“No, Blake has style.” Caroline swallows and looks down at her feet. “He dresses nicely for work, but has his own style outside of work. That’s what I need.”
“I understand that,” I say. “Shall we? I can drive.”
Out on the street, Caroline appraises my ten-year-old Honda before getting in the passenger side. She brushes some lint off her skirt and fidgets in her seat. “Are you from Atlanta?” she asks.
“Born and raised. You?”
“Yep.”
I pause, and then decide to continue the small talk. If I can learn more about who she is, it’ll be easier to tailor a wardrobe to her personal tastes. “Your aunt told me you’re twenty-five. I’m a year younger. Where did you go to school?”
“Oh…” She waves her hand around vaguely. “I went to a bunch of private schools and then Dartmouth for college.”
“Oh. Did you meet your boyfriend there?”
She laughs nervously. “He went to art school in New York.” She nods her head dismissively. It’s strange how Caroline is a combination of insecurity and privilege. I can tell she’s holding something back about her boyfriend.
“Art school? That’s really cool. My brother lives in New York. I can see the draw.”
She shrugs. She’s not too talkative, this one.
I continue. “So now your boyfriend works for your dad?”
“My dad pays well.”
“Ahh, I see.”
And that’s that. The ride is silent once again. A few minutes before we arrive, I tell her, “So, we’re going to take you to my favorite vintage store in Little Five Points.”
She seems to perk up. “I’ve never been down there…to Little Five Points.”
How is that possible? Has she lived in Atlanta her whole life and never ventured to the East side, where the majority of people our age like to hang out? The restaurants, clubs, and stores in that area are like a rite of passage for people growing up in Atlanta. There’s energy and excitement there. I’m getting the picture that Caroline’s sheltered life is pretty much consumed by her father’s company and nothing else.
“You’re gonna love Little Five Points. It’s really cool.” I turn the music up a little and notice that she’s bobbing her head to Band of Horses.
“I like this,” she says. “I’m into the faster, harder stuff usually, but this is good.”
I didn’t peg her for the faster, harder music lover, but I’ve learned in my line of work not to judge a book by its cover. And Caroline is already proving to be one of my most complex clients to date. Most of my clients are older and looking for someone to put together a wardrobe they have in mind, for a lifestyle they already have. That means a lot of “Bloomies.” I still love working with these women, but working with Caroline will be the challenge I’ve been waiting for. Essentially, I get to teach her how to dress like a young woman, and I get to share my own style influences with her. So, we’re going to hit the stores I shop at for myself.
When we arrive at Rag-O-Rama, Caroline says, “Is this a secondhand store?” She scrunches up her nose.
“It’s vintage,” I say. “There’s definitely some junk, but you can also find some really nice 50/50 vintage tees and cool belts and stuff like that. We can get you some denim somewhere else, but this is a good start to see what you’re attracted to.”
She doesn’t move from her spot outside the store. “But people have already worn this stuff, right?”
“Just come on.” I pull her by the hand.
Inside the store, her eyes light up at a pair of knee-high, red vinyl boots on display.
“Do you like those?”
“No,” she says firmly.
Okay, then.
“Let’s look over here.” I move toward an accessory rack. “This leather purse is a steal. I think it’d be nice to add some brown leather to your black palette. And this belt is fantastic. Your fair skin and red hair would look amazing with a splash of color,” I say, pointing out its turquoise buckle. “We can edge it up with some distressed denim.”
She starts to see where I’m going with everything. I grab a few pieces and throw them into a shopping basket, and then take her to the front counter where there are sunglasses on display.
