Parsons Betch: Fashion and Finance

Against the glass cases in the Chanel section at Saks Fifth Avenue, I held back giggles thinking about him. I can’t pass the glossy quilted handbags without recalling how I sprinted across Fifth Avenue, past eager pedicabs and limousines, in my black ballet flats, feeling a pang under the ball of my foot.

It all happened before my date with A, a junior at Princeton University. With a twirl of a curl and a shot of hairspray, my cab stopped short. I paid my fare and hopped out the door. But once that cab left, I realized I was on the wrong side of the street.

Without A’s arm to grab, I would have to cross Fifth on my own. I wore the wrong shoes for this.

I popped a few breath mints and went for it. Then I dialed A. Turns out he was nearby, but looking the opposite way the whole time. I finally spotted him.

“You’re looking the wrong way honey!” I told him. He turned, and our eyes met like nothing I can forget.

He was so attractive in person. He was funny and knew how to dress.

And he knew how to surprise me. From right outside Saks Fifth Avenue, he led me to an undisclosed building on 45th Street.

“I thought I would take you somewhere you can’t normally go,” he told me from under the building’s facade. After he flashes a card, he added, “This is the Princeton Club.”

I am bad at hiding emotion. My jaw must have dropped for at least a minute.

We grabbed wine and made ourselves comfortable. A looked me up and down and complimented me on my dress. I’m wearing a velvet lace paneled dress from Urban Outfitters. I am the ultimate of high-low fashion. I was surprised the way he looked at me when I took my coat off.

I quickly get wine drunk. And I am so nervous I can’t finish my dinner, never mind breathe.

He finally kissed me on Fifth and 49th Street. His hair is so soft. His touch feels amazing…. his tongue, just the thought of it all over again is making my stomach flip all over…. there was electricity. Spine tingling, have to have you now… it was the kind of kiss that made me believe again.

A few blocks later, A looked at me and said… Up for a drink at the Plaza?

Was I really sitting in the Plaza next to an Ivy sipping a sidecar? This is hands down a moment for the books, I said in my head.

“Hashtag hedge fund guys… because I work at a hedge fund over the summer…. wait I got it #Fashion&Finance,” A said.

I wore three layers of spanx that night to stop myself from doing anything I might regret.

“We have a problem. I’m wearing three layers of spanx. You’ll have to help me out of these.”

“You’re a pistol, aren’t you?”

A put on a charming persona. But then when the dust settled, he was inattentive, pompous, and rude.

A few weeks later, I got an email stating that the effort he would have to put to continue to see me wasn’t worth his time or energy.

But the night seemed like it lasted forever. …

I couldn’t believe I beat the infamous waitlist. All because I was a tad, err aggressive?

I thought I would feel a little, how do I put this… nauseous… even a tad gross at this point. I’m about to purchase a handbag that costs more than my Nissan Altima.

I didn’t feel a twinge.

Okay, we can let you see your bag before we wrap it up to ship.

In the end I didn’t get the guy, but I got the Chanel. Clearly the better of the two…

The Princeton Prince ended up being a toad.

A, you gave me the best memory. His hair, the smell of his cologne… it was all intoxicating, as the stitching, the gold hardware on my classic jumbo.