The Single Girl's To-Do List by Kelk Lindsey Page A

heart raced at the idea that being a short-arse would be paying off for the first time ever, and at the sight of all the different colours being pulled from the racks out front. For someone who only really wore monochrome, this was like taking couture LSD. I saw ice blues, pale yellows, jade greens, stripes, spots, florals and solids, all coming my way.
    ‘Most of these are vintage.’ Shop Girl transferred the outfits from her arms to the hanging rail in my changing boudoir. ‘But there are a couple of new pieces as well. There’s nothing too out there, it’s all very wearable, I promise.’
    Apparently she could see the fear in my eyes.
    ‘I’ve just never worn anything so pretty before,’ I blushed. It was shameful. ‘I don’t know when I’d wear it.’
    Shop Girl looked as if she understood. Or at least as if she really wanted to make a sale.
    ‘Every day when I get dressed, I think, what do I wish would happen today? And I dress for that. I’d never forgive myself if Johnny Depp walked by and asked me to join him in Monte Carlo for the weekend and I was wearing jeans. I would totally get over being in the queue for a lottery ticket in high heels.’
    You couldn’t argue with the woman, really.
    ‘I’ll be outside, give me a shout when you’re done.’ She closed the door behind her and left me and Emelie alone to play dress-up.
    ‘Get this one on before I buy it first.’ Em threw the sky blue silk at me. ‘It might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.’
    Disappearing behind the curtain and trying not to be too ashamed of my old underwear, I slipped into the new dress. The sensation of the cool silk against my skin combined with the sight of my bouncy bob in the mirror was enough to draw out a gasp. The dress was beautiful. My hair was beautiful. My big dark circles and dull skin were not beautiful. But still.
    ‘Oh Rach.’ Emelie stuck her head around the curtain. ‘You look like a girl.’
    ‘Thanks,’ nothing like a backhanded compliment to make you bounce up and down with joy. ‘I feel like a girl. It’s weird.’
    But some sort of girl-instinct kicked in and, before I knew it, I couldn’t stop twisting backwards and forwards at the waist, making the dress flare and kick out. I was like a little girl in her birthday frock. Not that my mother had ever put me in a birthday frock for fear of me scratching out her eyes. Even though I was the older sibling, I’d spent most of my childhood in Paul’s hand-me-downs. Jeans were much more practical for climbing trees and riding bikes. It was a mystery to everyone how I’d ended up as a make-up artist. Made total sense to me; I’d been living vicariously through my models for years but now I was done with vicarious living. Time to give actual life a go.
    ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said to the mirror as much to Emelie. ‘I just can’t imagine wearing it.’
    ‘What’s to imagine?’ She snapped a pic with her phone. ‘You’re wearing it. Now take it off and get the yellow one on.’
    Emelie and the world’s best shop assistant had a point. Just because I’d never worn a dress down to Tesco before didn’t mean I couldn’t start now. Probably wouldn’t pop down to the post office in the floor-length emerald green silk gown Em was admiring at that second, but I could see myself chowing down on a tuna niçoise at Pizza Express in this cute little sundress.
    ‘Oh, look at you,’ Shop Girl reappeared at the door. ‘Betty and Joan all rolled into one.’
    ‘We’re not doing Mad Men references right now.’ Em drew a finger across her throat. ‘But you’re so right.’
    Betty and Joan all rolled into one? That was a lot of pressure on a girl who wasn’t even a Peggy twelve hours ago. The stress must have registered on my face.
    ‘Try on the stripes.’ Shop Girl pointed at a black and white number hanging on the rail. ‘Your friend and I can pick out some shoes.’
    Without even knowing, she’d used Emelie’s magic word. That girl