When I Hired Couturiers

There are two closet dwellers in my closet who are my people. They have strong opinions on matters of most anything; sit in one spot all day and are shabby; believe they are icons; and have never brushed their teeth. They fancy themselves my personal stylists.

They are a girl and a boy--Ann and Teddy. Ann is raggedy and has worn the same exact dress with pinafore her entire life. Teddy, a bear, wears nothing. They are smallish, the size of a cat or young rabbit. They are cotton and synthetic. They’ve been with me since I was a girl, and I have no intention of letting them move someplace else, though some days I get really close to changing my mind on that.

We don’t always agree on style.

For example, what I think of as my cozy brown shirt, Ann calls ‘a potato-sack calamity’. But worse, she calls my UVA shirt ‘a blue-orange misfortune’.

“I’ll have you know ‘the misfortune’ is my UVA shirt,” I huffed at her once. “I’m a proud UVA Mom. Pride is not misfortune.”

“Pride didn’t make it into March Madness this year,” she told me.

Now you understand my situation.

At any rate, these two closet friends are my oldest friends, aside from my siblings, and have been with me through thick and thin. If only they didn’t have such a penchant for adding their two cents every morning as I dress for the day.

Recently I went into the closet to decide on an outfit. Ann spoke up before I could pull a hanger off the rod.

“My dear, I hate to interfere, but you know I love to. Can you look over in the far corner of the shirts and pull down the charming burgundy scoop neck? That little number looks darling on you. And with a pair of dangles off the ears—” then she kissed the air with glamour.

“I’m doing a Zoom call with colleagues. I don’t need to get dressed up.”

“Sunshine, today is the biggest day. You must dress up.”

“And why exactly?” I said, tapping my toe on the carpet impatiently.

“Dear, every day is the biggest day. The burgundy scoop, please?” Ann motioned to the hanging shirts with her hand as if she had a long, expensively manicured nail extended off her index finger, when in fact all she had was a round doll hand that looked like a baby mitten.

I privately growled and pulled down the burgundy shirt. “I’ll wear it, but I don’t see why all the fuss over a regular day. Sometimes my friends show up in workout clothes to these calls.”

“My little bug, you will gradually learn.”

This was when I got curious.

“So, why do you think you know what I should be wearing anyway?”

“Moi? I’m a fashionista. It’s my job.”

“Fashionista?? You’ve worn the same outfit your whole life.”

“I’ll have you know Anna Wintour has a personal fashion theme.”

“Anna Wintour has different outfits.”

This is when we agreed to disagree.

After this exchange I started to see Ann and Teddy decked out in various garb each time I walked into my closet. Did they think I was going to be swayed into thinking they were fashionistas now?

One day I went into the closet to grab a pair of shoes to run to the store. I kicked off my bedroom slippers and looked up to see Teddy with a pair of my underpants upside down on his head, his two ears sticking out of the legs.

“Teddy! What are doing?! That’s my underwear!”

“Underwear to you, but stylish head accoutrement to me,” he said, with French pronunciation for effect.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” I said, shaking my head. I glanced at the shoe rack. I had to get to the store quickly and back. This is when I noticed Ann.

“What on earth?” I said, dumbfounded.

“It’s a halter top. Very edgy,” she informed me, tipping her one eyebrow up. “You like?”

“It’s my swim goggles. Where did you find them?”

“Right here, love.” She pointed to a spot on the shelf near her striped legs. “Right where you left them.”

“You two. Next time I come in here, I want those things off and back where they belong.” Then I grabbed my shoes and left.

It went like this for days. By the weekend they were dressed for “the opera”. Teddy had draped necklaces around his neck. Ann made a gown from a scarf. They each took one shoe of my solitary pair of high heels and crammed both their feet in.

“You’re going to hop to the opera?” I asked.

“The opera is here,” Teddy said, pointing to his heart.

That fixed me to a stop. My sweet childhood pals. Why was I wrangling with them? They only meant well. I was going to try to be more flexible with their antics. Then Ann, who had something on her mind, spoke up.

“We must get you ready for the Gala.”

“What gala?”

“The Gala. The Met Gala.”

“What the heck is that?”

“It’s only the single most important fashion spectacle of the year.”

“Hmm.”

“We want to promote you.”

“Promote me??”

“Yes. For our fashion brand, Anne et Théodore.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding, love bug.”

This is when I burst out laughing, which wasn’t received too well but I couldn’t help it.

Anne et Théodore. Well, I had to give them credit. It wasn’t a bad name for a fashion brand. Okay then. I was game. Life is about the giggles.

“Very well. Dress me. I leave it up to you. I’ve been interviewing couturiers, so show me what you’ve got.”

Ann looked at Teddy and winked at him. He put his paw up to his mouth in gleeful astonishment.

“We just landed our first client, Teddy,” Ann whispered.

“Wait till she sees what we can do for her,” he whispered back.

Ann turned to me. “First, we need to schedule a consultation to measure you. Then we’ll need to interview you to get a feel for your style ambiance.”

We set up a meeting for measuring, which entailed me wrapping my own sewing tape measure around various parts of me and calling off the numbers. I also had to write down the measurements because my new couturiers didn’t know how to write. There is a bit of DIY when you hire Anne et Théodore.

During the interview to determine ambiance, we decided my ambiance was a mixture of boho, preppy, but mostly whatever was on-trend at Costco. It was determined I had little in the way of glam and would not be dressed as such. I opined that my tendency was towards understatement. Anne et Théodore corrected me and said my fashion oeuvre was, in fact, non-statement. I wasn’t sure if this was a fashion style or a dismissal, but who cared. I had an ambiance.

Every time I went into my closet-turned-atelier, I’d goad my Met Gala consultants on their progress. “Anything to show me yet?” I’d ask. “Not yet,” Ann would answer. “We’re in the concept phase. It’s very delicate. We need our creative space.” Then she’d shoo me with her manicured baby mitten.

Finally, one day it happened. I walked into my closet, and it was a complete wreck. The contents were strewn every which way and the hangers on the rods were either empty or dripping clothing off the ends. I gasped. Ann and Teddy looked up from the huddle they were in.

“What happened?! The atelier is in shambles!”

Ann put her mitten to her lips. “Shhh, my love. We are very close to presenting Ensemble de Amour !” Teddy was furiously wrangling with something between them that I couldn’t see. “Please wait on the bed and we’ll call for you shortly.”

I just want you to know that I knew this was as ridiculous as it seems, nevertheless I went to sit on the edge of the bed. I had agreed to this. Plus, there was no money-back guarantee.

“Honey bug,” Ann called from the closet, “We are ready for you!”

I walked in, stepping over my clothes laying in chaos on the floor. I looked straight at my old stuffed toys. “And I am ready for you,” I said, with a genuine investment in my words because that was how I felt. I was ready to connect in this hare-brained way with the folks who’d been with me most of my life. They were invested in me, and I knew this.

“Ensemble de Amour begins with the first phase laid out on this shelf here. You may dress now.”

I followed the directions given. It seemed my Gala outfit was a compilation of what I already owned, starting with the burgundy scoop neck shirt. I slipped numerous beaded bracelets onto my wrists and fixed the same scarf that served as a gown for the opera earlier around my neck like a huge ascot.

“And here is the second phase.” Ann pointed to a different shelf.

I began to load up on these items. A short summer skirt was pulled over my poinsettia Christmas leggings. My UVA shirt was tied around my waist like an apron. A down vest went on last.

“Finally,” Teddy instructed, “these.” He showed me a small pile of things to his right. There were dangly earrings, my comfy shoes, a tube of lipstick, and an old necklace with my kids’ name on it. Once I was dressed, I stood in front of the thin mirror hanging in the corner of my closet. There was a hush in the atelier. All of us were looking at me. Tears welled in my eyes. Finally, I spoke.

“You’ve dressed me in my favorite things.” I looked a long time at my friends. None of us said a word.

“We dressed you in the things that make you smile,” said Ann.

“When you smile, you look like a movie star," said Teddy. "Like our movie star."

I reached over and picked them up off the shelf. I smoothed out Ann’s constantly disheveled hair and stuck a small bit of stuffing back into Teddy’s foot that will peek out from time to time.

“I have loved you for a very long time, and today I love you even more than all of that,” I told them.

I put them back on the shelf. I looked around the atelier and began picking things off the floor. I had to get back to my work, so I did what I could. While I wasn’t going to the Met Gala any time soon, I decided maybe some of my new outfit would be just the thing for a weekend outing with my husband, though maybe not to include the poinsettia leggings.

I looked back at my couturiers as I walked out the closet door. Ann was dozing on a sweater, with Teddy snoring softly against her shoulder. “Thanks, my little loves,” I whispered, and turned out the light.

Friends, I wish you an ambiance of smiles this coming week.