Pussy by Regena Thomashauer

Author:Regena Thomashauer
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Hay House
Published: 2015-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

SHE ELEVATES HERSELF

I knew, deep inside my cells, that this school was going to be huge. I might have been teaching classes of 12 women, but I knew that someday it would be hundreds, if not thousands. I knew the groundwork had to be laid and the stage set. I noticed that all headmistresses of elite institutions had something in common: each had a large portrait of herself hanging in the parlor. I decided that having a portrait painted of myself was the essential next move, stepping into my role as the headmistress of the courtesan academy.

One of my clients, Caroline, was a well-known portrait painter. I negotiated a trade of services with her—she would get an intensive coaching course with me, and I would get a portrait to hang over the fireplace in the brownstone.

It wasn’t until the day before my sitting that I started to think about what I was going to wear. Glancing through my collection of mommy jeans and nursing tops, I started to panic. I called my best friend, Marcie, who didn’t skip a beat. “We’ll go to Bergdorf’s,” she announced. Now, I was this little hippie chick pretending to be the head of the courtesan academy. I’d never heard of Bergdorf Goodman, so I had no idea it was one of the most expensive boutiques in New York City. The next morning, Marcie guided me into the hallowed halls of Bergdorf’s. I had never, ever seen anything so beautiful as this little jewel box of a department store. Each item perfectly selected and perfectly displayed. The building itself was magnificent—all marble and chandeliers. It felt exactly as reverential and holy as I always wanted it to feel inside of a church. If they had charged admission I would have gladly paid.

Marcie found a salesperson who put me in a dressing room and began bringing in clothes by the armload. Marcie waved off the pants and blouses, and instead asked for evening gowns. The saleswoman came back with a Mary McFadden gown that was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The top was beaded in gold, teal, sea foam, cranberry, and silver, with a portrait neckline. The bottom was pleated silk Fortuny fabric, in a gorgeous combination of teal and sea-foam green. Alchemy happened the moment I zipped into that dress. I looked in the mirror and suddenly before me I saw Mama Gena. I was her. I saw my creation; I was my creation.

Then, I saw the price tag.

I was suddenly flushed, hot, inebriated. I felt the oxygen leave the dressing room. This dress was my ticket to everything I longed for, my ticket to being what I wanted to become.

And it cost $6,000.

And Bruce and I were barely making rent.

The moment the saleswoman stepped out of the dressing room, Marcie explained to me a custom of wealthy women. She said that rich ladies buy dresses, wear them once with the price tag on, and return them the next day. She told me this was a widely accepted practice, and I should not be embarrassed or feel bad.

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