The Perfume Collector(75)

‘Fine.’ Mallory turned to face her. ‘Then for the next few days, it won’t be. I promise, I won’t bring it up again.’



Just after breakfast, the two of them headed to Galeries Lafayette on Boulevard Haussmann. Although not a keen shopper, Grace enjoyed the comfort of being with Mallory again. And she couldn’t help but be in awe of the dramatic golden-domed interior of the place; floor after floor of spiralling boutiques that sent Mallory into a series of delighted squeals as soon as they arrived.

Mallory darted from one counter to another with the focused determination of a pirate looting an exotic port, and Grace trailed behind her, carrying her ever-increasing bags. Normally, a day spent shopping would’ve sent her running. But for once the crowds didn’t irritate her, possibly because it took real concentration for her to pick up anyone else’s conversation; she felt protected by her own foreignness. And Mallory’s gusto was such that she barely noticed that Grace was lagging behind. They moved with methodical speed from hats to gloves to scarves to lingerie and so on up the winding floors, Mallory debating the merits of each purchase in an ongoing conversation of her own.

‘Too coy?’ she asked, adjusting the veil of a tiny ‘fascinator’ hat, featuring a cluster of enormous black silk roses. ‘Or simply bizarre?’

Before Grace could answer, Mallory replaced it with an even more extreme version featuring three rather obscene organza calla lilies. She examined her reflection. ‘Don’t you find that the line between something being ravishing and revolting is dangerously close? Sometimes something is so ugly, it becomes amazing. Which do you think this is?’

Grace shook her head. ‘Not sure. What would you wear it with?’

‘What wouldn’t I wear it with!’ Mallory turned to inspect her profile. ‘Do you think those fuzzy yellow stamens are just the tinsiest bit suggestive?’

‘Only if you have a lewd imagination.’

Mallory shot her a look. ‘So I’ll take that as a yes. Oh, Gracie,’ she sighed. ‘I’m in two minds about this one. If one’s going to make a statement, one might as well have fuzzy stamens, don’t you think?’

‘What statement are you trying to make, Mal?’

They caught each other’s eye and laughed.

‘You’ll see.’ Mallory took the hat off. ‘We’ll get back to London and fuzzy stamens will be all the rage and I’ll have you to blame for missing the boat!’

‘I’m not stopping you. Buy two – three if you like!’

On the next floor up, they spent almost an hour in the lingerie department.

‘Gracie, look.’ Mallory ran her hand through the sheer silky chiffon of a delicately embroidered nightdress. ‘Oh, what heaven! Geoffrey doesn’t deserve it but I do.’

The saleswoman at the lingerie counter was only too pleased to help each of them to select several pairs of beautiful silk stockings, and advise them on the newest designs of cantilevered girdles and brassieres. ‘These are essentials,’ Mallory insisted, piling another two satin slips on the counter for the saleswoman to ring up.

‘You said that about the gloves and the hats too.’

‘And I’m right.’ Mallory thrust her chin in the air. ‘One cannot go about the business of being a woman without the proper equipment.’

Eventually, after they’d had a restorative lunch of salade niçoise and black coffee in the rooftop restaurant, they made it as far as the women’s dress department. There they browsed slowly through the collections, in a kind of awed, reverent silence. The exaggerated full skirts, crinoline petticoats and impossibly nipped-in waists of the Paris fashions were more daringly tailored than those in England; fashioned from yards of luxurious moiré silk, faille and taffeta in bold, saturated colours. It was the kind of excessive abundance of lavish beauty that London had been missing since the war.

‘I think I’m going to faint!’ Mallory whispered to her, holding up a marine blue chiffon evening dress.

Gingerly, Grace felt the gauzy fabric.

It was beautiful.

Mallory’s eyes began to well up. ‘I have to try it on,’ she sighed, shaking her head hopelessly. ‘I have to try them all on!’

And with the help of a seasoned shop assistant, Mallory piled five or six dresses into a changing room.

Grace continued to walk through the racks on her own. She wished she could be like Mallory and shop with enthusiasm.

Certainly her clothes were dull and dated. What’s more, she didn’t even like them. Yet the wide skirts, embellished with beads and rich embroidery, all in bright peacock colours for the upcoming summer season, seemed almost garish.