On a whim, she went into Zara, thinking she might buy herself a dress for dinner this evening. It was the biggestZara she’d ever seen, taking up a whole block of the Praça Dom Pedro. Inside, the store had taken its design inspiration from the historic building in which it was housed. Everything was beautifully laid out– clothes folded in displays, ranges of dresses hanging in tidy alcoves and perfectly put-together outfits adorning mannequins.
Rebecca paused, trying to decide what she wanted. They were going out tonight to meet some of Felipe’s friends in a bar before going on to dinner. She wanted something a bit… a bit more what? A bit smarter, but still casual. A bit more colourful but not too bright. A bit nicer, but not looking like she was trying too hard– look what had happened last time she’d tried that.
Realising she was standing in the middle of the floor like a rabbit in the headlights, she moved to a rack of dresses and pushed her way through the hangers. The more she sorted, the more paralysed she became. She simply didn’t have a clue. There was a crocheted cream dress which was very short– would that suit her? What would she wear under it? Or there was a green pattern-print flowing midi dress– was green her colour? Alternatively, there was a brown halter-neck long A-line dress, which she quite liked, but then brown? Wasn’t that the colour UPS delivery drivers wore? Wasn’t it a bit of a non-colour? She really liked the plain sleeveless denim dress, fitted on top with a skater-style skirt– but was it too plain and a bit dull?
For God’s sake, get a grip,she told herself, irritated by her own indecision. She grabbed several dresses and headed to the fitting room.
In the cubicle next door, she could hear two English girls.
‘That is fab! Yes. It really suits you.’
‘Yes, but does it make my boobs look too saggy?’
‘Tit tape will sort that out.’
There was quiet next door apart from the rustle of someone changing as Rebecca stripped off her shorts and T-shirt andpulled on the first dress. The bra would have to go– it didn’t work with the neckline. She pulled a face at herself. Brown. Was that really dull? And without the bra her nipples would show.
She took off the dress and tried on the crochet one. It fitted snugly and she turned three-sixty in the mirror trying to look at herself.
‘Oh God, no,’ came the voice from next door.
The other girl burst into giggles. ‘FFS, my stomach looks like a well-stuffed pudding.’
‘Sorry, babe, not flattering at all. Try the blue one on.’
Rebecca studied herself. Some people had face blindness– maybe she had fashion blindness.
She wished she dared ask one of the two girls for their opinion, but they were obviously such a tight-knit pair, she didn’t want to interrupt. She caught her lip in her teeth and turned again to study her figure from the side. Did it look okay? In the end, it was the scratchy label at the neck that decided her and she quickly peeled the dress off. She took the green patterned dress from its hanger and undid the buttons and was about to step into the satin fabric when she stopped. This was a waste of time. She was only going to end up making a complete tit of herself like she had at the ball. It was far better to be comfortable and not try to be something she wasn’t. She wasn’t a dress girl– she’d always been a tomboy.Stick with what you know, she told herself, dressing quickly and leaving the cubicle.
As she did, she bumped into one of the girls from the cubicle next door.
‘Sorry,’ she said automatically.
‘No, it was me. Not looking where I was going. Oh, are you buying that?’ She pointed to the crochet dress. ‘What size is it?’
Rebecca held up the label.
‘Can I take it off you? It’s exactly what my mate was looking for. What are you buying?’
Rebecca lifted her shoulders in defeat. ‘Nothing. I’m just not sure.’
The other girl grabbed the dresses from her. ‘Really? Not the green? That’s so cute. But this? Come on.’ She held up the brown satin. ‘You’re tall; this must look amazing.’
‘Yes, but it’s brown.’ Rebecca looked again at the silky fabric, now noticing that the colour had greater depth in this light.
‘Chestnut, sweetie. Chestnut. And look at that neckline.’
‘Yeah but I haven’t got the right bra.’
‘Who needs a bra in this weather?’
‘I just wasn’t sure.’ Rebecca hated sounding so wet. She wasn’t wet, but clothes weren’t her thing.
‘Let’s have a look. Amy! I’ve got that dress for you and I’m doing a bit of on-the-hoof styling.’
The other girl peered around the door of her cubicle. ‘What are you like, Hannah? Oh yes, the crochet dress. Yes, please.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Hannah, holding the brown– no,chestnut– dress up against Rebecca.
