This happened circa 1992, I wrote this in 2002…

It was two years later. Saks. Denver, Colorado. My sister was visiting so we were buying me makeup again. This time I was aware that I suck so I was intimidated to a degree.

The makeup artist asked me questions and of course, I had no idea what she was talking about. I shrugged and my sister answered them. Pretty soon the counter person just spokes directly to my sister and they decorated me like a mannequin.

(swearing below the break)

I keep quiet so as not to disturb their concentration while they debated various approaches to fixing me. Same time, I tried not to laugh because they are fussing with colors and stuff on my face and saying trendy things which is very funny if you are me.

We finished and I got my bag of makeup which I would probably never wear (except the lipstick, which I would put on crooked). I looked good. I looked very damned good, and everyone better enjoy because I did not think it would happen again.

We walked 5 feet and stood outside the Armani boutique that was inside the store so my sister could scan. A Pisces, this is what she does. She shops by vibe and this time she decides that we should “enter”. That’s what she calls it too. “Let’s enter,” she says.  I followed her into the store like a puppy and she pulled a jacket from the rack.

“Put this on.”

I put it on and waited for her verdict.

“That’s good. No, that’s great. That looks great on you. You have to buy that,” she said.

I looked at the price tag – $275. Yikes!

“It’s too much money,” I said. The salesman approached. Uh oh.

He recognized my sister as the person to talk to. This was obvious by her clothing. I was wearing her clothing, otherwise she refused to be seen with me, and no I had on makeup on but I guessed people could still tell.

“That looks good on her,’ he said.

“Yeah. I’m trying to get her to buy it.”

“I think she should have it too. I’ll tell you what. How much is it?” he asked.

“$275 and it’s worth it. Look how it looks on her.”

“It is a nice piece and it does look really good on her. How about I sell to her for $50?” he asked.

I bought the jacket, we thanked him and left.

“Well someone likes you anyway. He did that because you’re Italian.”

“You think?”

“Fuck yes. All day long he sells that jacket to skinny blondes and finally he sees someone who something actually looks right on. He knows the clothes he sells. He had to give to you, it was yours.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“That was a huge score.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Damn you. You know how much I shop.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

“I shop every day and no one gives me shit. Okay. They give a pin or some shit after I spend $20,000, and I don’t even wear fucking jewelry. Here you come. You’ve never been in here before and you won’t be back unless I take you. You don’t know shit about clothes and the fucking guy gives you a jacket.”

“He didn’t give it to me. He charged me 50 dollars.”

“Elsa. He gave you the fucking jacket, okay? You don’t even know what you have in that bag, and that’s not the first time I’ve seen you do that. You know what I think? I think we should go back to the make-up counter and tell them you just bought that jacket for 50 bucks. That’ll show those bitches that think you’re stupid. You are stupid, but no one knows how to do that but you. Get a free jacket.  I don’t know. I think that is at least as good a trick as being able to put color on a face. Not that I don’t think you should learn how to do it.”

“I know, I know. I’ve heard this.”

“C’mon. Let’s go find the rest of what you’re going to wear with your jacket. I have to get Mowgli dressed for her next kill. I hope you appreciate this.”

“I do! I do appreciate it.”