carol

Carol taking me shopping today.  She's come back into my life with a vengence, tossing me a Bar Mitvah life raft in my hour of need. She’s my one college friend with a kid Ben’s age, her son’s Bar mitzvah just last year, and different from me, she seems to revel in the planning.  So each morning we check in, decide which store in the Short Hills Mall to meet, to begin the search for red shoes with that most rarified half-inch heel, neckless for the v-neck dress, stockings, a black bra.

We first met at Rutgers College, my last year there. She was interviewing roommates for her off-campus apartment and after talking for hours about the NJ Jewish Y camp where we both had gone, she since childhood, me following what would become an unrequited love at age nineteen, asked me to move in.  Each day we’d talk late into the night, go on egg diets together, sit on her bed as she'd strum Bob Dillon tunes, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders. Eventually I’d introduce her to her own unrequited love, my brother Paul, whom she'd date for years.  She would become like a sister to me and though over the years we'd lost some of our closeness, in the last week she had morphed once again into my closest friend.  Only she was making me tense.  Over the years we both had perfected our type A personalities but it seemed she had pushed hers to new heights.  She was on a mission, Ben's Bar Mitzvah mission, and would drive an hour from Freehold to turn her laser focus onto my daily list.  Only problem, each day that went by, I'd look over the things we had purchased together and realize it wasn't going to work.  We didn't share the same taste, actually neither of us had the best taste.  But Betsy, the sales girl from Neiman Marcus did, so each time Carol and I would say goodby, I'd take the elevator up to Betsy and show her what we had bought and she'd shake her head no. 

"Those shoes--not with that dress.  You're looking way too Chanel with that Kate Spade block heel, you need to be more Audrey Hepburn.  You need a pointy heel.  Try a kitten pump.  And forget red.  You want black. Try Stuart Weizman, downstairs to the right. "

... a few days later, "It's a cute neckless, perfect with a white tee shirt, but not for your dress.  Actually forget a neckless, earrings should be your focus."

I had to tell Carol.  Not an option to have her sitting at the temple watching in horror as I approach the bima in pointy black shoes, sans neckless.  But it wouldn't be easy, considering how many  stores she had pulled me into, how thrilled she was with each and every score, as though our wayward boat had finally reached land.  I knew I was turning into mince meat, agreeing with her mostly to reconnect, to feel the warm glow of our long lost college friendship. I had to be honest with her.  A few days later I called her.

"Carol, I have something to tell you. Betsy, you remember Betsy, from Neiman, well she said the shoes and neckless were wrong for the dress. And well, let's face it, she does this for a living. But I'm keeping the neckless, even she loved it, just not with the dress."

"Lori, it's not a problem. I understand. Are you keeping the shoes?"

"No, I returned them today."

"Oh, good."

I love Carol, I want to hug her. But there's something else I have to tell her, even more painful.

"And Carol, I asked Ben if he minded you coming by at 7:30 the morning of his Bar Mitzvah to oversee my hair and makeup. He thought it would be awkward."

"Lori, that's fine, I understand, he doesn't see that much of me. No problem."

I tell myself, it's these little things that I'm so grateful for in this Bar Mitzvah process.  Carol back in my life is worth this entire stressed-out process. I truly forgot how important she is to me, how much we have in common, how much I missed her.  I trust her with my life, in all things important, fashion not being one of them.