通往廣場的路不止一條(More Than One Way to the Square)

　　通往廣場的路不止一條

　　當時我們正站在一個教堂塔樓的頂上，是父親把我從羅馬的家里帶到這個離家不遠的意大利小鎮樓頂上來的，我不明白他要做什么。

　　“向下看，埃爾莎，”父親對我說。我鼓足勇氣向下看去，看到了村子中央的廣場，還看到蜿蜒曲折的街道交錯著通向這個廣場。

　　爸爸語氣溫和地對我說：“明白了吧，親愛的，通向廣場的路不止一條，生活也是如此，如果一條路走不到想去的地方，就試著走另一條路。”

　　現在我明白我為什么會到這兒來了。那天早些時候我請求媽媽為學校提供的難吃午餐想點兒辦法，但她拒絕了我的要求，她不相信學校的午餐會像我說的那樣糟。

　　我轉向爸爸求援，他不想干預此事，卻把我帶到這個高塔上，給我上了一課。到家時，我已經有了主意。

　　第二天在學校吃午餐時，我偷偷地把我的那份午餐湯倒進一個瓶子，把它帶回了家，然后說服廚師，讓她在晚餐時把湯端給媽媽。我的計劃進行得很成功。媽媽喝了一勺湯，就吐了出來，說：“廚師一定發瘋了!”我馬上告訴媽媽這是我安排的，媽媽斬釘截鐵地表示她第二天就去學校就午餐問題提出交涉。

　　隨后的這些年里，我時常記起爸爸給我上的這一課。我知道我的人生目標：我想當時裝設計師!就在我走向第一個小小的成功之路時，卻遇到了阻礙。怎么辦呢?是承認此路不通，敗下陣來;還是發揮想像力和智慧，去尋找通向目標的另一條道路呢?

　　我帶著我的設計草圖來到世界時裝中心巴黎，但是好像沒有一個著名的時裝設計師有興趣購買。后來有一天，我遇到一位朋友，她穿著一件非常好看的毛線衫，毛線衫的色彩平淡，但是針法卻可愛、別致。

　　我問她：“毛線衫是你織的嗎?”

　　她回答：“不，是巴黎的一位婦女織的。”

　　“針法真棒!”我又說。

　　朋友解釋說：“這位婦女叫維迪安太太，她跟我說她是在她出生地亞美尼亞學的這種織法。”

　　突然，我想在這件毛線衫上織出一個大膽的圖案，繼而一個更為大膽的設想閃現在我的腦海里。為什么不開辦自己的時裝店呢?為什么不設計、制作和銷售斯基亞帕雷利時裝店的服裝呢?我要這樣做，而且要從毛線衫開始。

　　我畫了一個醒目的黑白相間的蝴蝶圖案，把它交給維迪安太太，她把這個圖案織到了一件毛線衫上。我認為這件成品很漂亮，接著就是對它的檢驗。我穿上毛線衫，來到一個時裝界人士參加的午餐會，令我十分高興的是，毛線衫引起了眾人的注意。事實上，紐約一家大商店的代理商想在兩周內得到40件這樣的毛線衫。我接受了他的訂貨，興高采烈地走出了餐廳。

　　然而當我站在維迪安太太面前時，喜悅之情就一掃而光了。她說：“我幾乎用一周才織完這樣一件毛線衫，兩周織40件是不可能的!”

　　我非常失望，離成功僅有半步之遙，竟又被迎頭堵住了!我悲傷地走出維迪安太太的家，突然停下了腳步，一定有別的辦法可以辦到。這種針法確實需要特殊的技巧，然而在巴黎一定還有其他亞美尼亞婦女會這種針法。

　　我回到維迪安太太的家，向她講述了我的計劃。她真的認為這個計劃行不通，但同意幫我的忙。

　　我和維迪安太太像偵探似地開始行動，我們追蹤任何一位住在巴黎的亞美尼亞人。一個朋友把我們介紹給另一個朋友，就這樣我們終于找到了20名亞美尼亞婦女，她們個個都會這種特殊的針法。兩星期后，毛線衫都織好了，新開張的斯基亞帕雷利時裝店第一批貨物被發往美國!

　　從那天開始，一批批時裝和香水源源不斷地從新開張的時裝店售出。我發現時裝業充滿競爭和冒險，令人愉快和興奮。我永生難忘那一次真正充滿挑戰的服裝展覽，是爸爸的那條忠告再次幫助了我。我正忙著準備展覽冬季時裝，就在時裝表演開始前13天，縫紉女工們被叫去參加罷工，我發現只剩下我自己、一個裁縫和一個縫紉車間的女主管!我像我的模特和女售貨員一樣沮喪，有一個女售貨員哭道：“我們絕對趕不上了!”

　　我想，此時是對父親的忠告最嚴峻的考驗。這次的出路在哪兒呢?我滿腹狐疑，心急如焚。我確信只有兩條路可走：要么取消時裝表演;要么展出沒有完工的時裝。就在這時，我茅塞頓開：為什么不把沒有做完的衣服拿出來展覽呢?

　　我們緊張匆忙地工作著。正好13天后，斯基亞帕雷利的時裝展覽準時開幕了。

　　這是一次什么樣的展覽呀!有些上衣沒有袖子，有的只有一只袖子，許多衣服還在初縫階段。它們只是一些用厚棉布做成的衣服試樣，但在這些試樣上我們別上了衣服的草圖和衣料，這樣我們就能告訴人們這些衣服做成之后的顏色和質地。

　　總而言之，這次服裝展別開生面，它太不同凡響了，竟取得了巨大的成功。不尋常的展覽吸引了公眾的注意，訂單源源不斷。

　　父親很有見地的那番話再次指引我度過了難關。通往廣場的路的確不止一條。

　　“look down, elsa,” father said. i gathered all my courage and looked down. i saw the square in the center of the village. and i saw the crisscross1 of twisting, turning streets leading to the square.

　　“see, my dear,” father said gently. “there is more than one way to the square. life is like that. if you can't get to the place where you want to go by one road, try another.”

　　now i understood why i was there. earlier that day i had begged my mother to do something about the awful lunches that were served at school. but she refused because she could not believe the lunches were as bad as i said.

　　when i turned to father for help, he would not interfere. instead, he brought me to this high tower to give me a lesson. by the time we reached home, i had a plan.

　　at school the next day, i secretly poured my luncheon soup into a bottle and brought it home. then i talked the cook into serving it to mother at dinner. the plan worked perfectly. she swallowed2 one spoonful3 and sputtered4, “the cook must have gone mad!” quickly i told what i had done, and mother stated firmly that she would take up the matter of lunches at school the next day!

　　in the years that followed i often remembered the lesson father taught me. i knew where i wanted to go in life. i wanted to be a fashion designer. and on the way to my first small success i found the road blocked. what could i do? accept the roadblock5 and fail?or use imagination and wits to find another road to my goal?

　　i had come to paris, the center of the world of fashion, with my sketches6. but none of the famous fashion designers seemed interested in buying them. then one day i met a friend who was wearing a very beautiful sweater. it was plain in color, but it had a lovely and unusual stitch7.

　　“did you knit8 that sweater?” i asked her.

　　“no,” she answered. “it was done by a woman here in paris.”

　　“what an interesting stitch!” i continued.

　　my friend had an explanation. “the woman her name is mrs. vidian—told me she learned the stitch in armenia, her native country.”

　　suddenly i pictured a daring design knitted into such a sweater. then an even more daring idea came to me. why not open my own house of fashion? why not design, make and sell clothes from the house of schiaparelli9! i would do it, and i would begin with a sweater.

　　i drew a bold black and white butterfly pattern and took it to mrs. vidian. she knitted it into a sweater. the result, i thought, was wonderful. then came the test. i wore the sweater to a luncheon which people in the fashion business would attend. to my great pleasure, the sweater was noticed. in fact, the representative of a large new york store wanted 40 sweaters to be ready in two weeks. i accepted the order and walked out on a cloud of happiness.

　　my cloud disappeared suddenly, however, when i stood in front of mrs. vidian. “but it took me almost a week to knit that one sweater,” she said. “forty sweaters in two weeks? it is not possible!”

　　i was crushed to be so close to success and then to be blocked! sadly i walked away. all at once i stopped short. there must be another way. this stitch did take special skill. but surely there must be other armenian women in paris who knew how to do it.

　　i went back to mrs. vidian and explained my plan. she really didn't think it would work, but she agreed to help.

　　we were like detectives10, mrs. vidian and i. we put ourselves on the trail11 of any armenians who lived in paris. one friend led us to another. at last we tracked down 20 women, each of whom could knit the special stitch. two weeks later the sweaters were finished. and the first shipment from the new house of schiaparelli was on its way to the united states!

　　from that day a steady stream of clothes and perfumes12 flowed from the house of schiaparelli. i found the world of fashion gay13 and exciting, full of challenge and adventure. i shall never forget one showing which was really a challenge. once again father's advice helped me. i was busy getting ready to show my winter fashions. then just 13 days before the presentation the sewing girls were called out on strike. i found myself left with one tailor and woman who was in charge of the sewing room! i was as gloomy14 as my models and salesgirls. “we'll never make it,”one of them cried.

　　here, i thought, is the test of all tests for father's advice. where is the way out this time? i wondered and worried. i was certain we would have to call off the presentation or else show the clothes unfinished. then it dawned on15 me. why not show the clothes unfinished?

　　we worked hurriedly. and, exactly 13 days later, right on time, the schiaparelli showing took place.

　　what a showing it was! some coats had no sleeves; others had only one. many of our clothes were still in an early stage. they were only patterns made of heavy cotton cloth. but on these we pinned sketches and pieces of material. in this way we were able to show that what colors and textures the clothes would have when they were finished.

　　all in all, the showing was different. it was so different that it was a great success. our unusual showing caught the attention of the public, and orders for the clothes poured in.

　　father's wise words had guided me once again. there is more than one way to the square always.