushing the glass away. “I’m too nervous to eat.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. She was pretty terrified for her first day at FAB. Just then, Mickey’s phone rang.
“All ready to conquer the world?” her mom asked.
“I think so, Jordana,” she replied.
“Ah, I see. We’re trying to sound very mature this morning. Send me a picture of the first day outfit and call me tonight. I want to hear all the deets.”
Mickey smiled. Her mom was trying to sound cool. “I will. Love you.”
As the bus pulled up to the corner of Columbus Avenue, Mickey took a deep breath. This wasn’t just the first day of FAB. It was the first day of the rest of her life. The first day of everything.
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