Teddy Spenser Isn't Looking for Love - Kim Fielding Page 0,87
don’t have anything.” The guy eyed the front door but didn’t quite make a move toward it. Instead he sighed. “I was kinda hoping to update my wardrobe a little. Be less boring. But you—you’re probably geared for people who are younger, skinnier, and hipper than me. Like that man over there.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Is he a model or actor or something?”
Teddy cast a quick look at Romeo, who was sitting in one of the leather armchairs near the back of the store, peering at his phone. “Nope,” Teddy said. “He’s a software engineer. And my husband. He got off work early and he’s waiting until we go out to dinner. Valentine’s Day, you know.”
“Right. Um, that, uh, shirt he’s wearing...”
Romeo looked scrumptious in skinny charcoal-colored jeans, a form-fitting red camisole in lace-covered satin, and a dark Armani blazer in a traditional men’s cut. He must have sensed them staring at him because he glanced up, gave an amused wave, and turned his attention back to the phone.
“Not something most men would wear, huh? But doesn’t it look great on him?” Teddy loved how some of the more traditionally feminine fabrics and cuts flattered Romeo’s physique. And Romeo enjoyed having some of these items in his wardrobe. He said he liked the way he felt when he wore them.
The customer sighed again. “I couldn’t pull off a look like that.”
Teddy grinned—it was time for The Speech. He always jumped at the chance to share the philosophy behind his store. “That’s not the point, though. Maybe Romeo’s style isn’t yours because you’re two different people. What I want to do is help you find the clothes that best suit you. Not what you think other people will like, but the things that are going to make you feel fabulous. And you know what? As long as you feel comfortable and confident, as long as you feel like your outfit is a positive reflection of your personality, you can pull any look off.”
The guy was pinching his chin thoughtfully. He wasn’t quite convinced, but he wasn’t running for the door either. “My personality. Well, I’m a lawyer for Conagra.”
“That’s what you do for a living, not who you are. Are you looking for work clothes?”
“Nah. Stuff for when Amber and I go out. Not super fancy or anything.” He shrugged. “Dinner, a show. In a couple of weeks we’re going to Vegas for her birthday.”
“Got it. Smart casual.”
“You got a section for that?” The man glanced around.
“Not a section, but I have plenty of items that’ll work. Let’s think about your overall look, though.”
“That’s where I’m lost.”
Teddy inspected him carefully. The man wore a Burberry trench coat and a suit that had probably set him back five or six hundred bucks, but the only statement it made was Corporate Dress Code. His shirt was plain white and his tie was black with little white splotches. Ah, but that tie... Teddy leaned in for a closer inspection and saw that the white splotches were actually tiny skulls.
“Nice tie,” he said.
The man lifted the end of it. “A present from Amber.”
“Uh-huh. What do you like to do in your free time?”
“Don’t have much of that. I play golf when the weather’s good. I’m a big Bears fan.”
Not much help there, Teddy thought. No way was he going to dress this man in a polo shirt or football jersey. Hmm. But there was something about that tie. “What music do you listen to?”
The guy seemed a little embarrassed. “Old stuff. I wouldn’t recognize anyone on the charts nowadays. Now, back in the day I was into the Ramones, Television, the Clash. I even played guitar in a garage band in high school. We sucked.” He laughed.
Bingo.
The man ended up with a sizable dent in his credit card and several bulging bags to show for it. Teddy had set him up with a leather moto jacket, an evening jacket with black satin lapels, some vintage jeans, a red tartan scarf, a skinny black tie, and several other items. All he needed to complete a vacation’s worth of punk-inspired outfits was a pair of Chucks or combat boots. Most importantly, though, by the time he’d modeled the third or fourth outfit Teddy chose for him, the guy was strutting across the shop floor, his daytime-corporate-attorney persona forgotten. He was humming “Anarchy in the UK” as he left the store.