The Bloomingdale Makeover
We have a friend who lives on Long Island with her daughter. We have stayed very close to both of them and try to see them when we come to NY.
One year, about 1994 or so, my wife and I were in Manhattan staying at the Marriott Marquis. Our friend and her daughter decided to join us at the Marriott, spend the day with us, have dinner and get a room at the Marriott for the night.
They arrived in the morning and we decided to walk around the city and in particular, 5th Avenue where all the nice stores and department stores are.
We went in and out of some stores and eventually found ourselves in Bloomingdales.
I like giving gifts, and proposed buying the daughter, who was 18 at the time, an outfit in Bloomies.
We went to the junior department and she proceeded to pick out various items to try on.
They were awful! Everything she picked out was drab and baggy. In fact the clothes she was wearing were drab and baggy.
Being the sensitive person I am, I suspected she may have been self conscious of her figure which featured an ample bosom. However, it was evident to me, that she was not wearing the correct Bra.
I asked our friend why she allowed her daughter to dress this way? “She’s a young girl, why is she dressing like an older lady who has allowed things to sag?”
“I can’t tell her anything. Maybe she will listen to you” she said.
Being mindful of the delicate nature of the situation, I decided to forge ahead.
“Jessie, since I am paying, I should have some say in what you are going to pick out. I think we should go upstairs first and get you a better bra, come with me”.
To her mother’s amazement, and the dirty looks from my wife for my interfering ways, Jessie and I proceeded by ourselves to the “Ladies Lingerie Department” on a different floor, without so much as a hint of opposition from Jessie.
Upon entering the department, I zero’d in on a middle aged sales lady and said ever so tactfully “Do you see this girl I have here? I want you to find a bra that will fit her properly and put what is here (pointing to a spot on Jessie’s front that was lower than it should be for a girl her age), up here (a spot better positioned for showing off her attributes). Maybe a push up bra would do it?” I suggested in my most charming manner.
“I understand completely” the sales lady said, “leave it to me, she will be a new woman.”
With that, they disappeared into “Lingerie Land” while I waited for them to pick out the appropriate garment.
A short time later the sales lady reappeared with Jessie. Even though she was still dressed in her baggy top, there was a marked improvement.
“We’ll take it” I said and paid for the purchase. I insisted Jessie keep on the new undergarment and we returned to the Junior department for the promised outfit.
When we got there, I informed Jessie, I would do the picking and she would do the trying on. She didn’t object and her mother, slightly in shock at the lack of rebellion on her daughter’s part, sat and watched along with my wife.
I choose several outfits that showed off her new found figure and that were in fact figure hugging.
Jessie looked great in most of them and we quickly narrowed our search down to one in particular which I thought looked the best and gave her the most flattering look. I bought it.
That night, we were going to dinner. Jessie’s current boyfriend was joining us. She came out of her room wearing the new outfit.
The boy’s eyes bugged out of his head. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
The outfit was a success.
I don’t recall Jessie ever wearing drab or baggy clothes again, at least while I was around.
I like to think the makeover I gave her eventually helped in her find a very nice guy to marry. But that is for another story.
Jessie has asked me to mention her Melon problem, so I will.
A few years later, Jessie lived with us in Florida. I introduced her to the benefits of eating fruit all the time, particularly melon which I tried to eat every day.
She claims this traumatized her in regard to melons. Knowing this, I give her a gift wrapped melon whenever we see her. Something which has become a standing joke between us.
I don’t think the melons have anything to do with the trauma my wife says I inflicted with the makeover, but who knows?