Page 77 of Love Lessons
TWENTY-SIX
I’m Actually Tired of Shopping
VERA
“It’shard for me to admit this, but I’m actually tired of shopping.” I make this dramatic announcement as Charli, Heidi Jo, and I drop into cafe chairs on one of the cute streets of Lugano.
Charli had asked me if I was interested in driving to this Swiss town for the day, and I’d jumped at the chance to double the number of foreign countries on my first international trip. But now I’m bushed.
“My feet hurt,” Heidi Jo admits. “But I thought we saved the best store for last?”
“We did,” Charli says. “And we have to go in, because Vera and I still don’t have dresses for the gala.”
“Maybe I’m not meant to go,” I mumble. “It’s a sign from the fashion gods to stay home.”
“Whoareyou? And what have you done with Vera?” Charli demands. “And if I have to go to this thing, you have to go. That’s a rule.”
A waiter appears and begins unloading cups of espresso onto the table.
“Grazie mille,” I say in thanks.
“You definitely need caffeine,” Charli says, pushing a cup into my hands. “Drink this. And then we’re going to find your dress.”
“Maybe,” I concede. We’ve been to Milan twice now, though, and I also shopped Bellagio from end to end. But the only dresses I’ve liked have been way out of my price range.
Maybe itisa sign. The right dress is magic. And the absence of magic is notable, in this case.
And—here’s a rebellious thought—I can’t picture my ex tromping all over two different countries looking for just the right suit to impressme.
Funny how this never occurred to me before now.
After coffee, we head forLa Boutique Rosa, where several sparkly dresses adorn the window. And I promise myself I won’t try on anything I can’t afford. Danforth isn’t worth the stress of a credit card bill I can’t pay, right?
Right, my inner critic agrees.Unless this is your last chance to make him love you again. Just saying.
“You shut up,” I whisper under my breath as my girls and I fan out in the shop.
Heidi Jo holds up a salmon ball gown. “I need to go to more fancy parties,” Heidi Jo complains. “So that I’ll have somewhere to wear this.”
“You’d look beautiful in that,” I agree. But a glance at the price tag confirms that I’m in over my head here.
The shop is lovely, though. I enjoy my time pulling dresses off the rack, admiring the Italian and French designers’ style and thinking about all the trends I’m seeing. Fringe is back, and feathers are also in. Asymmetrical necklines are everywhere. I take an Instagram pic of a whole row of dresses in begonia pink, a color that’s having a moment.
“Vera!” Charli whistles for me. “Come here a second.”
I look around, but don’t spot her. And then I see a hand waving to me from the very back of the shop. There’s a rack markedprezzo ridotto. Reduced price. And Charli is holding up a floor-length ballgown in a simple style with a high waist and a sweeping skirt. There’s a sweetheart neckline and slender shoulder straps.
And the whole thing is done in a rich shade of dark red that would look spectacular against my Italy tan.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “That’s gorgeous.”
“I love the hem,” she says. “There’s a soft wire inside it that makes the shape of the skirt more interesting.”
She’s right. The hem detail makes the dress. “That is really cute. Do you mean this for me or you? That color could go either way.”
“It’s for you, dingus. But that hem couldn’t easily be shortened. Maybe that’s why it didn’t sell? It has to be exactly the right length, or it won’t work. This one is a petite length, though. Try it on?”
“Wow, all right. Good eye, girly.”
