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“Hello, I’m Florian.” In the shop doorway, Florian is muscled like a comic strip superhero. He wears a hi-vis vest over inked and oiled muscles. “And this is my friend Pearson.” Pearson is dark-haired and sharp-eyed, and neat, in a black sweater and skinny pants.
Pearson smiles, wide, looking straight at me. “You must be the gorgeous Indi. Isn’t she beautiful, Florian?”
“I… ”
Florian smiles like he’s about to cut a cake. “We’re here to style and dress you.”
“What? I’m nowhere near ready.”
“Not a problem, gorgeous,” Pearson twinkles. “We are here to serve and wait. We’re set to be here all day, just so that we’re ready the moment you are.”
Florian says, “Could I take literally one minute from you though, Indi, please, so I can get the measurements of your loveliness?” He steps around to our side of the counter with a tape measure.
I stand. “Arms out,” Florian tells me, “just like an angel.” His smile is warm.
Florian measures me in a flash of swift and efficient moves, reciting the numbers all as, “lovely,” “heavenly,” or, “fabulous” inches.
Pearson stands to one side, taking notes with a tablet.
“All done,” Florian announces. “Tell us anytime you have a moment and we’ll show you some dresses. You give me wonderful ideas.”
“I bet I know what you’re thinking of, too.” Pearson nods and smiles. “Issey Miyake.”
They nod and say, “Pleats,” together.
Pearson adds, “Silver snake belt.”
“Jimmy Choos.” Florian smiles.
Ben leans on the counter.
“Can I get coffee for anybody?” His attention is fixed on Florian, flipping from his eyes down to… let’s say his silver belt buckle. We’ll leave it at that, shall we?
Florian has scooped some fabulous gowns out of a case. He holds up the hangars and twirls them. “Just give us an instant reaction, Indi? I’ll show you five dresses. Don’t think, just point at the two you like best.”
They’re all fantastic. I’d feel like a million dollars in any of them. When I nod at two of them, Florian and Pearson exchange a smile and a high-five.
“They will never fit me, though.”
Pearson smiles, shaking his head. “You haven’t seen us at work, my dear.”
Many cups of coffee later, it’s after eight and my eyes are sore, but I am finally ready to read the whole document through one last time. I have flutters in my stomach, fretting about the edits I had to make. I don’t know whether I’m more nervous about accidentally mangling some legal terms or about how Mr. Gray Eyes will react to the total makeover I’ve given to his document.
“Are we ready to be fabulous?”
Florian spent much of the afternoon in a backroom. Oddly, I didn’t see Ben around much, either.
But he comes out to close up the shop as I let Pearson lead me back into the big stockroom.
They’ve moved packing cases around to make a large three-sided cubicle. An office chair is jacked up high in the middle, and mirrors and lights are on the sides.
We try both of the dresses. We all agree immediately on the flowing, scalloped red pleated silk gown.
“Hold still.” Florian nips and pulls and stitches the lustrous fabric until he’s satisfied, then turns me around. He and Pearson grin and clap. I try to make for a mirror.
“We’re awfully pressed for time, sweetheart,” Pearson tells me.
He sits me in the chair with a sheet over me to keep the dress perfect, and he snips and primps my hair at lightning speed.
