Shopaholic Takes Manhattan
Page 67“I’ll just fetch a mascara…”
She disappears toward the front of the shop and I close my eyes. If I’m honest, my head’s still spinning from all that wine, and I’m finding it quite hard to balance on this tiny chair.
Suddenly I feel a coldness on my cheek, and look up. Jodie is standing in front of me, dipping her fingers into a small pot.
“What are you doing?” I say feebly.
“Jazzing you up a bit!” she says, and dabs my other cheek. “All this neutral crap! Like that’s what you wanted from a makeover.”
“Well—”
“I know you’re too polite to complain. You Brits really need to get some attitude.” She stands back and gives a satisfied nod. “Now, did you ever wear false eyelashes? Because they have a great range here.”
“Jodie, I’m not sure…”
“She looked boring,” says Jodie defiantly.
“She looked classic!” Mona sticks her hands on her hips. “Well, you’ve ruined it now.”
“What have I got on my face?” I demand, and pull the mirror toward me. My own face stares back. Smooth and beige, with softly shadowed eyes, discreetly colored lips… and silver sparkles on my cheeks.
“Looks great, doesn’t it?” says Jodie unapologetically. “Much better with the glitter.”
I glance at Mona’s annoyed face and suddenly feel a bit guilty.
“Actually, Mona,” I say quickly, “I’d really like to buy some of the products you used. In fact… all of them. Would that be possible?”
“Oh,” says Mona, unbending a little. “Well — yes, of course. They are from a rather expensive line…”
Ten minutes later I find myself outside Sephora, clutching two carrier bags full of makeup, a whole set of new cosmetic brushes, a silver shower cap, and something called “buffing paste,” which I threw in at the last moment. I’m not sure quite what it is — but the jar is absolutely gorgeous!
“OK,” I say, looking dazedly around the busy street in front of me. “Where next?”
“Babe, I have to go,” says Jodie, looking up from her pager. “I’ve already had a five-hour lunch break. But if you want the true SoHo experience, there’s Dean and Deluca right in front of you…” She swivels me by the shoulders until I’m facing across the street. “… and just along is Scoop, which is the place to pick up the most expensive T-shirt in the universe…”
“What about that?” I say, pointing to a gorgeous, glowing shop window that has caught my eye.
“Kate’s Paperie. To die for.”
“What does it sell?” I say puzzledly. “Just paper?”
“Just paper!” She gives a raucous chuckle. “You go take a look. And listen, you want to get together again sometime?”
“No problem.”
I watch as Jodie hurries off toward the subway and suddenly notice that the spiky heels of her shoes are painted in red-and-white stripes, too. That’s so cool! Where did she get them?
“Jodie!” I cry, but she can’t hear me. Never mind, I’ll ask her next time.
As she disappears down into the subway station I walk slowly toward Kate’s Paperie. I’m not really interested in paper, to be honest. In fact, I probably won’t bother going in. But it can’t hurt to have a little—
I stop in my tracks as I reach the window, and stare at the display, astounded. When Jodie said paper, I imagined piles of photocopying sheets. I had no idea she meant… I mean, just look at that display of marbled wrapping paper. And that decoupage box. And that amazing beaded ribbon! I’ve never seen anything like it!
I push the door open and walk around, marveling at the arrangements of beautiful wrapping paper adorned with dried flowers, raffia, and bows, the photograph albums, the boxes of exquisite writing paper… And oh God, just look at the greeting cards!
You see, this is it. This is why New York is so great. They don’t just have boring old cards saying Happy Birthday. They have handmade creations with twinkly flowers and witty collages, saying things like “Congratulations on adopting twins!” and “So sad to hear you broke up!” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">