我想，此时是对父亲的忠告最严峻的考验。这次的出路在哪儿呢?我满腹狐疑，心急如焚。我确信只有两条路可走：要么取消时装表演;要么展出没有完工的时装。就在这时，我茅塞顿开：为什么不把没有做完的衣服拿出来展览呢?

　　我们紧张匆忙地工作着。正好13天后，斯基亚帕雷利的时装展览准时开幕了。

　　这是一次什么样的展览呀!有些上衣没有袖子，有的只有一只袖子，许多衣服还在初缝阶段。它们只是一些用厚棉布做成的衣服试样，但在这些试样上我们别上了衣服的草图和衣料，这样我们就能告诉人们这些衣服做成之后的颜色和质地。

　　总而言之，这次服装展别开生面，它太不同凡响了，竟取得了巨大的成功。不寻常的展览吸引了公众的注意，订单源源不断。

　　父亲很有见地的那番话再次指引我度过了难关。通往广场的路的确不止一条。

　　“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.