Nancy’s Theory of Style (5 page)

“Nonsense. You’re a puny thing. There’s
enough room for both of us.”

Nancy
stood taller. She wasn’t as tall as the
older woman, but she was by no means puny. Then she reluctantly got in the
claustrophobic elevator, pulling the suitcase after her, wondering why Miss
Winkles smelled so deliciously like a patisserie, until she spotted the white
cardboard box in her shopping bag.

Nancy
politely observed, “Very nice weather.”

“It’s the same as yesterday and will be
the same tomorrow. What are you doing with all this luggage? Running away from
that husband of yours?”

Nancy
continued to smile. A lady was respectful
to her elders. “I’ll be staying here while I establish my event planning
business, Froth. Todd is being unbelievably patient with this brief respite! We
have a modern relationship.”

Miss Winkles snorted. “Nothing new hidden
in the fog, Girl Carrington. One of my sisters, I don’t recall if it was Dody
or Ferny, dated a Chambers, some relation to your fellow. He played the ponies
and had a weakness for light opera.”

According to Miss Winkles, the last of
the famous Winkles Triplets to remain in
San
Francisco
, she and her sisters had dated everyone and
knew all their unsavory habits, be it mass murder or a fondness for Gilbert and
Sullivan.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,”
Nancy
said, nonetheless
thinking about Todd’s appearance in the chorus of “The H.M.S Pinafore” during
campus follies. The elevator bell dinged softly for the fourth floor. “It’s
always wonderful seeing you!”

Nancy
pulled her suitcase out of the
elevator, leaving Miss Winkles to go up to her four-bedroom penthouse apartment
with 360 degree views and a terrace. The Winkles Triplets had taken the flat in
their heyday, when they’d been sought after for every advertisement and public
function.

Sometimes
Nancy
fantasized about cutting the elevator
line. She’d hear Miss Winkles’ muffled shriek of terror and the building would
shudder as the elevator hit the garage level. There would be a somber city-wide
day of mourning for the icon, and after a respectful week or so,
Nancy
would take
possession of the top-floor.

The penthouse was even big enough for a
married couple, she thought before realizing that it wasn’t big enough for Todd.
He liked owning a swimming pool, home gym, movie room, and game room, so Miss
Winkles was safe for one more day.

Chapter 3: Creating Ambiance & Mood

As soon as
Nancy
walked into her one-bedroom apartment,
she felt a wave of melancholy. She’d painted the walls sea-green with ivory
trim, like the sea and sand of her honeymoon. When she’d married, she’d
replaced her pink velvet furniture with Louis XVI reproductions in mahogany,
which weren’t nearly as amusing, but much more appropriate for Mrs. Todd
Carrington-Chambers.

Nancy
opened the sash windows to air out the
rooms and unpacked and put everything away, because she couldn’t function
without perfect order. “Order brings harmony, and harmony brings happiness,”
she said aloud and then jotted the sentence in a black-and-white pasteboard
composition book.

The notebook, which was titled Theory of
Style, was filled with her opinions about style and beauty. Most of what she
wrote had been said before by someone bitchier and wittier; but the individual
comments weren’t as important as the process.
Nancy
was waiting for some great truth to
reveal itself to her like the concept of gravity to Sir Isaac Newton – in a single
blinding epiphany.

She placed the notebook back on her writing
table, beside the silver dish of Froth business cards. When she ran her finger
over a letterpress card, white with sea-green type, she noticed that her Louis
Ghost Chair was a little dusty, so she went to the laundry room, one of the
luxuries of this city apartment, and took out the vacuum cleaner, duster, and
polishing rags. In 30 minutes, the rooms were up to her standards.

Nancy
was hungry so she went to her small
kitchen and opened the retro buttercup yellow refrigerator. She surveyed the
neatly arranged bottles of water and picked out the one at the top left hand
corner. She then shifted the remaining bottles so that they were evenly spaced.

She wasn’t puny. She was elegantly slim.
Water was elegant and refreshing and it didn’t stain or get stuck between your
teeth.

Then
Nancy
walked down the hill to
Fillmore Street
to
see if there was anything new and interesting in the chic shops since her last
visit. A trio of chattering young mothers with double-strollers hogged the
sidewalk, making it impossible for
Nancy
to window-shop.

“Hey!” one woman said rudely, jerking
her stroller sideways when
Nancy
accidentally bumped into it.

Nancy
glanced down at the woman’s blobular
offspring in terrifying tiny velour warm-ups. “Hey is for horses,” she said and
kept walking.

It was really remarkable how everything
essential could be found in one neighborhood, she thought as she entered a
favorite boutique. Fresh-faced clerks with shiny hair and solemn expressions
refolded the already neatly folded garments.

Sometimes
Nancy
felt as if she had more in common with
these shop girls, who understood that texture and construction were more important
than color, than she’d ever have with Todd.

She bought a short pale pink dress with
a side seam folded like paper -- it would be perfect for Lizette’s wine country
weekend.
Nancy
had helped to make the semi-annual event a highlight in their crowd, so she was
expected to look fantastic. It would be odd going by herself, but Todd hadn’t
liked the weekend of wine tasting and amazing meals anyway. He preferred
falling asleep in his king-sized bed with ESPN blaring.

Nancy
went to other shops, buying lotions,
magazines, and flowers. She was thrilled to find a set of etched pink tumblers
in the collectibles section of a charity shop, and she picked up a copy of
Simon Doonan’s Eccentric Glamour for a friend.

Then she went to the wine shop to order
a delivery.

The man at the counter took her address
and said, “That’s Chateau Winkles. How’s Miss Binky?”

“She’s as fascinating as ever.”

The man grinned and said, “When I was a
kid, I was always excited to see the Triplets. I’m throwing in a bottle of
cream sherry for her. Older ladies like their sherry.”

“You’re too kind,”
Nancy
glanced at the total on the receipt and
thought she would have to be more careful.

She carried her purchases back to the
apartment building, and by the time she walked up to the fourth floor, she was
exhausted. She put everything neatly away and washed before she drank another
bottle of water and went on her laptop to schedule delivery of Blue Bottle
coffee beans.

She looked out the window toward the
park at the gauze of fog blowing in. She was so deep in her thoughts about the
importance of good neutrals that the ringing of the house phone startled her. The
house phone was reserved for family calls.

It was Todd’s dull little secretary, who
said that three candidates had been identified for the assistant position and
that she’d set up interviews.

Nancy
took down the names and appointment
times and thanked her. Todd was trying. He always tried.

Her personal phone rang. She glanced at
the screen, answered and said, “Hi, Junie.”

“
Nancy
,
I wanted to call earlier, but I was stuck in meetings,” Junie wisped. “How are
you doing?”

“I’m at my apartment and everything is
fine. Todd and I agreed that I should stay here and focus on Froth.”

“Oh,
Nancy
, you seemed so angry last night…”

“That’s how relationships are. They go
through ups and downs. This is one of the difficult times.”
Nancy
regretted talking so honestly about her
problems. “But, Junie, the important thing is that Todd and I deeply heart each
other and we’re committed to the success of our marriage. So please don’t take
the things I said seriously.” She forced a little laugh and said, “No one takes
anything I say seriously anyway.”

“I have to go, but promise you’ll call
later me if you need to talk.”

“Why don’t we get together for lunch? Or
dinner? My schedule’s open.”

“I’d love that, but work’s so intense
right now. I barely have time to breath,” Junie said, but
Nancy
could hear her dramatic little intakes
of air. “I am sneaking out of the office for an appointment with your hair stylist
tomorrow.”

“You will adore her. She’s the Leonardo
DiCaprio of hair design.”

“Do you mean Leonardo da Vinci?”

Nancy
sighed. Junie was as linguistically
limited as Todd. “No, DiCaprio, all windblown, I-am-the-king-of-the-worldish.”

Nancy
ran water for a bath, thinking that her
conversation with Junie had extremely well. She’d set the right tone for this
separation, making it sound friendly and professional, like a sophisticated
bi-coastal marriage without the annoying luggage searches.

Nancy
slid into the steamy water, looked at
the immaculate white tiled room and the snowy white towels aligned on the
gleaming chrome towel bars. Would she, could she ever convince Todd that
perfection was both achievable and desirable? she wondered as she sunk deeper
in the tub.

Nancy
ordered a writing table and chair
(cabriole legs and a simple leaf motif) and now all she needed was someone who
complemented her décor as perfectly as the Gino Sarfatti steel tube and
chromium chandelier complemented her furniture. She was pleasantly surprised
when a new laptop and phone were delivered.

Nancy
called Todd that evening to thank him,
but he didn’t answer, so she left a message. Now he could stay at the office as
late as he liked and hang out with his buddies to his heart’s content.

Nancy
contacted her closest friends, those in
her bridal party, to announce that she was back in the city and had a window of
opportunity for spa days, lunches, shows and shopping. They seemed happy to
hear from her, but explained that they were so incredibly busy. They left her
with vague promises that they would call soon.

Well,
Nancy
had important things to do, too,
including orchestrating the party for her social godmother, Gigi Barton. Gigi,
heiress to the Barton’s tissue paper fortune, had hosted
Nancy
and Todd’s wedding. Gigi hadn’t seemed
to like Todd, but she did like parties, and now
Nancy
had to make sure that every detail was
flawless.

The event was only a week away, and
Nancy
quickly became so
engrossed her planning that she went for 15 minutes at a time without thinking
about her marriage.

She also went over her finances. She had
enough cash in her personal account to live comfortably for about three months,
the time she planned to stay here. By the end of that time, she’d be earning
income from Froth and wouldn’t need to withdraw money from the accounts she
shared with Todd.
 

On Monday morning, after
Nancy
had had her first
low-fat cappuccino of the day, she dressed in a vintage ink blue Valentino silk
suit with an ivory collar, bow closures, and a knee-length skirt. She wore them
with new, black suede pumps.

She had positioned her own writing table
so that the indirect light from the bay window was most flattering to her
golden and rose coloring. She’d even practiced smiling in a way intended to be
friendly, but authoritative.

The first person who came for an
interview was chewing gum and wearing such hellish hippie shoes that
Nancy
didn’t want her to
befoul the hand-knotted rug on her hardwood floor.

The second person bragged that she’d
held her own wedding at a theme park. She described the event as “magical.”
Nancy
rushed through the
interview trying not to shudder visibly.

She was feeling disheartened when it was
time to interview the third applicant.