dress,” Clover says. “That’s a whole performance of Riverdance.”
I’m about to start giggling again, when I spot Mum’s face. She’s staring at the photograph, mesmerized.
“Do you really think a dress like that would suit me?” she asks Cassandra.
“With your neat figure, absolutely. Isn’t it dreamy? I’ll let you in on a secret — it’s on my wish list too. Would you like to try it on?”
“What do you think, sis?” Mum asks Clover.
Clover hesitates. “If you like it, Sylvie, that’s all that matters. Why don’t you try on a few different styles and see which one you like the best? There’s no rush and you don’t have to decide this evening.”
“Good idea.” Mum jumps to her feet. She’s fully awake now. “I’m a size six to eight, Cassandra. Do you have the ‘Celtic Princess’ in my size?”
“Of course, we have a sample dress for you to try on and then we order a brand-new one, which will be adapted to fit you like a glove if it doesn’t already. It’s all part of the Butterfly Bridal service. We want you to look your absolute best. We always say, a beautiful bride is a happy bride. Why don’t we select four or five different styles, including the ‘Celtic Princess’ and present a mini wedding fashion show for your sisters?”
Mum laughs. “Amy’s my daughter.”
“Silly me,” Cassandra says. “But you look so young, Sylvie.”
Clover gags. Luckily Cassandra doesn’t notice.
As soon as Mum has followed Cassandra through the white velvet curtain to the changing room, Clover says, “Did you hear that Cassandra woman buttering Sylvie up?
You look so young, Sylvie. You have an amazing figure, Sylvie
. What’s the bet that the ‘Celtic Princess’ is the most expensive dress in the whole darn shop? What is Sylvie thinking?” She continues in a low voice: “All those sparkles and the fish-tail skirt. It’ll swamp her. I was talking to Hettie about wedding dresses — you know, Saffy’s friend who edits
Irish Bride
— and she says that when the bride walks down the aisle, you want people to say, ‘Doesn’t she look amazing?’ not ‘Isn’t that an amazing dress?’ Do you get the difference, Beanie?”
I’m not sure I do, to be honest, but I say yes anyway. Clover seems very riled up and I want to keep her calm. If Mum has her heart set on this “Celtic Princess” dress, we’ll both have to go along with it. It is
her
wedding after all!
“They could be a while, Beanie, so we might as well do some work.” Clover settles herself on the sofa, rummages in her bag, and then hands me a sheet of printed paper. “This came in today. What do you think?”
I start to read the problem letter:
Dear Clover and Amy,
I wonder if you can help me. My name is Lia and I’m 12¾. I’m off to secondary school in September (Woodbrook Comprehensive), and I’m already really nervous. None of my friends from Sixth Class are going — most of them are off to Saint Andrew’s or Wesley. So I won’t know anybody.
My current school has a uniform, so I don’t have to worry about picking an outfit every morning. But the new school doesn’t. I don’t have all that many clothes, to be honest. I don’t really know what suits me or what kind of things to buy, so I end up in the same old jeans-and-hoodie combo most of the time.
I know this may sound stupid, but how do you know what suits you? None of my friends are into clothes or shopping, and my mum’s not that kind of person either, so I don’t have anyone to ask.
I really want to have my own style, my own special look. I think this will make me more comfortable on my first day of school and help me feel less shy.
Do you have any fashion tips? Or shop suggestions? I’d be so grateful for any help you can give me. If you have time, maybe you could even take me shopping. . . .
Best wishes,
Lia, Monkstown
I look up from the letter and smile at Clover. This is an easy one. “You told Lia you’d take her shopping,
I’m about to start giggling again, when I spot Mum’s face. She’s staring at the photograph, mesmerized.
“Do you really think a dress like that would suit me?” she asks Cassandra.
“With your neat figure, absolutely. Isn’t it dreamy? I’ll let you in on a secret — it’s on my wish list too. Would you like to try it on?”
“What do you think, sis?” Mum asks Clover.
Clover hesitates. “If you like it, Sylvie, that’s all that matters. Why don’t you try on a few different styles and see which one you like the best? There’s no rush and you don’t have to decide this evening.”
“Good idea.” Mum jumps to her feet. She’s fully awake now. “I’m a size six to eight, Cassandra. Do you have the ‘Celtic Princess’ in my size?”
“Of course, we have a sample dress for you to try on and then we order a brand-new one, which will be adapted to fit you like a glove if it doesn’t already. It’s all part of the Butterfly Bridal service. We want you to look your absolute best. We always say, a beautiful bride is a happy bride. Why don’t we select four or five different styles, including the ‘Celtic Princess’ and present a mini wedding fashion show for your sisters?”
Mum laughs. “Amy’s my daughter.”
“Silly me,” Cassandra says. “But you look so young, Sylvie.”
Clover gags. Luckily Cassandra doesn’t notice.
As soon as Mum has followed Cassandra through the white velvet curtain to the changing room, Clover says, “Did you hear that Cassandra woman buttering Sylvie up?
You look so young, Sylvie. You have an amazing figure, Sylvie
. What’s the bet that the ‘Celtic Princess’ is the most expensive dress in the whole darn shop? What is Sylvie thinking?” She continues in a low voice: “All those sparkles and the fish-tail skirt. It’ll swamp her. I was talking to Hettie about wedding dresses — you know, Saffy’s friend who edits
Irish Bride
— and she says that when the bride walks down the aisle, you want people to say, ‘Doesn’t she look amazing?’ not ‘Isn’t that an amazing dress?’ Do you get the difference, Beanie?”
I’m not sure I do, to be honest, but I say yes anyway. Clover seems very riled up and I want to keep her calm. If Mum has her heart set on this “Celtic Princess” dress, we’ll both have to go along with it. It is
her
wedding after all!
“They could be a while, Beanie, so we might as well do some work.” Clover settles herself on the sofa, rummages in her bag, and then hands me a sheet of printed paper. “This came in today. What do you think?”
I start to read the problem letter:
Dear Clover and Amy,
I wonder if you can help me. My name is Lia and I’m 12¾. I’m off to secondary school in September (Woodbrook Comprehensive), and I’m already really nervous. None of my friends from Sixth Class are going — most of them are off to Saint Andrew’s or Wesley. So I won’t know anybody.
My current school has a uniform, so I don’t have to worry about picking an outfit every morning. But the new school doesn’t. I don’t have all that many clothes, to be honest. I don’t really know what suits me or what kind of things to buy, so I end up in the same old jeans-and-hoodie combo most of the time.
I know this may sound stupid, but how do you know what suits you? None of my friends are into clothes or shopping, and my mum’s not that kind of person either, so I don’t have anyone to ask.
I really want to have my own style, my own special look. I think this will make me more comfortable on my first day of school and help me feel less shy.
Do you have any fashion tips? Or shop suggestions? I’d be so grateful for any help you can give me. If you have time, maybe you could even take me shopping. . . .
Best wishes,
Lia, Monkstown
I look up from the letter and smile at Clover. This is an easy one. “You told Lia you’d take her shopping,
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