Chapter 10
Ten
ISABEL
I follow the girls into the one wing of this mall I’ve never gone to.
What’s the point? All the shops on the ground floor are luxury brands—or in other words, way out of my budget.
I was never interested in their offerings either.
I don’t think I could pull off a dress from any luxury brand, nor could I justify shelling out what is equivalent to my life’s savings for an outfit.
This, of course, is no issue for Natalia or her friends.
The sales associates at the first store we visit greet her by name and are eager to show her the latest arrivals.
The other girls ooh and ahh at the clothes, but Natalia is unimpressed.
I imagine she prefers less accessible brands I’ve probably never even heard of.
I’m surprised she would even go to the mall to shop; a girl like Natalia can probably get access to showrooms with a snap of her fingers.
This must be for our benefit. A show, an experience.
I stare at the bags on the shelves and imagine the kind of person I’d have to be, the life I’d lead, if I were someone who could not only afford these things, but actually care to have them.
Mama only likes luxury brands as inspiration, proof of the limitless possibilities in fashion as art.
But while she and I believe every artist should be paid fairly, the prices also felt completely overblown; part of paying premium, I suppose, is knowing that not everyone can.
We move to the next store, where the girls take to the racks in search of something new and shiny. Chiara falls back and throws me an amused look. “It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?” she whispers. “Back home, I mainly thrifted. But Natalia’s paying, so—” She shrugs. “Why not?”
She leaves me to join the others. I peer into a glass case housing wallets and keychains.
The girls move toward the dressing rooms, and the sales associate lingering near me grows bored and follows. The look on her face tells me she knows I’m not here to buy anything. Possibly even that I can’t afford to. There’s no way I’m letting Natalia get me anything anyway.
Natalia steps out to a chorus of praise. She’s sporting a midnight blue bustier dress in velvet with an oversized bow. It fits her perfectly, as if it were made with her exact measurements.
“Shut the fuck up,” Ravina says. “You have to buy it. You look so good.”
Natalia inspects her reflection in the mirror. “Right?” She shoos the other girls back to the racks to hunt for their own pieces. She goes back in the dressing room to change and hands the velvet dress to a sales associate who knows the drill and takes it to the counter.
Ravina selects a black draped off-shoulder dress with loose fabric that hangs from her arms. She looks like a chic witch hoarding stacks of gold bars in a secret bank.
“Okay, so like, imagine this with pointed pumps and sheer black ankle socks?” she says to the girls in search of their approval. Another round of oohs and ahhs.
Natalia snaps her fingers. Ravina races back inside the dressing room, and when she re-emerges in her own clothes, the sales associate who was watching me takes the dress and drops it off at the counter.
Is no one going to check the price?
Luz, Chiara, and Erin aren’t pleased by the remaining options, so they resolve to check the other stores. Natalia hands the cashier her credit card and taps away on her phone, barely paying attention.
“Thank you,” the sales associate says, handing Luz both shopping bags.
The driver meets us outside and takes the loot from Luz. He trails us to yet another store, where the same procession happens all over again.
Chiara strikes gold with a burgundy evening dress with a flounce trim. No such luck for the other two, and so we hand Chiara’s bag to the driver and move on to—you guessed it: another luxury brand.
The last two girls squeal excitedly at their finds. Luz selects a rhinestone net minidress with low-cut armholes that would need a lot of fabric tape to ensure she doesn’t flash anyone by accident. Erin opts for a granite gray tulle halter dress embroidered with silver gemstones.
I’m startled when Ravina approaches me holding a black satin minidress embroidered with gemstones fashioned into flowers and a low V-cut neckline. “Try this on,” she says.
“Oh, no, I can’t—”
She thrusts the dress toward me. “Seriously. This would look so good on your figure.”
“I c—”
“Just fucking do it, Isabel,” Natalia snaps.
I take the dress and step into the dressing room.
I’m almost scared to touch the damn thing.
I’ve never worn anything so expensive and so…
exquisite. It’s definitely not my style; I wouldn’t be caught dead with my chest exposed, but what was I supposed to do?
If I shied away, Natalia would say I was embarrassing her in front of the sales associates or causing a scene.
I change out of my clothes feeling like I’ve just agreed to a humiliation ritual.
“Do you need help with the zipper, Ma’am?” a sales associate asks.
“Yes, please.” I hug the halter neck to my chest, trying to cover as much of my skin as possible. Why the fuck is this dress so fucking short?
The curtains draw slightly open and the sales associate enters. She doesn’t look up to meet my gaze in front of the mirror, just busies herself with zipping up the dress before stepping out.
I lower my hand. My breath catches at my reflection.
Okay, I kind of get it now. Mama always said that the right clothes do more than just make you look good; they give you power.
I feel just a smidge of that power flickering in me as I stand there in that too-short dress, probably hundreds and thousands of pesos out of my budget.
“Come out!” Chiara beckons.
Tentatively, I step out of the dressing room. There’s no praise this time, but there’s definitely raised brows, and a low whistle from Erin.
“I told you she was hot,” Erin nudges Ravina.
“Calm down,” Natalia chastises. She maintains her poker face as she thrusts an opal satin halter dress toward me. The skirt is longer, and the sight of it relieves me.
“Here,” she says to me now. “Try this. I think it’s your color.”
That might just be the nicest thing she’s ever said to me. I step back into the dressing room and change a second time. This go-around, Chiara helps me zip up my dress. She braces her hands on my shoulders and spins me before I even get a look at myself. She squeals.
“This is the one,” she says. She pulls the curtains wide open, and there it is: the chorus of approval from everyone except Natalia. Despite myself, I bask in the glow of their praises. My body heats with it.
Natalia shoos me back in. “Okay, Jimmy Choo next,” she says. I hear her heels clacking away from the dressing room.
I smile at my reflection and snap a picture to send to Rocío and my mom. I take my time getting changed, knowing it’s my first and last time with this dress. Maybe I’ll get Mama to make me something similar. Who knows.
I thank the sales associate when she takes the hanger from me. But instead of returning the dress to its rightful place, she carries it over to the counter where the girls are huddled around Natalia and waiting. A credit card glints in her hand.
“Oh, no,” I say. “No, no, I can’t—”
“Shut up,” Natalia says, handing her credit card to the cashier. The staff pack up the dress and deliver it straight to the driver. I can only stand there, shell-shocked with the knowledge that I am not just the owner of my dream dress, but that Natalia made me so.
Chiara giggles as she hooks her arm in mine and leads me out of the store toward a shop that specializes in designer shoes. “Isn’t this fun?” she asks.
My heart is racing in my chest. I don’t know how I’m going to afford paying Natalia back for this.
Ravina walks backward, facing us. “We should have a black-tie party. Tonight. It’s the perfect excuse to wear our new dresses.”
Natalia smiles at her. “Luz, text Shirley and tell her to plan it. And make sure she gets the new caterer? Not the old one. They were terrible. Should we have it tonight?”
“I don’t know if the boys packed suits,” Chiara says.
“Of course they did,” Natalia answers. “I specifically asked them to. Tell them to have the maids iron them. Luz, what did Shirley say?”
Luz looks up from her phone. “She’s calling the caterer.”
“Good. Move our appointment with the spa to this weekend.”
I never realized how much Natalia treats Luz like an assistant.
Chiara slides her hand in mine and squeezes it.
We stop over at a place selling leather bags before going to the shoe store.
There Natalia considers buying us all matching handbags of calfskin with the brand’s signature printed motif, but when nobody could decide which color they wanted (I, personally, sat away from the commotion, too anxious to even think about picking), Natalia put a pin on it to revisit later. Then we’re off.
When the doors pull open, the girls are unleashed into the store. They spread out this way and that, each one attended to by a clerk. One sales associate steps up to me with a smile. “Are you looking for anything particular?”
I shake my head. I figure the girls will pick for me eventually. And I’m right. I’m dizzy by the time we step out of the shoe store an hour later, each of us with brand-new heels to go with our dresses.