Welcome to the intro video
and an excerpt from the twenty-second post of my weekly serial, “Sketches from
the Café Confictura.” If you’d like to share a comment, please use the comment option at the end of this excerpt. To follow the mystery of Applewood, and get
recipes from Mrs. Creaverton, writing advice from Roscoe Belesprit, and fashion
tips from the Fastionista, please visit www.ClarissaJeanne.com for new posts
every Tuesday at 2:30 p.m. EST.
One Saturday
morning a couple weeks back, we were all canvassing one of Speroton’s
neighborhoods for the Loggins campaign. Violet had split off from her
canvassing partner because, in Violet’s words, “her shoes were from 1993 and I
doubt they were even in style then.” (Note: They weren’t from 1993. Maybe her
partner just got the shoes at a really good sale, and maybe her partner thinks
it’s stupid for anyone to care what shoes look like as long as they’re
comfortable, especially when all you’re doing is walking door to door. Okay,
yes, fine. It was me. I’m the one with the 1993 shoes. Whatever.)
But, as Violet
told us all later that day back at Confictura, I wasn’t the only one offending
her fashion senses that morning. When Mona Wilkinson answered her door, Violet
introduced herself, and fought the instinct to shield her eyes. Poor Mona
looked like a walking brick with fringe. She wore all red, from her fedora, to
her long, baggy sweater (made longer by said fringe), to her wide-legged pants.
In the middle of Violet’s spiel about Loggins, Fashion Furby, from Violet’s
purse, took one look at Mona through its black-framed glasses and asked, “What
happened to all your curves, young lady?”
Speroton, like
Applewood, is of course another small town in Connecticut, which means they’re
just as used to haunted things as we are.
Mona explained
to them both, “I saw a movie about Coco Chanel. Her whole look was androgynous.
Straight lines, ‘boyfriend’ cuts. It’s all inspired by her vision.”
Violet, after
her obligatory curtsy at the Almighty Chanel’s name, said, “Oui, but you
are tall and so slender. You do not want to show this off? You are a model.
There are ways to wear the straight lines, but a woman never wants to hide all
her femininity. I can give you a little advice, if you’d like.”
As always,
Violet’s genuine way of seeing people’s most flattering attributes won the day.
Mona smiled bashfully, and invited Violet in for coffee. Twenty minutes later,
Violet was in front of Mona’s closet, or “the fringe and fur factory,” as
Violet put it later. Practically every piece screamed so loud it was all Violet
could do not to cringe and take cover.
She gave Mona a
crash course in pairing complementary, not matching, pieces: straight-leg pants
with a longer sweater; a faux-wrap blouse, cinched at the waist, with the
wide-legged pants. “Et, we wear only one, eh, statement piece at a time.
Too many statements all at once means you won’t be able to understand any of
them clearly. And let’s examine maybe not wearing monochrome outfits.”
All of Violet’s
advice, along with one example outfit she put together for Mona, went into her
To-Go that week, which I’ve posted here. While Mona was changing, and Violet
was in the kitchen finishing her coffee, Furby whispered to Violet, “She’s
going to invite you. Don’t go. It’s dangerous.”
Violet didn’t
have to wait long to find out what Furby meant. Mona walked into the kitchen,
hand outstretched. “Here,” she said. “It’s an extra VIP pass to Paltrune’s
rally today. My friend from work is trying to sway me. I can’t make up my mind
between him and Loggins. You have to come with me; it’s my way of thanking you
for your advice.”
“But I am firmly
behind Loggins,” said Violet. “And, besides this, I live in Applewood. I cannot
vote in Speroton.”
“I’ve heard his
rallies are legendary. You never know what’s going to happen. You keep your
phone handy, you might just catch a scuffle, and then you can send it in to
Channel 2 News and they’ll play it.”
“Well,” said
Violet, “who can miss carnage and their fifteen seconds of fame all in one neat
package?” Violet's sarcasm is dry as sand, so poor Mona just nodded and smiled
at the comment. Really, Violet was happy to finally get the chance of seeing
what commonality an undecided saw in both Loggins and Paltrune.
Quietly, from
Violet’s purse, Furby mumbled, “Uh-oh.”
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