I was too embarrassed to tell my private 'stylist' that I was shopping for my wedding dress, as I was here on my own.
'What are you looking for?' she asked me. I suspected she was suspicious of whether I'd have enough money to pay for a dress.
'Something formal,' I said. 'It's actually for a friend's wedding. It's going to be very formal and everyone has to wear white. It's kind of like a theme.'
She took my measurements and told me to wait on the Florence Broadhurst-print, velvet couch, in my private dressing room. Another lady, dressed in a maid's outfit and a mini top hat, brought in a silver tray with two teacups and some miniature cakes. When she saw that I was alone, she took one of the teacups away.
I sat and waited, sipping on the tea and tasting a couple of the cakes.
I'd been waiting years for this experience, to have a private viewing at Baby, The Stars Shine Bright, yet it felt empty. Millie should've been there. But I hadn't seen Millie since she got back from her honeymoon. She was too busy 'setting up house'.
I took note of what I'd have to tell Millie about the store. I tried to memorise the shape of the gold-gilded frame around the mirror and the luxurious feel of the fabric on the couch I was sitting upon. I reminded myself to tell Millie about my stylist's hairstyle. She was wearing her hair in pigtails beside her ears and her hair had been curled into ringlets. I wanted to try the hairstyle as soon as I got home.
The first dress I tried on was stunning - crisp white cotton with a high neck, white lace in a V-shape on the bodice, a large white bow at the waist. The shoulders had sheer fabric with two delicate red ribbons, tied in a bow. The back of the dress was gathered up to reveal three layers of red netting and white lace. My 'stylist' brought me a headdress and a pair of white leather ankle boots, then she felt me alone to admire myself in the 4-way mirror.
I felt fantastic in this outfit. I turned around in the mirror, appreciating different views of the sculptural form of the dress. I tried tying my hair in pigtails and twirling my hair around my finger, but it fell limply back down to my shoulders.
I could hear two girls chatting in the change room next to mine.
'Oh my God, you look so marvellous. I can't believe it. Really, you look marvellous,' one of them was gushing.
'Really?' the other girl said.
'Absolutely. It will be love at first sight. He's going to love you in this.'
The girl laughed, 'oh, come on mum.'
'Mum'? The girl's mother was there, supporting her in a choice of a wedding dress at a Lolita store and they were talking like they were friends? Her mother wasn't ashamed of the clothes she wore? Instead, she was encouraging her?
I had an urge to see what this mother looked like. I poked my head through the curtains. I could only see the shapes of the two of them moving in the slit of the curtains next door.
I looked back at myself in the mirror. Suddenly I felt like a governess from the 18th century. Perhaps the high neck was too rigid and the bodice was unflattering. It was lonely having no one there to reassure me.
Yet, I knew if my mother was there, she wouldn't have been reassuring me. She would have been doing the opposite to reassuring.
My stylist whispered from the other side of the curtain, 'I've got another dress for you to try on. Are you ready?'
'Sure, I'm ready.'
She came into the dressing room quietly and hung a second dress on a stainless steel hook and then she disappeared again.
When I slipped the dress over my head, and did up the side-zip, I looked in the mirror and knew instantly that was the dress for me.
It was a white, empire-waist dress, with a thick pink ribbon around the waist. The scooped neckline and short sleeves were perhaps a little more revealing that some Lolita purists would accept, but I was completely and utterly under the spell of this dress.
The stylist handed me some short white lace gloves, an Alice in Wonderland headband, a pair of narrow Mary Jane shoes and a white faux fur shrug. It was all perfect. And it wasn't too over-the-top Lolita. Even my mother would be happy with it.
I told the stylist I would buy it all, as well as a matching pair of white bloomers.
After she swiped my identity card and processed the transaction, she handed my card back to me and said, 'Enjoy the big day.' I realised she'd been on to me all along.