Struggles of a Fangirl

Struggle #33

"Remember girls, think classy but keep it youthful. You're going to a red carpet event, not a prom." Keisha tells us, handing us each a credit card. I cradle the card in my hand with care of a newborn. I've never even had a debit card, so to have a credit card makes things even more exciting to me. As I gush over the card with the girls, London stands off to the side, holding the card between her fingers like it's just cheap plastic. Knowing her, she's probabaly possessed a credit card from birth. "I'll be back to pick you guys up around 2:00."

 We nod and Keisha climbs back into the SUV, taking off out the parking lot. Today while the boys are at the studio, rehearsing for their performance in a couple days, Keisha suggested that we go shopping for some red carpet worthy outfits. She gave us tips on what we should and shouldn't wear, what will look nice under the lights and what color will make you look like a walking neon sign on camera. Her tips were useful because, knowing me, I'd be the one to show up in an all yellow outfit with some kind of studs, thinking I look cute when I actually look liked a bruised banana. Tomorrow will be even better because we're getting our hair and make up done by some top notch stylist. My stomach flips with excitement just thinking about walking the red carpet with all the flashing cameras and celebrities.

 "Where should we start first?" Yannie asks as we stand in the center of a gleaming all white mall. This mall isn't like any mall I've ever been to. The malls are go to are full of hungry teenagers, pop music and colorful pop culture type stores with Hot Topic wedged somewhere in the midst of it all. This mall is more adult like full of boutiques with names I never heard of nor can pronouce. I look around at all the unfamiliar stores, looking for one that seems suitable for my taste.

 London steps forward with a hand on her hip and a Michael Kors bag dangling from her arm. She blends right in with this type of mall. All fancy and elegant like she has stacks of money stashed in her big donut bun. "That one," She points her chin in the direction of a store who's sign is decorated in big lights and gold accents. "SYMPHONY" is the name of the store, it even sounds fancy. We all exchange a glance with eachother before shrugging and following London across the floor, with her in the lead of course. When we approach the store, I gaze through the windows at the clothes on display. It's like something straight out of Vogue magazine, red carpet worthy and everything.

 We go inside and lady with platinum blonde hair and baby blue eyes rushes over to us. Her nose is stuck in the air as she eyes all of us, obviously not used to our age group coming into a store like this. She looks us over one by one, from our skinny jeans to sneakers. Her eyes linger on the snapback resting on Renee's head who I recognize as Rocs, she sighs and clasps her hands together

 "Are your parents here to keep an eye on you?" She asks us flatly, her gold name tag flashing the name Marissa.

 Renee scoffs, "Um no? We're like 15 and 16, I think we can handle shopping on our own."

 Marissa lips tighten, "In this type of store? I don't think so." She crosses her arms. "We sell high class clothes, something I'm assuming you all can not afford. You should try GAP or Aeropastle."

 My mouth drops in surprise, is this lady serious? She's willing to lose money just because she thinks we're some kids from the street that cant afford her snooty store? Talk about rude. Before I can suggest that we just leave and go to a different store, London walks closer to the lady, her high bun giving her a good two inches in height. "I'm just gonna let you know that my father is number two on the top ten lawyers list in Boston. I could sue you right now for discriminating. Just because we're not dressed like the queen of England and our nose is sticking up towards space you're just gonna assume that we're hood rats?"

 Marissa's face changes quickly, "No no no, I just---"

 "Shit you pants at the fact that my dad could sew your ass off, right?" London retorts, the glare in her eye never leaving. Marissa opens her mouth but London cuts her off yet again. "I'll go easy on you Marissa. We're gonna leave you're stick-in-the ass store and pretend this never happened. But word of advice," London reaches into her bag and pulls out a clean white wallet. She plucks a gold card from the wallet's pocket and holds it up like it's an emmy. "You might want to watch who you're talking to. You never know who might want to splurge their money in here."