Ah. This would do. An article about how to get the look of a celebrity on a budget. I didn’t care about the money, but this would tell me how an average person could look like a style icon. I wanted to look good, and I couldn’t go there looking like I’d stepped out of the 1950s.
Okay. Clearly everyone wears jeans to everything. I had three pairs, but would any of them do? One of them still had the tags on, but the waist was as high as my rib cage and the bottoms as wide as a bell. Yeah, those wouldn’t work. In another fifty years, maybe. One of my others was covered in grass stains and dirt splotches. Those wouldn’t do. Only one pair remained.
I lifted my much-loved, favorite pair of jeans. Actually, I’d been wearing them since 1980. The knees were worn through and one of the back pockets had ripped off…Wait a second. I flipped a few pages back in the magazine. Bingo. Looked like celebrities did that on purpose. Or they paid big money for someone else to do it for them. My jeans were perfect. And it only took a little over 30 years to get them that way.
Okay. Now for the top.
Judging by the photos, it looked like anything was fine as long as it was layered upon other layers of anything and everything—shirts, tank tops, T-shirts, jackets, blazers, scarves…whatever. Okay. I could do that.
I returned to my armoire and rummaged through the drawers. Some of Mother’s scarves would look really cool, kind of vintage, with my denim jacket. That and a couple of those snug T-shirts I ordered from The Gap, and I'd be fine.
Maybe some hot pink layered over lime green. I pulled the tops over my head and freed my thick braid. I slipped my arms inside my jacket and looked in the mirror. Yep. That would work.
Now, a colorful plaid scarf draped and tied just like in the picture. Perfect.
I twisted my hair up in my signature style and clipped as much of it as I could fit into the over-sized claw. Some lip gloss and mascara, and I looked like any girl fresh off a college campus.
I stopped by the bathroom on the way out of the tower and glanced in the bigger mirror. I looked like I'd leapt off one of the pages of that magazine. I raced downstairs and made it just in time before the dishwasher repairman left. I’d catch a ride to town with him, as long as Gretta didn’t see me. Hopefully Pepper would bring me home. I needed to see about getting a drivers license and a vehicle. Enough was enough.
Stan was just coming out of the kitchen when I reached the bottom of the staircase. I motioned for him to step into the hallway with me. “Hey, you mind giving me a lift into town when you leave?”
Stan shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I'll be leaving in about a minute. You ready?”
“Ready as I'll ever be.” I hitched my Coach bag up onto my shoulder and tipped my head toward the door. “I'll just be waiting in your car.”
“Works for me.” Stan smiled and looked me over.
Gross.
I made my way to the green Honda out front. Far as I knew, Gretta hadn’t seen me. As long as I made it back before dusk, I'd be fine. I slipped into the passenger seat and flipped down the visor so I could check my makeup. All looked well. Stan slipped in the driver’s side and started the car. “So where you headed?”
“You could just drop me off at Starbucks on Main. I'm meeting some friends.”
“Glad to hear it. You keep to yourself too much. You need to get out more.”
“So they say.” I chuckled.
The car inched up to the curb in front of the Starbucks, and I got out. I turned to wave, but he was already gone. Okay. So much for chivalry. Guess that mostly died out a long time ago.
I took a deep breath and approached the door. It opened with a jingle as customers exited with their steaming cups. I stepped through the threshold and got walloped in the face with a heady aroma unlike anything I’d ever experienced. We had coffee at the castle, but nothing could have prepared me for the decadence of the smell that overwhelmed the tiny space. Nothing smelled like a Starbucks, or so they said on television. They were right. I could practically feel caffeine jitters just from breathing the air.
Pepper gasped. She sat in a cluster of comfy chairs with three other girls who looked just like her. “There she is. It's Rapunzel.”
I should have maybe thought about using a different name, what with the fairy tale and all, but it was too late for that.
“Hey, Rapunzel. So glad you could join us. It’s good to meet you.” A pretty redhead stuck out her hand.
“Hey guys. Thanks for inviting me. I don't get out much, due to taking care of my aunt. Her sister’s in town, too. It’s nice to step out for a change.” A little white lie never hurt anyone. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to ease myself in or pull back if I got uncomfortable. I took a seat between Pepper and a raven-haired girl in a ponytail and athletic gear. She looked like she’d just come from a yoga class.