I put up a hand. “Wait! That’s not right.”
The assistants stop.
Monique gives me a wide-eyed look, like I just told her we’re in the middle of Texas. “What do you mean, not right?”
“You can’t just eye my breasts for a bra sizing,” I point out. “Mine’s different from what you said.”
Monique gives me a pitying look. “Somebody did you an injustice, honey. They measured you wrong. I bet what you’re wearing isn’t all that comfortable.”
“Well…yeah… But…” I thought it was because I bought cheap bras, not because the sizing’s wrong.
“If you have correctly fitted bras that are well constructed, they’ll be very comfortable.”
Elizabeth nods vigorously. I glance over, but Tolyan’s attention is solely on whatever’s on his tablet.
“We simply do not have uncomfortable bras,” Monique says with a confident smile. “As a matter of fact, we do not have anything uncomfortable as long as we stick with one the right size and fit. Trust me, Angelika. I’m the fashion fairy godmother everyone wishes they had. When I’m through with you, you’re going to be gorgeous and comfortable. And men”—she casts a knowing glance in Tolyan’s direction—“will fall over themselves for a chance to chat with you.”
I flush at the picture she’s drawing. It sounds like a dream to have something that looks so pretty and comfy. Of course, Tolyan doesn’t seem to care if what I’m going to end up buying is pretty or comfy, since he’s focused on his tablet.
Still, I like what Monique’s saying. I inhale deeply, ready to put myself at her mercy.
“Let’s bring out the refreshments,” she says. “This is supposed to be fun and relaxing.”
“Exactly,” Elizabeth agrees, then looks at me. “Is a mimosa good, or would you like something else?”
“A mimosa would be fine. Thank you,” I say. I’m not that picky about drinks. I don’t drink much to begin with—alcohol is one of those things I don’t want to spend money on.
Monique turns to her assistants. “You heard them. Let’s have something tasty. And bring out everything in the size I specified.”
While her assistants push out four racks, heavy with clothes, two silver trays appear. A glass of vodka for Tolyan—I know better than to think it’s just water—and another for Elizabeth, plus a mimosa. Tolyan’s tray has berry and peach tarts and a chocolate and strawberry parfait. Ours has bowls of fresh fruit with some kind of white goo poured on top.
I point. “What’s that?” I whisper at Elizabeth, hoping it’s white chocolate, since Tolyan’s getting his parfait.
“Yogurt sweetened with honey. You aren’t allergic, are you?”
I shake my head, then glance over at Tolyan’s options. His are far superior to ours.
Probably because the entrance ladies really like him.
Monique starts out with tops and pants and skirts. She takes me to the dressing room and asks me to change into them. “Come out after each outfit. And make sure to put on the right shoes.” She lays out twenty sets, already coordinated.
And they look fabulous, the colors and style all elegant and fashionable. None look overly trendy, for which I’m grateful. They’re all classic, something I can wear for years if I want.
“You want me to try them all?” I say, half overwhelmed and half excited. Actually, based on the flutter in my belly, more than half.
“No other way to see how they look on you. Not that any of them will look bad, but it’s always fun to have people go ooh and aah as you try on new clothes. We’re doing your underwear later, and for that you don’t have to strut in front of us. Unless you want to, of course.”
“Ah, no, thank you.”
“I thought not.” Monique smiles. “Here. My assistants will help if you need it. Just call out.”
I nod then slip into a huge dressing room and change into the first set—a gorgeous cream-colored top and a magenta skirt with a flirty flare that shows off my long legs. It’ll be perfect for a casual night out or day in an office. The material’s so, so soft, like a cloud spun into clothes. And—as promised—the fit is perfect.
I stand in front of the huge mirror. Wow. I can’t believe how different I look, just by putting on the new clothes Monique picked out. Without the drab outfit, I look my age—maybe even younger. My clothes used to just hang on me, but these hug and showcase my body. I’m suddenly extra glad I’ve put in all the time jogging.
This must be how people with money shop…and how they dress. No wonder Tolyan looked at my outfit and disapproved.
I slip my feet into the nude slingbacks one of the assistants slipped into the dressing room. My God. I look even better!