Atelier Tanaka Novels & Stories

His head slowly shook lightly to tell her that she got the wrong idea about what he meant. "No, honey. It's AG Atelier. Do you know what AG Atelier is?" "Of course, I know. I studied fashion design before. This was the most outstanding fashion empire in the country right now and the first choice of company where young designers wanted to work the most. They held a competition every year for art and fashion students to join and gave scholarships to those who won and even offered them jobs here after graduation. I tried it once, but I didn't win though. Rumour said that the owner of the company, the Chairman lived on the top floor of the building. They said it was a penthouse up there. The Cha

ELARA'S POV The potter's name was Yuki Tanaka. She arrived Monday at ten with a portfolio case and the specific energy of someone who had prepared carefully and was trying not to show it. I brought her to the studio. She opened the portfolio on the desk without a preamble, which I liked. No explanation first, no framing. Just the work. I looked through it slowly. She watched me without speaking. The salt glaze pieces were the core of it. Twenty photographs across three years, the progression visible, the early work competent but rigid in the way I'd expected, the later work increasingly alive. The pot I'd bought at the market was from the most recent six months.

The atelier in Mayfair was a temple of silence and silk. It smelled of ozone from a discreet steamer, of fresh linen, and an unsettlingly clean floral scent Sabatine couldn’t identify. Racks of gowns, spectral in their garment bags, lined the walls like patient ghosts. The air hummed with a restrained, expensive expectation that made the back of her neck prickle.

“Can I get freshly made orange juice?” “Of course, sir. We still have fresh oranges. I’ll squeeze them right away.” Balancing the tray gracefully, she bowed and retreated toward the kitchen. Simon leaned back dramatically, stretching his arms. “Dude, what are you doing today? It’s almost evening. Let's blow off some steam at a club.” Calvin lifted a brow. “A club?” “Yeah. Onox or Atelier.” Atelier. The name lingered. A slow smirk curved Calvin’s lips. “Atelier. It’s more exclusive and more private.”

​Her thin face was illuminated by the harsh, blue light of her smartphone screen as she watched the men cut through the heavy padlock of the atelier's rear security gate with a hydraulic cutter. ​The metal lock gave way with a sharp, muted crack. ​The men pushed the rear wooden door open, slipping inside the dark, quiet building where Ariana’s dream, her sketches, her fabrics, and her upcoming international collection were stored. ​Selene stepped up to the doorway, looking inside the dark interior of the atelier. Her eyes flashed with a psychotic, terrifying glee as she watched the men begin unscrewing the caps of the metal canisters, splashing gasoline over the cutting tables, the fabric ro

What else are we going to do? We entered "Atelier Moderne," a vast fashion design shop with elements of a boutique, workspace and art gallery through its glass doors an hour later. The room amazed me with its tall ceilings alongside exposed brick walls displaying sketches and fabric samples while designers worked at their stations to craft new designs.

“Oh, by the way! I have something to discuss with you. Can we talk inside your office?” Tatiana rolled her blueprints before picking up her iPad and guiding Leila up to her office. They both entered the atelier which is now in the finishing phase. There were scaffoldings everywhere. The workers were applying the finishing paint on the walls. After this, they would only be adding the furniture and other decorations. It helped that she bought a small classic villa, so she’s only renovating a few stuff for her studio.

He looked to be in his early thirties, dressed in a sharp black suit with dark hair swept back and eyes that glittered with admiration. “Elena Blackwell,” he said warmly, bowing slightly. “I’m Hiro Tanaka. It’s an honor to finally meet you in person. Your show yesterday was extraordinary. The fluidity of your designs… magnifique.” “Thank you,” Elena said, smiling politely. “That means a lot coming from someone as talented as you.” Hiro’s grin widened. “Talent recognizes talent, I suppose. I’ve followed Maison Élitaire for years, but knowing now that you were the creative mind behind it—it makes perfect sense. I could spot your touch in every detail.”

I whispered to her when I noticed her countenance drop a little. The vast workroom hums with quiet energy. In the center, a dozen seamstresses in white coats sit over glowing worktables, their hands moving with terrifying precision. They stitch row after row of microscopic pearls onto a sweeping train. At the far end of the room, a lady who had over her nose a spectacles was staring at the work the girls were doing, she must be the Première d’Atelier, standing over a linen mannequin. She looks up, her sharp gaze softening just a fraction as she spotted me. Slipping a pair of heavy iron shears into her apron pockets she stepped down from her low wooden platform.

"Why noww?, why now?" for some reason, Tanaka's car seemed to be facing some major technical difficulties. She had turned the key multiple times but the engine wouldn't even cough. "Why aren't you using a Shin Sekai brand?" Yamato asked out of curiosity. Tanaka's restaurant was quite successful and it didn't didn't seem like she was financially lacking. Also, Shin Sekai products were very affordable and much more efficient than others. The reason she chose to distance herself from them was not something one could easily guess.