Wrong or right, the confidence quickly melted when she came to pay. The sales assistant—Philippa, according to her name tag—looked doubtfully over the charcoal trouser suit, the burgundy blazer. She lifted one brightly coloured top after another only to drop them as she looked Millie up and down. Then beckoned to a young man at the far end of the glass counter.
A small seed of panic sprouted inside Millie.
The man—his name tag said Gavin—wore the kind of trendy clothes only a gay man could pull off. Philippa nodded towards Millie, then showed him the clothes.
“You weren’t planning to wear this, were you?” Gavin held up the tailored burgundy suit.
“Yes.”
“Eww yich.” He said melodramatically.
“If they are ‘eww yich,’ then why do you sell them?”
“It’s not the clothes themselves, just on you they’re…” He shookhis head.
“Fine.” She put her credit card back in her wallet. Plenty of other shops would be happy to take her money without insulting her. After Henry, she was not taking any more negative comments about her figure. She pushed her arm into the loop of her shoulder bag.
“Please don’t take it the wrong way,” Philippa said. “It’s just that these clothes are totally wrong for you. Gavin and I are taking a course in colour consultancy. Believe me, he is brilliant.”
“We would love to give you a colour analysis,” Gavin said.
Millie started walking out, but Gavin came round the counter and followed her. “On us, please, and we’ll recommend the right clothes for you to buy.”
Millie shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t really have the time.” It was a lie, but she didn’t feel like giving her free day up so Gavin and Philippa could point outher flaws.
“Please.” Philippa came to join them with a large cardboard diagram of a colour chart. “It would really help us for our course portfolio. We don’t get many people with your complexion. You’d be helping us. Please?”
It was hard to disappoint Philippa. So, a few minutes later, Millie found herself in a swivel chair opposite a huge mirror with spotlights all around it.
“You are a ‘spring’ palette.” Philippa watched Millie in the mirror.
No, I’m a fool who can’t say no.
“Your hair is a soft light brown, and with your skin, see this?” Philippa laid the burgundy suit against her. “Burgundy overwhelms you; it makes your hair look dull.”
“You’ve picked three dark tops”—Gavin tried some of her other choices under the light—“which drain your complexion of colour completely. See? If you’re tired, olive green gives you dark circles and a double chin.”
She hated to admit it, but they were right.
“Now see the difference.”
Gavin tried a pastel-green fabric, draping it around her face, and Millie caught her breath at the difference.
“This lights you up.” He tried lavender and then a soft yellow.
“Wow,” said Philippa clapping her hands together. “It’s like a different face. You’re really pretty,you know.”
As Gavin went around choosing clothes for her to try, Millie looked at her face in the mirror like it was a stranger. A girl with shining eyes and a healthy colour.Notbeige now!
Two hours later, Millie left the department store with several bags of clothes in pink champagne, silver grey, periwinkle, mint, sky blue and peach. Wearing a new white-and-yellow floral skirt and soft primrose blouse, she felt like skipping and almost walked into a woman coming out of Vidal Sassoon.
On a whim, she decided to geta haircut.
The pretty graduated bob they gave her showed off the golden highlights from her sunny walks. She loved the soft side fringe that framed her face. And now that her long neck was exposed, she could really wear danglyearrings.
She kept swinging her head this way and that to feel the bounce in her hair as she made her way back to the ferry. Several men gave her admiring looks.
Me?She couldn’t stop smiling.Yes, me. This is me. The new me.
