“I missed the American fashion—uh—scene so much!” Cynthia gushed. “In Moscow, they think Prada is a car!” She laughed at her own joke, gaily. She imagined Muscovites were ten times as fashionable as she, but her ploy seemed to be working. The girl had stopped gazing down the street, looking for another store to pawn her offon.
“That’s tough. I’ve seen those fur hats on TV. Everyone aways looks so cold.” She grimaced. “So, how do you want tolook?”
Cynthia took a deep breath. “The opposite of cold. Andsexy.”
The girl chuckled and eyed her more carefully before nodding slowly. “Sexy’s my specialty. Comeon.”
Two hours and a whole lot of bags later, Cynthia’s credit card carried a hefty balance and she owned blue jeans and black jeans, in a smaller size than she’d ever owned, dresses, cute little tops, boots, bags, costume jewelry. Theworks.
She was still wearing the last outfit she’d tried on, a tight black and white skirt and a little white cotton shirt that looked to her like underwear. On her feet were chunky blackshoes.
“You look awesome,” the girl assuredher.
“Would you do me afavor?”
“Sure.”
“Pass me that garbage can.” Cynthia thrust the two-piece tweed suit and the color coordinated blouse in the wastepaper basket and dusted off her hands briskly, as though she could trash all her dowdiness at once. “Thanks, I needed that. After I’m gone will you take that out and donate it tocharity?”
The girl laughed. “You got it. Come in anytime for advice. You look great, you know? Once you get your haircut—”
“Haircut?”
“I just assumed…um, I’m sure they cut hair real good in Moscow, it’s just that here, styles have changed a bit in the last tenyears.”
Cynthia put a hand to her hair. When she’d taken her mom to get her hair done it had seemed quicker to get her own done at the same time by Miss Priscilla at The House of Charm. Somehow, she’d never lost the habit. “Oh, ofcourse.”
“I know a great stylist. Michael. He’s a genius with hair.” She dug out a dog-eared card for a place called Ecstasy. “Put yourself in Michael’s hands. He’s the best.” The salesclerk paused. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but if you’re going for the complete newlook…?”
“Oh, Iam.”
“Those glasses aren’t doing you any favors, style-wise.”
“The glasses, of course. Thank you. Anythingelse?”
She shook her head. “You make sure and come back when you’re all done. I bet I won’t even recognizeyou.”
Since Cynthia was a big believer in never putting off till tomorrow what you could do today, she immediately went home and made appointments, with her eye doctor and, after a good talking-to about taking risks, with Michael at Ecstasy. She just hoped she didn’t come out of the salon with black-and-white hair. She wanted to look different, but not like Cruella deVil.
Michael turned out to be a flamboyant trivia buff with a passion for tropical fish. After putting herself in his hands, Cynthia forgot to watch what he was doing as she tried to keep up with hisconversation.
“My God, what did those Russians do to you?” he gasped, as he turned her this way and that in the mirror. “Email hacking isn’t enoughdamage?”
She grinnedweakly.
After she’d been shampooed and returned to his chair, Michael picked up a pair of scissors and started snipping. “You know, ten years in Russia has probably faded your hair color. I’m sure it wasn’t always thismousy.”
“No,” she agreed with a straight face. “It used to be muchnicer.”
“I’ll give it a rinse. Kind of mahogany with a touch of burgundy in it. How does thatsound?”
Anything that wasn’t in zebra tones sounded good toher.
When at last he was done, she could barely believe it. He’d left the length but given her bangs that softened her face and brought out her eyes, and whatever he’d done with those scissors had given her hair body and a soft wave. “I love it!” shecried.
The stylist nodded. “Me too. I think itworks.”
“I think so, too.” She giggled happily, touching her mahogany-with-a-touch-of-burgundy bangs. “I definitely thinkso.”
