Swati Sharma - Fashionably Yours

“Now can we just go? I don’t want to be late,” she pleaded.

I packed my vanity kit, slid it back into my bag, grabbed my coffee and followed her outside. When we emerged from the café, I was swept off my feet by the sudden change in the weather but Anu shuddered at the thought of rain washing off her makeup and spoiling her dress, but it was barely drizzling. A very early pre-monsoon tease by the rain gods.

“What the fuck?” she let out an exasperated sigh!

“What’s wrong with you? Just look at the weather,” I pointed at the dark grey clouds. They looked breathtaking, and it was delightfully windy. I clasped my hands in excitement. She looked at me disgustedly for a second before hurriedly running for her car in the parking.

“Come fast. It’s raining,” she shouted at me from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t be so over-dramatic,” I tutted.

“Are you coming or not?” she shouted.

“No. I think I’ll walk,” I grinned.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” I smiled and waved her goodbye.

Instead of going home, I decided to walk in the opposite direction. Digging out the iPod from the depths of my handbag, I untangled the earphones and, to the sound of Laura Pausini, headed towards the ocean. Sitting on the edge of Carter Road, I couldn’t help but wonder how beautiful the ocean looked, as if it was dancing hand-in-hand with the tiny falling drops without a damn care in the world. It was so romantic and almost magical. I felt my heart flutter at the sight.

May 31

Today I woke up to a not-so-unexpected phone call. What on earth could Mom want from me at six-thirty on a Friday morning? With my Blackberry in hand I was deciding between red or green and before I could press the red button, the ringing had died. I thanked my karma. Mornings are not the time to talk to your mother, someone else’s mother or any mother on earth in general.

When I reached the office I spent an hour networking on social media. Networking is nowadays a must and of utmost importance for every business and profession and what could be better than Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest. Logging out of my said accounts, I typed Harrods in Google’s search bar and promised myself that I would use it only for reference for my next article on ‘Global Online Shopping Trends’ and not give in to the temptation of browsing it’s gorgeous collection of bags, shoes, clothes and accessories. I knew it was going to be tough but I couldn’t risk being caught. As the website opened, I got the feeling that I was going to fail spectacularly and before I could accept my defeat I heard the clatter of stilettos in the lobby which was getting louder with every passing second. Before I had the chance to crane my neck to view the owner of the nude silk and leather Nine West peep toes, I knew who it was.

“Hey darling,” Veena flashed a crooked smile.

“What do you want?” I asked sternly.

How dare that bitch look like the Indian version of Posh without fake boobs? I just couldn’t understand how someone could afford a Zara dress, Nine West shoes, Bobbi Brown makeup and a Charles & Keith handbag when they were a mere receptionist. That too in a not-so-high-flying firm like Style. I mean even Natasha could only afford M.A.C. In between all the shabby and tackily dressed employees of the office, Veena looked like she owned all of it and we worked for her.

“Relax. Why so rude all the time?” she smirked, while waving a fluffy white envelope on my face.

“What’s that?”

“Oh this? This is for you. That’s why I came here to deliver it personally,” she said.

“Then why don’t you just give it to me and go back to your work,” I snapped before snatching the envelope from her perfectly manicured fingers. “Oh. Credit card bill,” my face fell.

“Yes. Your credit card bill,” she looked down at me. “I knew you were poor but didn’t know things were so bad,” she said in a sympathetic tone.

“How dare you read my personal documents?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “And I am not poor.”

“Oh come on. Don’t be such a snob. I just accidently opened it, not like I meant to,” she feigned innocence.

“I would really appreciate if you won’t repeat such accidents in the future,” I shot daggers at her.

“See, some accidents are fortunate accidents. Now I know about your poor financial condition, I can at least help you. What are friends for after all?” she grinned. The nerve of the bitch!

“For the last time, I am not poor and I don’t need your help. Just leave,” I said sternly.

“Come on, babes. I can set up a donation campaign for you if you want. What about gofundme.com ?” she ignored my warning and continued to spit poison at me.

I was boiling with anger and ready to burst and burn everything within a hundred meters of me when I saw Natasha emerging from her cabin and thought better of it. Natasha hated me and if I started screaming or fighting with Veena, she would kick me out of the office for creating unnecessary drama. So instead of waiting for Veena to leave I decided to do the honors.

“Excuse me, I have to go to the washroom.” Leaving her hovering over my desk, I picked my way out.

Sitting on the toilet seat with a crisp sheet of the credit card statement in my hands I was thinking how sensible it would be to accept Veena’s offer of setting up a donation campaign. There was no way in hell that I could pay seventy thousand rupees in sixty days. How could I let myself so out of control? Ten thousand for a bloody perfume? So what if it was on sale? So what if it was Chanel N°5? Oh come on! It was Chanel N°5, it was worth every penny, I scolded myself. But how was I going to pay off this bill?

After crying for ten minutes and practically using up all the water in the city for rinsing my face and rubbing away runny mascara marks, I got a hold of myself and went back to my desk only to find Anu sitting in my chair and browsing through the Harrods website.

For a moment I thought of telling her about the bill but then thought better of it. I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

“Look at those pins. You can give Kate Middleton a run for her money,” I mustered my brightest smile.

“Thank God, at least you don’t think I am fat,” she gave a pinched smile. How could someone who weighed as little as a hundred pounds be fat? What was the world coming to?

“Who said you are fat?”

“Sameer,” she sighed. “He always asks me to lose a couple of pounds. Can you imagine?”

Yes, I very well could.

“A man with a brain that weighs less than a piece of popcorn could say such things. It’s not unusual.”

“What?” she looked shocked.

And I thought I was talking to myself. I usually never talked to her about Sameer because basically I hated him, but criticizing him openly could stain our friendship and I wasn’t ready to risk it so most of the times I keep my precious thoughts to myself. The things you do for friendship.

“Nothing. Sorry for that. Anyway why are you here?” I asked, completely changing the subject.

“Well I am here to tell you that we are going out for a party tonight,” she beamed.

“You mean a real party with neon lights, loud music and delicious cocktails?”

I couldn’t believe that we were actually talking about a party. Before meeting Sameer, Anu and I used to party like hopeless teenagers with no guardian in sight, but it felt like ages ago because when she met him, everything changed. He had practically replaced every other thing and every other person in her life. I personally thought he knew some kind of occult art. How could you explain her dating a man like him? I really missed those late nights and wild parties with Anu.