White Dresses by Mary Pflum Peterson

Author:Mary Pflum Peterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

LWS (Little White Suit)

June 1999

I stood in the Benetton boutique in Atlanta’s Lenox Mall, perplexed. I needed one more suit for my upcoming trip to California. Problem was, after spending the better part of the day at the mall, I couldn’t seem to find It.

When I accepted the position as a rookie reporter for CNN Newsroom, a program designed with the intent of enabling young recruits like me to cut their TV journalist teeth, I was told investing in a few good suits was part of the job. And not just any suits. They had to be suits that looked good on camera. I had a red suit. And a black one. And a black suit with red stripes. But I required one more—­something for my upcoming shoot on the set of the hit teen soap Beverly Hills, 90210. I needed something that, in the words of one of my favorite cameramen, would “pop.”

I was twenty-­three and still getting used to the world of TV news. I’d dreamed of becoming a journalist since I was a little girl. And now that the dream was becoming a reality—­real assignments! hair and makeup! nights at the anchor desk!—­it all felt surreal. I had my own car. A boyfriend. I even had my own checking and savings ­accounts. Best of all, I had my own space. My own space in a historic old duplex in downtown Atlanta. Even my own walk-in closet. It was so different from Beaver Dam. For the first time in my life, I could move the thermostat as I pleased. I had heat! There were no stacks of unopened mail, no plastic bags full of junk, no broken appliances. For the first time in my life, I was in control.

And this, I hoped, was just the beginning. I didn’t want Atlanta to be my last stop. If things went well, CNN Center would be a stepping-­stone to more exotic locations, to ever-­bigger adventures. I worked for CNN. CNN! It was the world’s news leader. I worked for the same organization that employed Chris­tiane Amanpour, the bravest of female war correspondents. My next stop, I hoped, would be the far reaches of Europe. Maybe even the Middle East.

But to conquer those places I had to first conquer the fictitious Brandon and Kelly and the set of Beverly Hills, 90210. And to conquer Brandon and Kelly, I needed one more suit.

Walking past a collection of floral sundresses, I ran my hand across the fabric of a powder-­blue suit on one rack then a gray suit on another. Those were all right, but they wouldn’t jump through the screen the way I wanted them to, or the way others would expect them to. The camera, I was quickly learning, loved certain colors and certain fabrics more than others.

“If you’re looking for a suit, we also have something in white,” said a voice from behind me.

I turned to meet the eyes of an attractive blond saleswoman. She was a few years older than me and wore a floral shift.

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