Scene 43
Scene Forty-three...Makeover
Time: Saturday, June 1, 1946
Place: Downtown Miami
Storyteller: Janet
"Let me drive, please." I hold out my hand for Betty's car keys.
"No. Not in the rain," she replies.
"I've driven the Plymouth in the rain...and besides, Dad let me drive Mom to shop in Miami."
"It wasn't raining...but I suppose you need the experience," Betty gives in.
Doris hops in the back. Betty bosses me from the front. "Turn the lights on."
I keep both eyes on the wet pavement all the way to Burdines. The rain stops. The sun pops out from behind a cloud.
"First things first. The Bride." I lead the way.
There are about ten shades of white. This is confusing to me...never been so bored in my life. Silk, satin, taffeta. Betty tries on them all. She is now modeling the one with the "V" neck. Can't believe I skipped ballet for the first time in my life to shop.
"That is my very favorite," I say, hoping to get this over with.
Doris agrees, but sees a problem. "Your Daddy might not like that neckline. Too low."
"You're right. The scoop neck is more appropriate for a church wedding. I'll try that one on again."
"You do that. Meet me at the palm trees in the middle of the store." I dash toward the beautiful oasis, painted in subtropical colors...a place to lounge while shopping.
After lunch we go on a serious hunt for bridesmaid dresses. "There it is!" I point to the long, red gown on the manikin.
A saleslady approaches; we need her. "Miss, please bring this in a four. Doris, what's your size?"
"It's hard to remember. Maybe a ten?"
"Miss, does my red dress come in blue, size ten?"
Yes, thank heavens. Mine fits. The blue is way too big. Doris tries on a six. Perfect! We're done shopping.
"Are you still sick?" Doris worries me.
"No. Feel great. Quit wheat and lost weight. I need to buy new clothes, but not today," she says.
I have a brainstorm. "Today you're going to get a complete makeover!"
Betty agrees and finds a salon.
Doris is in the beauty chair. Rita puts a cape around her shoulders.
"A two inch trim would flatter your face," the beautician suggests.
"And a wash and set. Okay, Doris?" I ask.
She nods, but looks petrified.
The haircut went too quickly for Doris to object. In goes the rollers.
Rita says, "Let's try on some make-up before we get you dry."
"Light foundation and a little rouge." Betty puts in her two cents, then picks out the Dusty Rose lipstick.
Rita obeys, then searches for the blue eye-shadow. "This will really accent your brown eyes," she promises.
One coat of mascara.
Under the dryer.
Done!
The results are nothing less than spectacular. Doris could pass for Miss America 1945, Bess Myerson. Betty notices the resemblance immediately.
"Only Bess is 5'10" and Doris is almost as short as Mom," I point out.
"What is this with you and heights?" my sister asks.
"It's because of the Rockettes requirement, 5'6" to 5'10 and a half. I'm smack dab in the middle."
"Okay, Okay. Let's find the car," says Doris.
We do find it...with a dead battery. "Oh, no. It stopped raining. The sun came out. I couldn't see the lights on...forgot to turn them off. We're stuck here."
"Daddy's playing golf. Paul's in Daytona." Betty calls Sal. "William is on his way!"
I find a bench big enough for the three of us under a Royal Poinciana tree. The rain has washed some scarlet red flowers onto the ground by our feet. More pedals float down while we watch for our hero.
In less time than expected, he comes roaring up. My sister is quick to give him a big hug and kiss. Doris even pecks him on the cheek.
"Pardon me. Do I know you ma'am?" He notices the makeover and teases her.
Doris giggles.
"Let me charge it up." He pulls out the jumper cables.
I've had enough female bonding. "May I ride home with William? He needs to see my ballet school on the way."
"It's out of the way, but get him home early. We have a date." Betty winks at her fiance.
We pass many poincianas in full red bloom on our way over to South Beach. William is about to turn left.
"Turn right. Let's cruise through the Kennel Club parking lot."
"No." He turns left. "Show me your ballet school."
Time: Saturday, June 1, 1946
Place: Downtown Miami
Storyteller: Janet
"Let me drive, please." I hold out my hand for Betty's car keys.
"No. Not in the rain," she replies.
"I've driven the Plymouth in the rain...and besides, Dad let me drive Mom to shop in Miami."
"It wasn't raining...but I suppose you need the experience," Betty gives in.
Doris hops in the back. Betty bosses me from the front. "Turn the lights on."
I keep both eyes on the wet pavement all the way to Burdines. The rain stops. The sun pops out from behind a cloud.
"First things first. The Bride." I lead the way.
There are about ten shades of white. This is confusing to me...never been so bored in my life. Silk, satin, taffeta. Betty tries on them all. She is now modeling the one with the "V" neck. Can't believe I skipped ballet for the first time in my life to shop.
"That is my very favorite," I say, hoping to get this over with.
Doris agrees, but sees a problem. "Your Daddy might not like that neckline. Too low."
"You're right. The scoop neck is more appropriate for a church wedding. I'll try that one on again."
"You do that. Meet me at the palm trees in the middle of the store." I dash toward the beautiful oasis, painted in subtropical colors...a place to lounge while shopping.
After lunch we go on a serious hunt for bridesmaid dresses. "There it is!" I point to the long, red gown on the manikin.
A saleslady approaches; we need her. "Miss, please bring this in a four. Doris, what's your size?"
"It's hard to remember. Maybe a ten?"
"Miss, does my red dress come in blue, size ten?"
Yes, thank heavens. Mine fits. The blue is way too big. Doris tries on a six. Perfect! We're done shopping.
"Are you still sick?" Doris worries me.
"No. Feel great. Quit wheat and lost weight. I need to buy new clothes, but not today," she says.
I have a brainstorm. "Today you're going to get a complete makeover!"
Betty agrees and finds a salon.
Doris is in the beauty chair. Rita puts a cape around her shoulders.
"A two inch trim would flatter your face," the beautician suggests.
"And a wash and set. Okay, Doris?" I ask.
She nods, but looks petrified.
The haircut went too quickly for Doris to object. In goes the rollers.
Rita says, "Let's try on some make-up before we get you dry."
"Light foundation and a little rouge." Betty puts in her two cents, then picks out the Dusty Rose lipstick.
Rita obeys, then searches for the blue eye-shadow. "This will really accent your brown eyes," she promises.
One coat of mascara.
Under the dryer.
Done!
The results are nothing less than spectacular. Doris could pass for Miss America 1945, Bess Myerson. Betty notices the resemblance immediately.
"Only Bess is 5'10" and Doris is almost as short as Mom," I point out.
"What is this with you and heights?" my sister asks.
"It's because of the Rockettes requirement, 5'6" to 5'10 and a half. I'm smack dab in the middle."
"Okay, Okay. Let's find the car," says Doris.
We do find it...with a dead battery. "Oh, no. It stopped raining. The sun came out. I couldn't see the lights on...forgot to turn them off. We're stuck here."
"Daddy's playing golf. Paul's in Daytona." Betty calls Sal. "William is on his way!"
I find a bench big enough for the three of us under a Royal Poinciana tree. The rain has washed some scarlet red flowers onto the ground by our feet. More pedals float down while we watch for our hero.
In less time than expected, he comes roaring up. My sister is quick to give him a big hug and kiss. Doris even pecks him on the cheek.
"Pardon me. Do I know you ma'am?" He notices the makeover and teases her.
Doris giggles.
"Let me charge it up." He pulls out the jumper cables.
I've had enough female bonding. "May I ride home with William? He needs to see my ballet school on the way."
"It's out of the way, but get him home early. We have a date." Betty winks at her fiance.
We pass many poincianas in full red bloom on our way over to South Beach. William is about to turn left.
"Turn right. Let's cruise through the Kennel Club parking lot."
"No." He turns left. "Show me your ballet school."