Just like the old days

Back when we were roommates in boarding school, Burr, Nish and I sometimes indulged in a dressing-up frenzy for no reason at all other than the joy of dressing up. We'd throw all our formal clothes together in common pile, and then spend the entire evening taking turns dressing in various combinations of the tops, skirts and dresses. We'd fuss over what shoes went with each of our outfits, do each others' make-up, and style eachothers' hair. And then, narcissistic and smug as we were in those days, we'd pretend we were models and do little catwalk struts and pirouettes, and take pictures of eachother in simulated photo shoots. I have fond memories of those occasional evenings, of the girlie chats and constant banter, and most of all, the wild, hysterical laughter.

Yesterday, I had a chance to relive those girlie moments. Jeet, Mannipenny and I were getting ready to go out to meet friends in a bar in the city. "Guys!" I wailed, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, "My hair's looking awful, it's all frizzy!" Mannipenny rushed into the bathroom looking ready for emergency. For the last ten minutes, she had been switching back and forth between two tops that were now lying abandoned on the bed, and appraising herself critically in each outfit.

"Here, I'll fix it for you," she assured me, pulling out her hairdryer, a couple of hairsprays and a straightening iron. "All it takes is a bit of this and that, and we'll have it looking all glossy and sleek in five minutes.
"So," she said, as she gathered wisps of my hair and started straightening them with the iron, "What's the verdict? Orange top or the the brown one?"

Just then Jeet burst into the room. "Guys, I'm in panic! What do I do with my hair?! And what about this belt, does it go? I mean, it goes with my top, but with these shoes??!"

"Leave your hair curly," Mannipenny and I chimed in unison. "And the belt does go with the shoes," I added. "It looks good."

We were like a mutual reassurance committee, supporting eachother and buoying eachothers' spirits. A few minutes later we were all heading out the door, our makeup-hair-bags-shoes-clothes all having gone through multiple levels of scrutiny and amendment. It had been an evening of sororal bonding. The party was fun, but the getting ready was much better.

I'll miss Mannipenny when she leaves to go back to Indiana next week.