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“Hell, yes.”
“I need something new to wear tonight, and so do you,” Xander announced after our spa treatment and lunch.
“You haven’t even seen what I have at home or unpacked. Trust me, I have plenty of things to wear.”
“Okay, then we shop for fun.”
After calling Laurence, he took the list of shops I learned about at work. Our first shop was for shoes. Xander walked in and picked up four pairs before we passed the first display. “S’il vous, plait.” He gave his shoe size in French.
“Of course you have your sizes already planned.”
“You betcha,” he said, impersonating my mom’s Wisconsin twang.
I hit his arm playfully.
“You know I love Agata. She’s my mom, too.”
He tried them on and chose one. “Merci.”
We decided on three pairs of heels and a low-cut boot, before walking out of the shop. I texted Laurence and glanced around. There was a top hat on the side of a building ahead.
“Let’s have a look.” Xander was already walking towards it, and I followed. The sign read, “Hayden’s Fou de Toi,” which meant crazy about you in English. It was his first shop that catered more to his whimsical, gothic wear, not his successful glamour style that made him a big hit. I’d only seen the shop online, and when we got to it, it was a kaleidoscope of colors with oddly shaped chairs and couches you’d imagine if invited for tea through the looking glass.
“Let’s shop here.” Xander had his hand on the door, but I stopped him.
“I don’t want to shop there.” Going to try on his clothes felt intimate, like seeking him out with interest.
Xander scoffed. “But his shop is the only one I know that makes clothes for every body shape. And I feel it is a duty as a designer to support progress.” His tone was downright smug.
I rolled my eyes. We both knew he just wanted an excuse, but I was curious, too, so we walked in. The first rack we passed had a “Fou de Toi”T-shirt emblazoned on it. 200 Euros? No thanks.
“Maybe it’s for charity?” Xander offered.
I asked in French, and delighted, Xander beamed at me. Asking questions was something I had mastered. The shopkeeper nodded and showed us the sign, showing it was to raise money for clean water. Okay. I decided to buy one.
We walked two steps before Xander approached a woman standing beside a mirror. He motioned to the dress she wore. “I saw Lora Statom wear that dress in Vogue.” Just hearing Lora’s name brought several other customers to the dress, looking for their sizes. They were tourists like us. In no time, he had clothes picked out for other customers before he picked out a black latex bodycon dress for me to try on.
“I should work on commission,” he said and laughed. He chose silver and black spandex shirts and a leather jumpsuit. I chose a few dresses. We both brought the clothes back to the changing room. The latex dress molded to my body like it was poured onto my skin.
I walked out and stood in awe before the mirror.
“Insanely hot,” Xander drawled, and ran his hands over my hips. “You’re on fire in this dress. Oui, s’il vous plait. So hot.”
“I feel naked.”
“That’s a good thing.” Xander smiled at the shop manager, who nodded in agreement. “These dresses are made for you.”
“But Hayden already sent over a dress that looks like this one.” I covered my mouth, but it was too late.
Xander’s eyes widened, and he grinned like the Cheshire cat. “You kept that quiet.”
“Hayden gave me the dress after the show, and then he sent some other clothes he thought I’d like. I’m returning them.”
Xander huffed. “Of course you are. But are you still getting to work with him at least?”
“I’ve been invited to work his fashion shoot for Formula One.”
“You mean in Monaco, for the promotion of Titan?” Xander enthused.
