Well Behaved Wives(32)

“I’ve been helping housewives build their wardrobes for fifteen years,” Maryanne said. “I worked at John Wanamaker’s until 1958, and I’ve been here since. I know this inventory like the back of my hand.”

“She does, girls. You can trust Maryanne completely.” Lillian held Maryanne in high esteem, not only for her taste, but for her knowledge and honesty. Lillian hadn’t realized until then that women had likely regarded her mother in the same way.

Even Ruth was pointing at the collages, whispering, and nodding.

“I assume you obtained your husband’s permission to put your choice on his account, or that you have a check already signed,” Lillian said. She had her secret coffee can, but it was filled with Peter’s cash. She’d have to earn money, open a bank account, and write checks to have any real power. But she’d need Peter’s permission to do her own banking—so where was the autonomy?

“I’m window-shopping,” Carrie said. “I hope that’s okay. I like Eli to choose my clothes.”

“He does a good job,” Irene said.

“Don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Harriet said. “I’m sure if my fiancé doesn’t approve, I’ll return it, even though I have my father’s check today.”

Ruth scoffed. Lillian gave her a hard look. That’s the way things were. Men—husbands—controlled the money.

“Whatever arrangements or understandings you have are fine,” Lillian said. “I’m here to make things easier for you, not harder.”

“We thought we’d have a little fun,” Maryanne said. “There are three suggested ensembles already in the dressing rooms for each of you. We’re going to play a little game.”

“To help you learn to choose appropriately for different occasions,” Lillian said, “we’d like you to select the right outfit for meeting your friends for lunch at Wanamaker’s in Center City. Not that there’s anything wrong with a picnic. We just weren’t thinking of a park when we chose the clothes.”

“A park is more realistic for me,” Irene said, a nod to her four kids.

“Well, yes. I imagine it might be.” Lillian had always made time for lunch. Weekend babysitters had been a sacred part of their lives. Peter had insisted, though it seemed like a luxury. “Just play along for today. Or imagine their father agrees to babysit.”

Irene cackled. “That’s a hoot.”

Ruth opened her mouth, then shut it as if she’d changed her mind, then opened it again. “My father raised me and my brothers. I don’t think he ever called it babysitting.”

Lillian had never thought to call it anything else.

“That’s different,” Harriet said. “If you’d had a mother, things would have been different.”

Lillian knew Harriet meant that for Ruth. But it also hit Lillian hard. Either way it wasn’t very nice.

Ruth crossed her arms and drew her shoulders up to her ears.

“Harriet!” Carrie said. “Shush!”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Lillian said. “The matter at hand is the clothes, not anyone’s family configuration.” Somehow what should have been a fun day had gotten derailed. She was determined to get it back on track. “Find your dressing rooms, girls.”

“Take your time,” Maryanne said, lightening the mood. “Ask one another’s opinions and talk it over. Remember, two heads are better than one.”

“We chose the outfits with the latest styles in mind,” Lillian said. Boldness coursed through her as she remembered her younger self, bopping around a dressing room, unaware of the social ramification of her choices.

Those were the days. Oblivious. And yet they’d given her a freedom that had drained away over the passing years.

“If there is an item or outfit not to your taste, speak up. Maryanne will find an alternative. You won’t hurt our feelings.” There. Lillian was offering them choices.

She wished someone had said that to her when she was in her twenties; instead, she mimicked others and adopted a popular style. Now the girls she taught adopted her style. She had always felt flattered, as if they’d been presented with options and they’d chosen her.

“I’m all for independent thought,” Ruth said. “But I don’t know fashion at all.”

In this moment, the leader wanted to follow. Lillian found that intriguing.

“You can trust our choices and still listen to your intuition. It’s important to look good but also to feel good in your clothes. That’s how you’ll find your own style.” This wisdom emerged from deep inside Lillian, erupted from a corner she hadn’t known existed. She wanted to jot down her own words so she didn’t forget them.

The girls scattered into the dressing rooms marked with their names. Maryanne straightened the chairs and moved the empty clothes racks into position. One for discarded items. One for purchases headed to the cashier and her commission.





Chapter 13


RUTH

Ruth pushed through the dressing room door that bore a clean, white paper with her name on its front. Once inside, she came nose to clothes with the outfits Lillian and Maryanne had chosen for her. Ruth stood there in awe, then swept her hand across the fabrics. So many different textures. Nubby. Scratchy. Slinky. Soft.