As Tuesday and I returned to town, my cell phone rang. It was the call that I had been waiting for – Guy Hanson. Our conversation was brief and mostly one sided because I was self conscious of talking to Guy on the phone with Tuesday unavoidably listening. I didn’t want to be rude to Tuesday yet I was anxious to talk to Guy. It was a successful phone call resulting in a dinner date.
It took all of five seconds for Tuesday to pull that bit of news from me. She was asking me more details than I had sorted out yet. Where are you going? What are you going you wear? Are you going to wear your hair up? Geez, I just wanted to get to know Guy a little better, not create upheaval in my comfortable life. Tuesday finally declared, “You are going shopping and I am going to help”.
Instead of taking me home she took me to Jana Chic, an upscale woman’s clothing and jewelry store on the square. This was the type of business that offered one-on-one customer service meaning they barged into your dressing room. They also measured bra shoppers before allowing them to browse the drawers of intimate apparel. In Jana’s world, customers could not be trusted to correctly pick out the proper size and style of brassiere.
“Hi Tuesday, how are you? I haven’t seen you in a while” Jana was in full sales mode. She extended her hand to me to shake and introduced herself. Apparently she didn’t remember that embarrassing incident several years ago where I actually wanted to purchase a piece of lingerie without being professionally measured first. She had stood her ground on the basis that once purchased, it could not be returned.
“This is my friend Brinkley and she needs something for a hot date tonight” Apparently Tuesday’s expectations for the evening were a bit different from my own.
“Oh, that’s exciting. Is this a first date?” she inquired with professionalism. She wasn’t being noisy. Apparently these details have something to do with picking out an outfit. I answered it was a first date but with someone I had known a while and that we are starting off as friends, don’t want to move to fast, scare him away. “I know just what you mean” and she winked as she responded. “Fisherman?” she asked. I nodded.
I had no idea what the lovely Jana would pull for me to try on. Everything about her appearance was perfect. Perfectly coiffed hair, perfectly fitting red dress, and the perfect metallic shoe created a feeling of “Jana knows best”. I knew a bit about fashion and good grooming but Jana knew about jaw-dropping presence. She quickly returned with an armful of clothing and I felt myself surrender to her expertise. I tried on everything she brought to me and kept an open mind when I saw a color or cut that looked unappealing on the hanger. She never lied to me to make a sale. In fact, I thought she was hypercritical. I would have settled for several of the items in her reject stack.
Eventually we agreed on a pair of trouser-cut dark denim jeans, brown metallic sandals, and an updated version of a peasant shirt. This one had elastic all the way around the neckline so that it could be worn on or off the shoulder and the short capped sleeves were elasticized as well. Just under the bust line there was cummerbund of sorts, a four inch braid of the same solid color peach chambray fabric, and Jana explained that it would accentuate the narrowest part of my torso. I stopped short of buying jewelry and new underwear but left with explicit instructions on what to look for in my own collection.
“Come back when you are ready to order your wedding dress” she joked as Tuesday and I left the store. We were in the car, heading back to my house when we both saw the Island Breeze truck – the paper was out!