“I thought you would think so,” said Clover. “As a matter of fact, their stuff isn’t exactly my cup of tea. Some of those more traditional places, like up on Lexington, have truly exquisite European things. That’s where Theo and I go for our robes. Theo has this blue-and-white crepe de chine one she used to always wear in the summer, in Sag Harbor, when I was a girl. She was always very big on having the proper cover-up. One of her favorite sayings was: ‘Little girls should not be seen at breakfast-time without their wrappers.’”
“Do we have to get wrappers then?” I asked.
“No, silly,” said Val, before Clover could answer.
“Well…” Clover considered this carefully. “It might be nice if you did, actually, for when she comes to visit. She is staying in the apartment after all.”
“When is she coming again?” Val yawned.
“August,” I said. “August 14.” I was so looking forward to it—no way could I have forgotten the exact date.
Clover gestured to the lingerie on the racks and said: “For your more flamboyant tastes, Valentine. I thought you’d like to go someplace a little more new for a change. And since you’re in love, you must be treated with the utmost gentleness.”
“Gentleness?” said Val, not getting it. “But I’ve never felt happier in my whole life! Being in love and all.”
“Oh,” said Clover, with her light little laugh. “Happiness! But happiness is the most fragile thing in the world.”
Before we could ponder that one we got carried away by all the bright, beautiful things in the store. The inside was all pink and black and reminded me of the bedroom an old movie star might have. The salesgirls all wore the same thing: these pink button-down dresses with fishnets and spiky gold heels. The dresses were almost like men’s shirts and made me think they weren’t wearing anything else. But that was silly, I told myself. It was a lingerie store, so of course they must have been wearing lingerie underneath. There was a dizzying array of it—bras, panties, garters, things I couldn’t even name—all over the store.
Valentine immediately gravitated to a strawberry-pink one-piece edged in black lace. It was sort of like a bathing suit except it was satin. On what occasion would one be wearing that? I wondered.
“One doesn’t begin with teddies,” said Clover, shooing Valentine away.
Teddies: so that’s what the one-piece satin numbers were called. I made a note of the name. Just another thing to bring back to San Francisco with me.
Valentine said, “But…” I could tell she really wanted that teddy. She was looking at it as though it were a wonderful, melting bar of milk chocolate.
“I think what you need is a special matching bra and undie set that fits really well and makes you feel like magic when you put it on. And for you, Franny, I was thinking of a pretty little nightie. Would you like that?”
I absolutely loved Clover at that moment. For one thing, she had not forgotten me. For another, she understood that I was not quite ready for serious lingerie, but I still wanted something. And I hated the thought of spending money on an expensive bra when I was still hoping my boobs would grow.
“But not here for your nightie, I don’t think,” Clover went on. “You want something more—sophisticated. I know just the place.”
“This is sophisticated,” said Valentine.
“No, it’s not,” said Clover firmly. “It’s glamorous. There’s a difference.”
“But glamorous and sophisticated are the same thing.”
“Not at all, Valentine. Not at all.”
The lingerie sets all had names: the Cara, the Fifi, the Framboise, the Nikita. Valentine tried on them all, and in the end, it was between the Fifi and the Framboise. The Framboise was champagne-pink satin with black Chantilly lace overlay, but the Fifi, the Fifi was pleated tulle, not satin, and it had ruffles. The Fifi won.
“But how are you going to wear those underneath your clothing?” I asked, looking at the Fifi underpants, which had pleats and ruffles exploding all around the bottom. They were certainly pretty, the prettiest pair of underpants I had ever seen, but …
“Who cares?” said Valentine. “I’m just going to wear them around the room. I’m going to wear them all the time.”
Oh dear. I suddenly had visions of her striking ballet poses in them in front of the mirror. How insufferable that would be!
When we were outside again, with Valentine merrily swinging her shopping bag, she said, “Julian has dark hair and blue eyes. Did I tell you? Wavy dark hair and deep blue eyes.”
“You did,” said Clover with extraordinary patience.“But tell me more.”
We walked along the streets of SoHo till we got to Clover’s next destination, which was on Green Street. It was very different from the previous store, and I saw right away what Clover meant about it being more sophisticated. It was almost more like a museum than a store, done in a palate of mauves and almonds. There were black-and-white photographs on the wall and display cases with delicate, indeterminate objects. I thought they must have been miniature sculptures, but what were sculptures doing in a lingerie store?