Ariela’s friends come to see me. I like to think they are my friends, too. But first they were friends with Ariela. They started as her aides, hired for the job. But it was never just a job, and they knew that from the start. In the past week, four of her friends came by, and two sent me emails.
I went to dinner with Kim. We came back to my house and my closet. Kim is my fashionista buddy and was Ariela’s before she was mine. She went through my sweaters and told me I needed to get a few new things for my trip to New York.
“These are fall colors. You need spring,” she said. “We’ll go shopping.”
That’s good, because I hate shopping by myself. I see a top or a dress and think, “Oh, that would look so cute on Ariela.” Then, I remember.
I used to love buying clothes for Ariela, though she rarely liked what I selected. She loved shopping for herself. I was never sure if she didn’t like my taste, or she just wanted to have some control over her life, or maybe she wanted to tell me she could buy her clothes without me.
I think clothes are all about communication. Ariela liked to make a statement with her outfits. So, it figures that she would want to pick out her own wardrobe. She went in for plaids and stripes and bright colors. I suspect she would have been more flamboyant in her dress if she could have found more things to fit. She wore a size 7 girls. It’s not easy to find trendy clothes in that size. I had a few things tailored for her. But most of the time, shopped in the children’s department and avoided anything that said, “juvenile.” She shopped with friends, like Kim, who knew what was cool and would buy things they liked. She liked Abercrombie’s and Forever 21 and the GAP.
So, now I shop with Kim, because she knows what’s in fashion. And like all of Ariela’s friends, she connects me with all things young, and hip, and springtime, and Ariela.