but soon they may be walking down the red carpet at the Oscars。？
Vanessa adjusted the focus to capture the faint line drawings more clearly。
？And so we see now even more clearly how the designer Bailey Winter？s creative process works。
It begins with some…thing as simple as the color of plumage。 After some pencil sketches and a few
martinis 。 。 。？ She trailed off； because really； she had no idea how to describe dresses or fashion or
if chiffon was really the name of a fabric。 Maybe it was a dessert？ ？The only thing I cannot show
you is that which exists only inside the designer？s mind。 That？s the true creative process。？Or the
true drunken process。 She turned the camera on the army of not…quite…empty wineglasses。
？Oh。 My。 God。？
Vanessa whirled around； instinctively hiding the camera behind her back as she did。
Oops。
？Whatare you doing in here？？ Bailey slammed the glass door behind him to keep any of his
precious birds from escaping into the garden。？Vanessa；Vanessa；？he clucked；sounding exactly like
a chicken。 ？The aviary is strictly off…limits。 This is where I e to think and be inspired！ You？ll
disturb the balance of creative energy simply by being in here！？
Of course！ The energy balance！
？Please； dear； just back away a little。 Not the drawings。 No one can see them until I？m done with
the preliminary sketches。？
？Sorry。？ Vanessa lamely backed away； trying to look repentant。 An aquamarine…speckled
parakeet squawked past her ear violently。 ？I guess I was just making myself at home。 You know；
like you？d suggested。？
？Well； there？s being a good guest and then there？s just plain intruding。？ Bailey frowned； hugging
his papers