Being Audrey Hepburn (24 page)

I laughed along, but truthfully I’d never even seen Tabitha wear anything more than once. I’d never seen her photographed in the same dress. Her sense of need was clearly different than that of most people on the planet.

“So if your mother wasn’t around, who took care of you when you were little?”

“Me and my charge card,” she said and let out an awkward laugh. “My mother had this big breakdown after my stepfather left. That was like three husbands ago. She was in rehab a really long time, and she made Robert my guardian until I was eighteen and put him in charge of my trust. All the doctors and lawyers made her do it. Then Robert made himself my business manager. Everything has to be signed by him. He controls all the money. It’s been the worst thing.”

Tabitha fell silent and gazed out the window. I had a thousand questions, but I didn’t want her to start tearing up again. So I stayed quiet for the rest of the ride.

At Barneys, Valerie was ready for us. She had already laid out a collection for Tabitha, and for me as well. The attractive dark-haired woman in her fifties had a Mediterranean complexion. She was somehow both sophisticated and matronly. Utterly attentive, she exuded warmth and understanding while constantly fingering her tortoiseshell glasses on a chain. It was easy to see why Tabitha was so fond of her.

Valerie’s assistant, Erica, brought us flutes of champagne as we staged our own little dressing-room fashion show. It reminded me of the times Jess and I invaded her mother’s closet and tried on all her mom’s dresses, only we were in Barneys and these dresses cost a fortune. After a glass or two of bubbly, we were both loosening up.

“Ooh, that’s stunning on you,” Tabitha said to me, eyeing a pale-blue, off-the-shoulder gown that Valerie insisted would be perfect with my skin color.

“Thank you,” I said, grabbing a glance at the price tag. For $2,400, it
should
be stunning. At Tabitha’s insistence, I tried on everything Valerie had for me: elegant wide-legged pants, a body-skimming silver dress, and blue suede stilettos. I couldn’t help but do the math in the dressing room while Valerie’s assistant returned with more champagne. I had just tried on $37,000’s worth of clothes.

As I modeled a beaded blue chiffon blouse with exquisite ruching in the dressing room, Tabitha noticed my bracelet. Before I knew it, she was holding my wrist up to the light, examining it.

“What an unusual bracelet,” she said, twisting it on my wrist. “Understated but dazzling. Is it platinum?”

“Yes,” I said. I had forgotten about Nan’s bracelet. I was already used to wearing it.

“It’s so mysterious … just like you, Lisbeth,” she said, smiling.

“Honestly, dear, I don’t try to be,” I replied.

“I know. You just are,” she said and gave me a hug. I was growing to like Tabitha, despite the strangeness of her mood swings and insecurity. Somehow, she unequivocally accepted me for whoever I was. Like a child, she seemed naive to ulterior motives. We had truly developed a friendship. The mysteries about her mom, her loneliness, made me want to take care of her.

Valerie was over-the-top with enthusiasm for a lilac dress that she had given Tabitha to try on, but I had my doubts. When Tabitha came out wearing it, I could see that it was totally wrong for her. It wasn’t that she couldn’t wear the color, it just wasn’t her shade. It’s interesting to me how often people don’t know their colors. I guess I had consumed enough champagne and was comfortable enough around Tabitha that my guard was down. For some reason, I started blurting out my opinion on everything.

“It’s a lovely dress, but perhaps you should reconsider whether it’s right for you,” I said, assuming I was out of earshot of Valerie. Tabitha looked at me with surprise. It seemed as though she was disturbed that anyone could doubt Valerie, which would explain some of the less-sophisticated choices Tabitha wore in the photos on the gossip blogs.

“What do you mean?” After another sip of champagne, I figured I might as well go for it. “Lilac isn’t really your color, and the dress cuts you right across the bust, a very unflattering silhouette,” I concluded. When an alarmed look crossed Tabitha’s face, I realized that Valerie was standing right behind me, and I regretted my words immediately.

I turned to Valerie to apologize. “I am
terribly
sorry. I’m sure you know better,” I said and braced myself for a dressing down. Valerie seemed to be trying to regroup. It dawned on me that if Tabitha had a personal shopper since she was ten, and her mother hadn’t been around, she may not have thought about her look independently for a long time. Valerie was her only support, her trusted advisor, and I certainly hadn’t intended to interfere. I watched as Valerie put on her cherished glasses and examined the dress again.

“She’s right, Tabitha,” Valerie said after a moment. “I’m not sure why I never saw that before.” Tabitha brightened. “Your friend Lisbeth is quite astute,” she continued. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

“Well, do you mind me adding?” I waited for the nod from Valerie. “You might try mixing and matching a bit more, like this Dolce and Gabbana blouse with this piece,” I said, grabbing a vintage skirt from a nearby table that was part of a window display they were putting together. I couldn’t believe I was acting like such an expert and they were listening to me. It was so much fun to get my hands on these clothes and play with them.

“It’s nice to see you with such an intelligent and sensitive friend,” Valerie said to Tabitha. “And she has such a terrific sense of design.” Tabitha glowed instinctively, as if she had been singled out herself.

“You do have the most incredible taste,” Tabitha said, relieved that Valerie had given me the seal of approval. “You just see stuff and put it together. No wonder your fashion blog is so incredible.”

“Fashion blog?” Valerie asked.

“Yes, Valerie, Lisbeth is that Shades of Limelight blog,” Tabitha said. “Isak Guerrere loves it.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t heard of that one, but I have to admit I’m a bit of a Luddite,” she said. “I will
definitely
look it up.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“And I’ll make a note to the marketing department to send you some samples to review,” she said and scribbled herself a note. “You never know, they may even ask you to consult for us.”

Consult? Me? Hmmm, I could only hope.

Moments later, Tabitha strutted in front of the mirror in a jade-green romper with knee-high boots. “So, which ones are you getting?” she asked, looking at her hips in the mirror. “You absolutely
have
to get the silver dress. I’m not letting you leave the store without it.”

“I’m not sure,” I said, trying to think of any excuse she might believe other than ‘I only have thirty-seven dollars in my purse, and my credit cards couldn’t pay for this even if they weren’t maxed out.’ My skin flushed, embarrassed that window-shopping wasn’t going to cut it any longer.

“And you absolutely
have
to have those shoes.”

When Valerie returned for Tabitha’s clothes, Tabitha said simply, “I’ll take them all, except the lilac dress of course,” and gave me a nod.

Then Valerie turned to me, awaiting my choices. I was tongue-tied. They expected an answer.

“Lisbeth will take the silver dress and the leopard heels,” Tabitha jumped in.

Valerie quickly whisked the dress and shoes out of my dressing room and took them to the counter. Tabitha changed back into her clothes, and we walked over to the counter to pay.

How would I get out of this? I struggled for the barest hint of a plan. I put my bag on the counter and began digging through it.

“It was here a moment ago,” I said, just loud enough that Tabitha could hear. Then I gave Tabitha a desperate look. “Shoot,” I said, rifling through my bag. “It’s gone!” Valerie wasn’t sure what was happening. But she registered my alarm. “I can’t find my wallet!” I said.

“Did you misplace it somewhere here?” Valerie asked.

“I wouldn’t think so,” I said, feigning distress. “I’m sure I had it earlier.” I was getting so worked up, even I thought I might manage to burst out in tears.

“Are you okay?” Tabitha asked.

“Do you think it could have been stolen?” Valerie asked.

“I just don’t know,” I said. “It’s not about the money or the cards. It’s that the wallet was a gift.” Meanwhile, I had been digging in my bag so long, I couldn’t help actually coming across my wallet, but I kept that to myself.

“Well, let me call Security immediately,” Valerie said. She turned to pick up a phone nearby.

“I’m so embarrassed. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,” I said. “I was certain I took it this morning, but maybe I left my wallet at home when I changed handbags. Or did I drop it at the studio? No need to bother Security.”

“I’ll call Mocha now to check with the studio,” Tabitha said.

“It’s not a problem, dear. Security will be here in a moment. Meanwhile, Erica…? Please check everywhere,” Valerie said, and Erica, her assistant, began assiduously checking every corner of the dressing area for a wallet she’d never find.

“Perhaps it would be best if you wouldn’t mind holding these, and I’ll just come back later.”

“Absolutely,” Valerie said. Ah, finally, my plan worked. No harm, no foul.

“No, no, don’t worry,” Tabitha insisted matter-of-factly. “Just add her things to my tab.” Ugh, that was considerably worse.

“Oh no, you shouldn’t,” I said, yanking the shoes and the silver dress away from the counter.

Tabitha shrugged. “It’s really no big deal.” Valerie reached out her hands for the dress and shoes. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. After a few agonizing seconds, I handed them over. It was so unfair—two against one.

“I promise to pay you back,” I said and bit my tongue, literally, wishing I could swallow those words as soon as they left my mouth. Only someone without money worries about her friend buying her something when she doesn’t have the cash to pay for it. Wealthy people simply don’t worry about such things. I had outed myself. What a mess. Tabitha regarded me with concern. I didn’t see a way out of this. I summoned my saddest face, hoping to distract her.

“Lisbeth, it’s okay. I’m sure we’ll find your wallet,” she said. “And if I can’t buy my friends something, what good is all the money? I’m sure you’ll return the favor someday,” she said.

“Valerie, ring them up.”

“You simply don’t have to,” I said.

“Don’t be silly,” Tabitha said, “it’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing,
I thought
. It’s five thousand dollars.

35

With my wallet charade behind me, Tabitha and I could both relax. Tabitha seemed to forget my faux pas immediately, no longer self-conscious that I wasn’t buying anything. Now she could get down to seriously splashing the cash on Fifth Ave.

During this shopathon with Tabitha, I discovered an aspect of shopping I never knew existed—shoptailing—the art of shopping while partaking of numerous cocktails. Forget
Breakfast at Tiffany’s—
think
Champagne at Versace.
Barneys was just the beginning. Leave it to Tabitha to discover how willing merchants were to ply their clients with champagne and martinis to lubricate their shopping desires. And we’re not talking about your standard Jersey drunken mall crawl. Tabitha threw herself into such a frenzy of buying and drinking that surely she would wake up from a shopping coma at some point wondering why she bought all of this stuff. On the other hand, her closet was likely already overflowing with tons of purchases that she wouldn’t have a clue where or why she bought.

I smiled and declined to imbibe. Besides, I had found a better way to get high. As we waltzed through Fendi and Cartier, then Prada and Gucci, I stopped worrying about my worthless credit card. I couldn’t even buy what the shopgirls were wearing, but I could steal pure nirvana under the bright lights of Fifth Avenue’s impressive shops.

I sauntered through the artfully displayed stacks of clothing, each item an example of the world’s most incredible designers and craftspeople. The entire history of Western civilization sewn into every stitch, polished into every jewel, filling up every room.

I put on an air, poised and aloof like a discerning collector who deigned not stoop to purchase. These were places “where nothing bad could happen to you,” as Audrey said in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s,
the sure cure for the mean reds, the evil yellows, the blues, and everything else that made you pull out your hair. Even the haughty mannequins seemed like approving gatekeepers.

Judging by these stores, the world was an intelligent, exquisitely tasteful place, with no detail too small to refine. Here, designers and craftspeople infused mere everyday garments—a shirt, a skirt, a pair of flats—with creativity and perfection. While my friend Tabitha bought the store wholesale and pounded back the cocktails, I floated in therapeutic retail bliss. No one knew my wallet was empty but me.

The D&G Fifth Avenue store was a wonder. Shop clerks arranged even the hangers an equal distance apart. I learned from Jess how bold and wonderfully structured their clothes were, and I had also posted a little blog entry on their silk Le Smoking blouse. A pair of beige stiletto peep-toes shot through with chocolate brown and gold piping fascinated me. With all of my Designer X couture, shoes were the missing element we were still looking for.

Tabitha noticed the store manager talking to her staff as we were preparing to leave. A slightly older woman, better dressed, joined them. They were chatting away in hushed tones.

“Lisbeth, this is so weird,” she said. “But I think they’re talking about you.” Immediately, I became paranoid.

“Why on earth would they?” I said, pretending nonchalance.

Tabitha giggled. She found this amusing, I assumed, because usually they would be talking about her—after all, she was the celebrity.

“I think they think you’re reviewing their store,” she whispered.

“Why? I mean, how could they…?”

“You don’t have any idea, do you? Don’t you realize your pix have been reposted everywhere? My fans even ask about you, and they’re like twelve.” She smiled so broadly, I could tell that she felt the association with my blog gave her special props. If anyone knew what a schlumpy nobody from South End I was, they’d change their mind instantly.