Dorothy Is Back.

All through my pre-teens and my early teens I used to spend hours dying of boredom at various boutiques whilst my mother tried on dresses, pants, tops, shirts, blouses, whatever, and surrounded by an entourage of simpering salespeople. Through the self-absorbed pre-teen fog I noticed that most of the boredom was spent at 2 boutiques in particular, namely "Man And His Woman" and "Glamourette".

Glamourette was preferred because it had a white leather sofa and the staff once gave me a glass of Ribena Perrier. When my fidgeting and boredom threatened to distract my mother, they gave me full access to a cupboard full of Karl Lagerfeld watches, still in their original boxed casing, so that I could play blocks. A 9-year old. Playing with blocks. That's entertainment for you.

Then for some obscure reason (divorce, single mother with 3 kids), my mother stopped going to any boutiques at all and I came into my late 20s without interfacing again with Karl Lagerfeld-inspired blocks. Then 1 fine day, my mother gives me a deep blue lycra wrap top with fitted hoodie, so deviously put together that I need directions to put it on and it comes with a perfectly matched set of translucent white capri pants. That didn't fit. How the f am I going to wear this.

Take it to Dorothy at Glamourette, she said. Tell her that I sent you. Dorothy will take care of you.

So I'm supposed to walk into what I realise is one of the most expensive boutiques in town and look for a Dorothy? And then what?

Just go, said the mother.

So one day when my office was shifting premises and they had taken away my files, my telephone and finally my computer, thus making it truly impossible to get any work done, I stomped off in a huff to Glamourette.

I got exactly what I expected - after lurking around forever looking at super expensive tops, shirts, jeans, etc. I finally get a salewoman's attention and I ask for Dorothy. She points out an older woman who is engaged with a customer then wanders off and everyone seems very preoccupied until I say I am Dr Chan's daughter.

Freeze.

Suddenly, I am In like Flynn. I am the cat's pajamas. The bee's knees. Best thing since the white bread. Dorothy gives me a hug and kiss on both cheeks while leading me to a dressing room, taking out the clothes from my bag and asking someone to get me some water. There is the white leather sofa again, looking very very white despite the fact that almost 20 years have passed. I am "Dear", and I am inside a huge dressing room with a range of high heeled shoes (to match the outfits being tried on), a small sofa (to rest - trying on clothes is tiring stuff) and soft, warm, flattering yellow light everywhere.

Ok. The allotted 20 minutes for a blog entry are up. Till next time.