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“We’re here to guide you and help you, not tell you who you are. Clothes say a lot about a person.”
I glanced down at my t-shirt that read,I may be nerdy, but only periodically, and refrained from asking what my clothes said about me now, because I was pretty sure I knew the answer. “I guess my days of nerdy graphic Ts are gone?” I asked, sad to see them go.
Penelope stared at the shirt a moment, then shook her head. “Not necessarily. You can totally rock those shirts. It’s just a cumulative look we’re going for. With a button down and some really nice jeans, it would be so much better. Also, a new hairstyle, confidence, and some well-paired accessories make a world of difference.”
“Well-paired accessories?” I said like I didn’t buy it.
“Yeah. Like a cool pair of sunglasses and a fashionable jacket. Or a leather wrist band and some faded jeans with a better cut and cool shoes.”
I stared down at the plain straight leg jeans my mother bought me at Christmas and my boring gray sneakers. Maybe she had a point.
“So back to your trademark look. What’s it gonna be?” Scarlett asked again, reeling me back in.
I stared at her blankly, then glanced at Penelope for help.
“Do you want to be preppy chic? Think polos, rugby shirts, chinos, and boat shoes with classic sunglasses. Or you could go with a sporty look. Think high-end hoodies and joggers with the latest athletic wear, a ball cap, and Oakleys.”
I grimaced. “Do I look like the sporty type to you?”
“Okay, that’s a no. You could totally go bad boy. Lots of black. A good leather jacket. Maybe some ripped or faded jeans and expensive T’s. Beanies and dark sunglasses.”
“Uh . . .”
“Or you could go rugged-outdoorsy.” Scarlett’s eyes lit up.
“Rugged?” I asked, unconvinced.
“A look that screams I go spelunking on the weekends and could build you a fire out of nothing but sticks and dried leaves in point-two seconds.”
“What about going totally classic?” Penelope asked. “Like a jet-setter look with blazers and ties and—”
“Does it have to besoone way or the other? So extreme?” I pressed my fingers to my temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Can’t I be a little bit of each or . . .” I trailed off as the heaviness of indecision settled in my chest, thick as storm clouds.
My shoulders slumped. Suddenly, a makeover seemed even more challenging than before. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe . . .
“Of course you can,” Scarlett said. “This is about you, and it should be fun, too.”
Right. Fun.
Scarlett must’ve noticed my defeated expression because she hooked her arm through mine and dragged me toward the double doors of Nordstrom. “Don’t get discouraged yet. We’re just getting started. I think I got you,” she shot a playful check to my ribs, “but to start, which one of the styles we mentioned sounds the most like you? Which would you like to try or be more comfortable in?”
We paused by a giant display of handbags as I considered her question. “I guess the first one?”
“The preppy look,” Penelope confirmed.
“I guess so.” I shrugged because I had no idea, really.
“That’s a good starting point. Come on.” Scarlett motioned in the direction of the men’s department. “I think I know what you’ll like, and we can do a more casual, relaxed version of preppy that suits you. Something a little more comfortable and less stiff.”
“Yes!” Penelope’s eyes brightened. “Like, no paisley prints or little crabs on your pants.”
“That’s a thing?” I asked.
“Totally. No worries though. We’ll go with pieces that are more understated. Like some Ralph Lauren khaki chinos with a pale blue button down, unbuttoned a bit at the collar and rolled at the sleeves. A fleece vest thrown in for layers in the cooler months.”
“And some stylish leather boots for something less pretentious,” Scarlett chimed in.
“Yes! And think V-neck sweaters over an untucked button down with a loose tie.”
