|Nothing makes a statement like a tasteful topper in a becoming color. |
Perhaps this one makes an exclamation.
“Hmm, what season are you?” asked the salesgirl’s nose, hovering six inches above my head, even the spot where my hair sticks up.
“Near as I can tell I’m somewhere between Cruel, Cruel Summer and Winter of My Discontent,” I answered. “Nothing looks good on me except the color of purple that you bury people in.”
Naselrod held a sample of cloth next to my face like she was matching carpet swatches to the creature the cat dragged in.
“I see black is not our color.”
“Well, nobody can wear it like Batman, can they?”
She plucked something swishy off the rack like a hawk plunge-diving fifty feet for lunch. “What about midnight blue. Ev-ree-body can wear midnight blue.”
We stared at each other over the quivering gossamer strip. I got the impression that the first one to blink gets to go into the Coliseum to play with the big kitties.
She wrinkled her nose, which is something like shortsheeting Michael Jordan’s bed. “Well, almost everybody.”
“Honey, you could spin the color wheel like it was payday on Wheel of Fortune and not find a season for me.
I wouldn’t be standing at the mercy of the Sales Nose from Hell, but I needed a dress to wear to my son’s graduation. In my family if one of our gang hangs with the same course of study long enough to get a sheepskin, we’re going to dress up and go grab the diploma before somebody changes their mind.
About that time a portly lady in a lavender suit entered the shop, sending the little bell on the door into a tinkling explosion.
“I’ll take that suit,” I squealed, pointing at her.
“But it’s not for sale.”
“A suit the color people are buried in is always for sale,” I said, waving a wad of crumpled cash under Suit Lady’s nose.
That night, getting dressed for the graduation ceremony, I smoothed my lavender skirt and admired the clever cut of the jacket.
It was a perfect night. My son was graduating and I had a dress that was to die for.