BCBG Malika Dress, TopShop heels.
It’s been a dream of mine to be in a saleswomen’s BOOK. In this dream, a gorgeous and kind of mean lady who works in high end, luxury retail drops me a line every now again… “Molly, put aside these Dior Boudoir Slippers for you…,” “Hey Mols, did you get the package I sent? With the Valentino Maxi and the Araks silk jammies? Just send back what you don’t want.” Phone calls to inform me of upcoming sales, little treasures plucked out just for me, getting bullied (in the NICEST way) into racking up massive credit card bills while sorting through these season’s Derek Lam. You know, just a regular CLIENT OF SHOPPING.
In reality, there is a very sweet and not intimidating at all women named Jeanine who works at the BCBG factory store at the Lighthouse Mall in Michigan City, Indiana. AND YOU BETTER BELIEVE I. AM. IN. HER. BOOK. (Celebratory emoji here.) Jeanine calls me to tell me when there is going to be a clearance sale or when… actually, that’s basically it. BUT. She knows my name! And starts a fitting room for me! And rings me up and asks about my mom, Mimi! She always wears a leather jacket (managers there are required to wear three pieces) and knows my sizes. I LOVE HER. AND IT’S CLOSING. (Cry face emoji here, the real one not the laugh cry one, though both probably make sense for this situation.) The backbone of my work wardrobe comes from here. At least 50% of my Make A Wish Ball dresses have come from here (last years black crew neck extra long sleeve witch dress, I’m looking at you). And she’s the only one who’s ever called. A real heartbreak.
SO. Man, did Mimi and I ever shop. I picked up this purple jacquard drop waist flounce dress for a steal. AND got the matching top. (I tried to wear it OVER the dress but it crossed into Robot Costume/Fembot (are those the same thing?) territory.) When I went to Versailles this past weekend to wander the gardens and dip into the Hall of Mirrors, I wanted to bounce a reflection back into infinity of 1) This magical ice purple brocade and 2) My undying appreciation for Jeanine and the store that gave me my first adult work wardrobe that didn’t make me look like I was wearing a secratary costume and 3) My grief at knowing the era is over and it will likely be decades before the phone rings again and I answer to “Molly? Just wanted to let you know….”
NARS eyepaint in Interstellar.
RELATED NEWS: I rarely leave the house anymore without painting the tips of my ears. You shouldn’t either. Makes you feel like magic, even when you feel like crying. (SOBS *jeanine!* SOBS.)