LEILA
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“Okay, L, focus This one” Sophia held up a dress, a swirl of emerald green silk, her eyes wide with evangelical fervor.
We were in a dressing room at Bergdorf Goodman, surrounded by discarded garments and Sophia’s boundless enthusiasm.
After my reluctant promise not to entirely self-immolate with work, she’d taken my agreement to a ‘possible date’ as a green light to initiate a full-scale wardrobe intervention.
“Soph, it’s a lot of green,” I said, looking at the shimmering fabric.
It was beautiful, everything in here was, but it felt extra. Like I was trying too hard.
“Exactly” she crowed.
“It’s not your usual ‘blend into the wallpaper’ black. This says ‘I am here, I am fabulous, and I might just set something on fire’.” She grinned, tossing the dress towards me.
