Shopping didn’t exist on my to do list. And shopping for a sixteen-year-old? Even less. But I’d wound up agreeing to help my niece, Simone, find a dress for her upcoming graduation. Don’t ask me why.
Knowing I’d fail before I even started, I enlisted my best friend’s capable help. Her magic touch would help us find an appropriate outfit. Literally.
Simone prowled through racks of rainbow hued fabric scraps. Disentangling a hanger, she extricated a wisp of electric fuchsia that jarred my eyes.
“Whoa, are you sure you want to wear a shirt that’s so… vibrant,” I asked.
“It’s a dress, Aunt Tina. And yes.” She draped it over one arm, and returned to perusing the racks.
“Then that won’t work.” Snatching it off her arm before she could protest, I struggled to insert it back where Simone found it. Her mother would eviscerate me if we purchased such a gaudy non-dress.
“How about this one?” Carla maneuvered items aside and touched a scant inch of gossamer pink. The same one I’d tried without success to hide. As she held it out, tendrils of shimmery fabric flowed over her palm, curling and frothing in a mass of organza and silk.
“Oh, I didn’t see that one.” Simone clasped it to her with one hand and pirouetted. The strands billowed around her in sunset shades. “Let me try it on.”
I grinned at Carla in gratitude, knowing both Simone and her mother would approve. Long enough for Simone’s mother, flashy enough for a young girl.