There’s a smart looking woman, I’d say, in her early 70s walking up Madison I’m trailing behind.
She’s wearing black capris, a black boat-necked top peeking under a simple understated, slate gray gabardine trench, with Audrey flats beneath bare ankles.
I’m wondering if she’s cold.
I can’t help staring, finding myself, fashionably dazzled.
We both pop into the drugstore, emerging at the same time, so I stop to say, “I have to tell you…you look so great. I wish I owned your whole outfit.”
She’s clearly startled by this, but then says, “Thank you so much. I can’t say the last time anyone paid me a compliment.”
I now notice what look to be, gray raw pearls gracing her ears. Also that she’s not carrying a purse. A hint of lipstick taints her front teeth, but then again, it could be a shadow.
“Maybe people just aren’t as bold as I am,” I say, “because I’m sure I’m not the first to notice. You look… I pause searching for theright words…how can I put it…very Carolina Herrera, yes, that’s it…the way the lines of your coat fall just so.”
Suddenly a black sedan pulls up, the driver jumping out to open the door. Before getting in, the woman says, “You’ve made my day. Can I drop you anywhere?”
Suddenly I’m in a 40s movie.
“No,” I say smiling, “I’m very near where I live, but thank you for the offer.”
I watch her glide in, the well heeled driver closing the door, thinking, that’s that, when suddenly the car is alongside me.
She rolls down the window, grinning like a kid.
“So you know, it is Carolina Herrera. She’s all I wear.”
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.