Last week I went with my chic friend to meet her dressmaker. I've been contemplating having my very favourite dress copied by someone skillful enough to reproduce it in a few different colours so I thought I might give this guy a whirl. Off we went to Monsieur Le Dressmaker (MLD)'s apartment. We walked in, my friend tanking ahead to greet him and I realised, she was pulling 'be nice' faces to him. MLD, his little helper and my friend, by the way, are all small people.
"My!" cried the dressmaker as I walked in "Isn't she TALL!!!" "Yes, very TALL" said his little helper. "Oh yes, she's so TALL!!!" said my friend. Now call me paranoid but be assured that in this situation 'TALL!' was a euphemism for 'HUGE' 'ENORMOUS' or 'GARGANTUAN'.
"Oh but very pretty" MLD added, hastily. "Yes" said his helper "er, pretty..." she said this in such a doubtful tone of voice that silence would have been her safest option. Luckily my friend piped up again "Oh yes,she's sooooooo pretty!!!" It was a bit like that scene from Anne of Green Gables when Anne meets Melissa Cuthbert's friend..except that unlike Anne, I kept silent instead of throwing a huge wobbler. Frankly, I was speechless. I don't know what I was expecting. Control I suppose but this is NYC and unless you are super-prepared in every eventuality, someone else is ALWAYS there to boss you around. This, by the way, is freaking me out about living here. In my life I have always been the biggest bossy boots in town, NYC is giving me a severe drubbing but don't worry, I'm working on my come-back. SO back to the dressmaker's, where it gets worse. Next thing I knew, tiny woman was measuring me. She tied a piece of string around where she thought my waist was, below my natural line. "I've got a very long body" I said, "Sorry." I am SO English. Anyway, she measured me while my friend and the dressmaker stood and watched with worried looks on their faces.
Then, for the next hour or so, MLD tried to be nice to me...telling how Mrs ------lestein had spent $500,000 with him already THIS SEASON and how he had dressed one distinguished lady I know of, who is according to him 'an Arkansas shop girl'. Presumably, that's a bad thing. Instead of doing the right thing, leaping to my feet and saying politely and firmly to all 'Sorry everyone, I am in a wrong place/wrong time situation' I stayed in my seat nodding like a nodding poodle on the back window sill of 1966 Morris Minor. Eventually, realising I was late for a lunch, I stood up abruptly and shouted over the top of MLD's "She's no better than she should be but she spent $250,000" monologue "SORRY! Must dash!" Phone numbers were swapped and I promised to call. Why did I do that? Now they all think I am actually going to call him and go back. I'm not.
No comments:
Post a Comment