Shopaholic Takes Manhattan
Page 82
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We arrive at a suite of large dressing rooms, and the woman shows me in with a smile.
“Your personal shopper today will be Erin,” she says. “Erin has only recently joined us, so she will be receiving some occasional guidance from a senior Barneys shopper. Will that be all right?”
“Absolutely!” I say, taking off my coat.
“Would you prefer tea, coffee, or champagne?”
“Champagne,” I say quickly. “Thanks.”
“Very well,” she says with a smile. “Ah, and here’s Erin.”
I look up with interest, to see a tall thin girl coming into the dressing room. She’s got straight blond hair and a small, kind of squashed-looking mouth. In fact her whole face looks as though she were once squeezed between a pair of lift doors and never quite recovered.
“Hello,” she says, and I watch her mouth in fascination as she smiles. “I’m Erin — and I’ll be helping you find the outfit to best suit your needs.”
“Great!” I say. “Can’t wait!”
I wonder how this Erin got her job. Not by her taste in shoes, certainly.
“So…” Erin looks at me thoughtfully. “What were you looking for today?”
“I have a screen test tomorrow,” I explain. “I want to look kind of… smart and sassy, but approachable, too. Maybe with a little witty twist somewhere.”
“A witty twist,” echoes Erin, scribbling on her pad. “Right. And were you thinking… a suit? A jacket?”
“Well,” I say, and launch into an exact explanation of what I’m looking for. Erin listens carefully, and I notice a dark-haired woman in tortoiseshell glasses occasionally coming to the door of our dressing room and listening too.
“Right,” says Erin, when I’ve finished. “Well, you certainly have some ideas there…” She taps her teeth for a moment. “I’m thinking… we have a very nice fitted jacket by Moschino, with roses on the collar…”
“Oh, I know the one!” I say in delight. “I was thinking of that, too!”
“Along with… there’s a new skirt in the Barneys collection…”
“The black one?” I say. “With the buttons just here? Yes, I thought of that, but it’s a bit short. I was thinking of the knee-length one. You know, with the ribbon round the hem…”
“We’ll see,” says Erin, with a pleasant smile. “Let me line up some pieces for you, and we can have a look.”
As she goes off to gather up clothes, I sit down and sip my champagne. This isn’t bad, actually. I mean, it’s much less effort than trawling round the shop myself. I can half-hear a murmured conversation going on in the dressing room next door — and suddenly a woman’s voice rises in distress, saying, “I just want to show that bastard. I just want to show him!”
“And we will show him, Marcia,” replies a calm, soothing voice, which I think belongs to the woman in tortoiseshell glasses. “We will. But not in a cherry-red pantsuit.”
“Okaaay!” Erin is back in the dressing room, wheeling in a rack of clothes. I run my eye quickly over them, and notice quite a few of the things I’d already picked out for myself. But what about the knee-length skirt? And what about that amazing aubergine trouser suit with the leather collar?
“So, here’s the jacket for you to try… and the skirt…”
I take the clothes from her, and look doubtfully at the skirt. I just know it’s going to be too short. But then, she’s the expert, I suppose… Quickly I change into the skirt and jacket — then come and stand in front of the mirror, next to Erin.
“The jacket’s fabulous!” I say. “And it fits me perfectly. I love the cut.”
I don’t really want to say anything about the skirt. I mean, I don’t want to hurt her feelings — but it looks all wrong.
“Now, let’s see,” says Erin. She stands with her head on one side and squints at my reflection. “I’m thinking a skirt to the knee might look better, after all.”
“Like the one I told you about!” I say in relief. “It’s on the seventh floor, right next to the—”
“Possibly,” she says, and smiles. “But I have a few other skirts in mind…”
“Or the Dolce & Gabbana one on the third floor,” I add. “I was looking at it earlier. Or the DKNY.”
“DKNY?” says Erin, wrinkling her brow. “I don’t believe…”
“The assistant there told me they’re new in. So nice. You should have a look at them!” I turn round and look carefully at her outfit. “You know what? The mauve DKNY would look really good with that turtleneck you’re wearing. And you could team it with a pair of those new Stephane Kelian boots with the spiky heels. You know the ones?”
“Your personal shopper today will be Erin,” she says. “Erin has only recently joined us, so she will be receiving some occasional guidance from a senior Barneys shopper. Will that be all right?”
“Absolutely!” I say, taking off my coat.
“Would you prefer tea, coffee, or champagne?”
“Champagne,” I say quickly. “Thanks.”
“Very well,” she says with a smile. “Ah, and here’s Erin.”
I look up with interest, to see a tall thin girl coming into the dressing room. She’s got straight blond hair and a small, kind of squashed-looking mouth. In fact her whole face looks as though she were once squeezed between a pair of lift doors and never quite recovered.
“Hello,” she says, and I watch her mouth in fascination as she smiles. “I’m Erin — and I’ll be helping you find the outfit to best suit your needs.”
“Great!” I say. “Can’t wait!”
I wonder how this Erin got her job. Not by her taste in shoes, certainly.
“So…” Erin looks at me thoughtfully. “What were you looking for today?”
“I have a screen test tomorrow,” I explain. “I want to look kind of… smart and sassy, but approachable, too. Maybe with a little witty twist somewhere.”
“A witty twist,” echoes Erin, scribbling on her pad. “Right. And were you thinking… a suit? A jacket?”
“Well,” I say, and launch into an exact explanation of what I’m looking for. Erin listens carefully, and I notice a dark-haired woman in tortoiseshell glasses occasionally coming to the door of our dressing room and listening too.
“Right,” says Erin, when I’ve finished. “Well, you certainly have some ideas there…” She taps her teeth for a moment. “I’m thinking… we have a very nice fitted jacket by Moschino, with roses on the collar…”
“Oh, I know the one!” I say in delight. “I was thinking of that, too!”
“Along with… there’s a new skirt in the Barneys collection…”
“The black one?” I say. “With the buttons just here? Yes, I thought of that, but it’s a bit short. I was thinking of the knee-length one. You know, with the ribbon round the hem…”
“We’ll see,” says Erin, with a pleasant smile. “Let me line up some pieces for you, and we can have a look.”
As she goes off to gather up clothes, I sit down and sip my champagne. This isn’t bad, actually. I mean, it’s much less effort than trawling round the shop myself. I can half-hear a murmured conversation going on in the dressing room next door — and suddenly a woman’s voice rises in distress, saying, “I just want to show that bastard. I just want to show him!”
“And we will show him, Marcia,” replies a calm, soothing voice, which I think belongs to the woman in tortoiseshell glasses. “We will. But not in a cherry-red pantsuit.”
“Okaaay!” Erin is back in the dressing room, wheeling in a rack of clothes. I run my eye quickly over them, and notice quite a few of the things I’d already picked out for myself. But what about the knee-length skirt? And what about that amazing aubergine trouser suit with the leather collar?
“So, here’s the jacket for you to try… and the skirt…”
I take the clothes from her, and look doubtfully at the skirt. I just know it’s going to be too short. But then, she’s the expert, I suppose… Quickly I change into the skirt and jacket — then come and stand in front of the mirror, next to Erin.
“The jacket’s fabulous!” I say. “And it fits me perfectly. I love the cut.”
I don’t really want to say anything about the skirt. I mean, I don’t want to hurt her feelings — but it looks all wrong.
“Now, let’s see,” says Erin. She stands with her head on one side and squints at my reflection. “I’m thinking a skirt to the knee might look better, after all.”
“Like the one I told you about!” I say in relief. “It’s on the seventh floor, right next to the—”
“Possibly,” she says, and smiles. “But I have a few other skirts in mind…”
“Or the Dolce & Gabbana one on the third floor,” I add. “I was looking at it earlier. Or the DKNY.”
“DKNY?” says Erin, wrinkling her brow. “I don’t believe…”
“The assistant there told me they’re new in. So nice. You should have a look at them!” I turn round and look carefully at her outfit. “You know what? The mauve DKNY would look really good with that turtleneck you’re wearing. And you could team it with a pair of those new Stephane Kelian boots with the spiky heels. You know the ones?”
