“NO one looks good in orange, Trish.”
“Oh mother. I look good in orange.”
“No. It makes your skin look green. Hell, it makes everyone’s skin look green.” She took a long drag on her cigarette.
“But it’s my favorite color.”
“Be that as it may, you want to look good, don’t you? Or do you WANT to look like a Martian?”
“It is the ‘it’ color this fall, madame,” said the store clerk, holding up two fluffy orange dresses for Trish to look at. “Perhaps this one? It’s a little more pink? More toward salmon?”
The dress was beautiful. Ballet length with wide chiffon “straps” that rode below the shoulder.
“It’s something Audrey Hepburn would wear,” rhapsodized the clerk.
“Trish here is a LONG way from Audrey Hepburn,” said mother. “So you want to try it, honey?”
But Trish had lost interest. Shopping with her mother was never any fun. “I don’t know mom. I don’t know what I want.”
“Do you want to give up for today? We still have two weeks before prom.”
“Yeah. I don’t think I want to do this any more.”
“Thanks for your help,” the mother said to the clerk. “She’s pretty picky. Always been like that. Nothing is ever quite good enough.”