Couture Time Machine

by Catherine Stewart

Overview

How would you like to go back in time and visit a relative who has passed away? Sukey gets the opportunity to travel back in time and actually speak with her mom, who passed away several years ago. Who would have thought that a stores fitting room could be a time portal? Along the way, she encounters two menone very shady and one very cute. Also, she is very thankful that her (outspoken) best friend goes with her to save her from being stuck forever in the 1950s.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781496958860
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	12/16/2014
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	104
File size:	145 KB

About the Author

Couture Time Machine is Catherine’s first book. She is a voracious reader and has been quite interested in works about her home state of Michigan, as well as stories concerning time travel. Catherine lives in Michigan with her husband, who is also her high school sweetheart.

Couture Time Machine is Catherine’s first book. She is a voracious reader and has been quite interested in works about her home state of Michigan, as well as stories concerning time travel. Catherine lives in Michigan with her husband, who is also her high school sweetheart.

Read an Excerpt

Couture Time Machine

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By Catherine Stewart

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2014 Catherine Stewart
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4969-5887-7

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CHAPTER 1

Okay, I want to go on record and say that I know this story sounds crazy, but it really happened to me.

Let's start with me, which will set the stage. My name is Sukey well, not my real name ... my nickname, but it stuck, what can you do? I'm thirty-ish and live in the Midwest, Michigan to be specific. I have a good job with a large company (you've heard of it, I'm just not going to name it) that has amazing benefits. I'm in leadership, but my job is not really exciting, know what I mean? I'm not curing any diseases or helping right some terrible wrong just going through the motions Monday through Friday. I'm a brunette with shoulder length hair who is on the tall side, not really skinny, but not really fat either.... well, a couple parts are fat but I cover those up. I have a passion for clothes. Not just clothes. Shoes, jewelry, purses, and watches; lately I'm into vintage. Prowling the re-sale shops in the area is like a treasure hunt, and then you don't look like everyone else. It is in a Detroit re-sale shop where my crazy story begins.

CHAPTER 2

It started out like any random Saturday in May. "Mary? It's Sukey, would you like to go vintage shopping with me today?". I called my good friend Mary in hopes that I did not have to go alone. Mary and I have been friends for years, since high school actually. She is not really into the fashion thing like I am. "I guess ... I don't know why you would want to buy used clothes Suk, I just don't get it", she said. Mary is a little rough around the edges, that's why I like her so well; she will say whatever is on her mind, no filters at all. She and I are the same age, she is shorter than I am and has the cutest dish water blonde pixie haircut. "I told you I wash them or dry clean them after I buy them, some of the old stuff is so cool, the details and the tailoring are not to be believed", I hoped I had convinced her. "What's in it for me?" she asked. I coaxed her with her stomach, "I will buy you a fabulous lunch afterwards.... deal?", she agreed and we planned for me to pick her up at her place in Eastpointe. Eastpointe is on the way to the store so it worked out perfectly. Eastpointe was re-named in the early 1990's; it used to be called East Detroit, but it was not East of Detroit. If you go East of Detroit you either end up in the Detroit River or Canada, which is one of the reasons it received its new moniker I imagine. The store we are headed to is on Woodward Avenue in Detroit. It is on the same exact site as the old J.L. Hudson's Department Store. The resale shop is so avant garde, you never know what you might find on any given day, they receive new (well, really old) shipments in all the time from across the country. Some of my most coveted pieces were found at Vintage Togs on Woodward.

I mentioned Hudson's for a couple of reasons. One reason is because it was a very nice department store that saw its start in Detroit. The other reason is my Mom used to work there. My Mom always dressed well. She would have on a completely fabulous look for day, head to toe, and go to the A & P for groceries (or Wrigley's or Great Scott). Hmmm, that might be where I get it. She died about six years ago. She and I would frequent Macy's (today's version of Hudson's) and spend the morning bargain hunting and end up eating lunch there where my Mom would always order the Maurice salad. She would have loved Vintage Togs on Woodward. I miss her still.

I arrive at Mary's about ten in the morning and honk the horn of my Granada Red 1964 Buick Riviera (What? I mentioned that I was from Michigan right?). Mary comes bouncing out the front door and rolls her eyes at my car. Mary is from Illinois and does not understand all of the charms of people from Michigan. Most people here do not have just one car, most people here only buy cars from the big three, and most people here have at least one old car. Also, most people here only buy from one car company, and for me it's General Motors. "Old car? Old clothes make sense then I guess" she says with a sarcastic smile on her cute little face. "Very funny" I say as I squeal the tires, and we're off. I tell her that Vintage Togs on Woodward is on the exact spot as the old Hudson's Department store. "Tell me why that's important", she says. No filters, remember. So I remind her that my Mom worked there for years, and it was THE store to shop at. At one time it was the tallest department store in the world, and it encompassed an entire city block with more than two million square feet. It was grand in scale, but also grand in its furnishings. The bank of brass tone elevators where you could see the all of the working parts would take your breath away as a kid, and there were white gloved elevator operators that ran them – such class. Unfortunately in 1998 it was demolished, which nearly broke my Mom's heart.

I was singing along with Bob Seger's Roll Me Away as we pulled into the parking lot. Vintage Togs on Woodward is a fairly large shop for a resale store. The minute you walk in the door there is a pleasant smell that reminds me of a library; old books. They also have this fantastic large old chandelier that hangs above the selling floor. "What exactly are you looking for?" Mary asks me. I respond with "Whatever speaks to me" which gets me another eye roll from Mary. I leave Mary to look at purses, or as my Mom called them pocketbooks and head straight to the couture section looking for buried treasure.

I am browsing through the dresses, and my hands encounter some of the most beautiful fabrics. I linger on more than one satin creation. Then I see it, and it's a size 8, hooray! It is a 1950's style dress for day. Looks like something one would wear to tea, I must have it. It is sea foam green, and, and, and now Mary is pulling on my arm. I look at her with contempt, "What?". She motions to this guy across the store and says, "See that cute guy, he is totally checkin' you out, hasn't taken his eyes offa you. Look ... right now". I look at him, and sure enough is he cute, and he is looking at me. I'm never sure about men and what their intentions are. Yes, he is looking at me, but is he considering how much I look like his sister? Does he think I'm funny looking and have a big forehead or something? Or, is he truly interested in me and that is why he is looking? I go back to what piqued my interest, the green dress. "Mary, look at this dress, isn't it gorgeous?". She says, "That would look fab on you, you must try it on. Let's try and find some shoes and other stuff to go with it, so when you try it on you have a complete outfit." "What a great idea", I say and just like that I grab the dress and we are off to the shoes. By the way, that guy was bookish, really tall and cute – just my type.

CHAPTER 3

In the shoe area I am drawn to a pair of plain pumps with a rather pointed toe, they are cream colored and fabric, almost a bridesmaid dye-able type of shoe in size 7. The right shoe has a stain on the heel, probably from driving. No matter, I'm just trying them on for effect. One of the store employees approaches and asks, "Would you like me to start a fitting room for you?". "Yes, thanks" I reply. She tells me her name and that my selections will be in the last fitting room on the right. "You know what you need now?" Mary asks. "I have no earthly idea", I reply. "Other than that fine looking guy.....your outfit needs a hat, don't you think?". I say, "Yes to the hat, no to the guy". The hats are rather uninspired. There are some berets, but I associate those with the 60's or 70's. There are some with netting over the face, which is very cute, but not really my style. And then I see two that just might do the job. One is an oval shaped straw hat without a brim; it is a golden color with three small straw bows on the top, so chic. The other is looks like a flying saucer and is lavender, they would both look cute with the dress. Of course Mary has to put in her two cents. "Neither of them are green, the dress is green, your hat needs to match" she says. I remind her yet again that not all of the items that make up your look need to be in the same color family, it looks too matchy-matchy. Either of these two hats will go with the green dress. "Which one do you like more?" I ask her. She likes the golden straw number. I agree and head toward the fitting room handing my purse to Mary to hold for me. Over my shoulder I tell her "Stay right here, I will put this whole look together and come out to show you, be back in a jiff". She mumbles something about me showing her the look and showing someone else. I ignore her reference to the cute guy and head toward the last fitting room on the right. I did not know it at the time, of course, but that fitting room was about to change me ... change my life ... forever from that day forward (Wow that was a bold statement). I walked to the fitting room and turned the door knob as I entered.

CHAPTER 4

The fitting room was quite pretty, it had flowered wall paper on the walls, five large brass hooks to hang my selections on, a generous three way mirror and two cute little chairs. The chairs looked vintage, like they belonged in front of a makeup table in a smart French ladies home from the 50's or 60's. They were both mauve moiré silk and were so cute, they were the kind of chair that had a skirt that went to the floor, very girly. The back of the chair was tufted with fabric buttons. I took a moment to look for a price tag. I then remembered why I was here and set about changing into the dress. This dress is so adorable; it has capped sleeves, a sea foam green underskirt, with an overskirt that is sheer cream chiffon with a delicate repeated flower design. It has a full 1950's skirt with darts on the bodice and a wide green satin sash. I step into the sweet dress and it fits like a dressmaker made it for me. I can't help but smile in the mirror. I imagine the chic woman who bought this dress wore it with a string of pearls, so cute. I am looking at myself in the three way mirror, turning left, turning right; the feel of the satin sash around my waist is so soft. Next the shoes, which don't seem exactly right with the dress, but they are the best option in the store. They fit, but are very pointy, not something that I would traditionally wear – I remind myself that this is just for fun. With the shoes on I stand a little straighter, shoulders back, this is definitely a feminine look. Should I show Mary now? Oh, right, the hat. I grab the hat and check it out on the underside. It has two combs that will help anchor it to my hair. I sit in one of the adorable chairs with a flourish, poised to put on the hat. I place the hat on my head, and what happens next is difficult to describe.

I find that I have fallen forward and I am now on my hands and knees. I feel as though I've had the wind knocked out of me, I literally cannot breathe. I'm blinking, my vision is not perfectly clear. What is going on? I take a gulp of air, and another, and find I am panting as if I've just run the fifty yard dash. My heart is racing. My vision clears and I look at my reflection in the mirror. I am quite pale. I close my eyes and take a couple more breaths. What the heck is going on? I sit back on my heels and look around. Things are not quite right. The fitting room door is now a red velvet curtain, how can that be? I close and open my eyes again. My heart is still racing. I hear voices. I hear a female employee in the fitting room talking to a customer. There was no one else in the fitting room area when I came in. The customer leaves. Now I hear one female employee talking to another. "Midge did you see who that was? That last customer was Mrs. Dodge. I just waited on Mrs. Dodge!". The other employee exclaimed, "Oh my stars". Their voices faded as they left the fitting room area. Who says "Oh my stars" anymore? That's odd. I crawl over to the curtain and peak out. I am the only person in the fitting room area. I am trying to process what exactly is going on. I hear bells or tones overhead – like what you would hear in an old time department store. I also smell a strong cotton smell, like brand new clothes. I see a sign through the parted curtain that says Woodward Shop. Oh my gosh! That can only mean one thing. How can this be? I am.... I am in JL Hudson's Downtown Detroit Department Store.

Okay, get a grip Sukey girl. Maybe this is a dream. I should tell you that I have very vivid dreams in which I can recall colors and entire conversations the next morning. Sometimes I am even able to control the dreams. I am aware, while dreaming, that I am asleep and manipulate the dream to my liking – it's kind of fun. So perhaps this is a dream. I think I am in J L Hudson's somewhere in the 1950's. I traveled back in time. I traveled back in time? I need to re-group. I sit back down in one of the little chairs and think this through. Deep breath. I am going to walk out there and check it out, that is a certainty. My appearance is fine, nothing about me looks like current day, well not really. Except for my street clothes here in the fitting room. I fold them and tuck them under the skirt of one of the chairs along with my shoes and the plastic hangar. I peak out again and the coast is clear. I walk out with confidence and close the curtain behind me with the hope that no one else goes in there and discovers my belongings.

Sure enough I am in the Woodward Avenue Hudson's store sometime in the 1950's. How extraordinary. I walk out and see two very smartly dressed women talking about a dress. They are both dressed to the nines with gloves, high heels, matching handbags ... the works. I don't have gloves, I hope that is not a dead giveaway that I don't belong. They are describing the dress as 'darling'. That is totally something my Mom would have said. Oh my gosh, my Mom! My Mom works here, I could walk around and find her. See my Mom while she is in her early 30's, talk with her even ... my heart is racing again. I can't just stand here staring at people so I walk around as if I am shopping, trying to get a grip on myself and not start crying at the thought of seeing my Mom again – perhaps even conversing with her. I wander over near the men's department and there is a trio of sailors joking around. They are so handsome in their uniforms, with their hair slicked back. I overhear their conversation and they are discussing who is the better athlete; Al Kaline or Ted Lindsay. One sailor calls the other two "knuckleheads". I also smell their aftershave lotion, I think it's Old Spice? I keep walking, I don't want to draw attention to myself, but I want to take it all in. I see a lady with a baby in a stroller, or do they call them prams? That baby would now be older than me, how crazy is that? The stroller is all metal tubing with a vinyl seat. The front bar has colored wooden beads on it. I imagine this seat would be so hot in the sun. A far cry from today's super strollers. Now I am in the accessories department. I notice that my hat and dress look appropriate, but my makeup is all wrong; too muted compared with all of the other shoppers. Also, I don't have gloves or a handbag, or should I say pocketbook? Oh, big mistake, I don't have on any hosiery. That is a huge faux pas in this time, I am probably looked upon as homeless, or worse, a streetwalker! I am, however, enthralled at the choice of items in the display cases. The cases are real mahogany with gleaming glass on the front and top. The stock of wallets is unique in that they are so small, and everything is leather. I guess back then what did women have in their wallets but some small bills and a driver's license? That is something that I did not think of. Even more surprising, there are more cigarette cases than wallets. Some of the cigarette cases are rather fancy too. I suppose you would need one with rhinestones for a black tie affair, it would make a very smart cell phone case back in my time. There are many sets of gloves to choose from as well, several lengths, going all the way up the arm to the shoulder ... so refined. There is also an extensive selection of ladies handkerchiefs and scarves. Prominent behind the counter is a giant black cash register. It is then that a 'salesgirl' approaches me and asks, "May I take anything out for you?". I know it is hard to imagine, but everything is behind lock and key and you need a salesperson to show it to you, you cannot help yourself. She is very pretty and I notice her nametag says Vivian. Such an old fashioned name, but very high brow. I cautiously engage her in conversation about the gloves, careful to not ask anything that will give me away. The telephone behind the counter rings and she excuses herself to answer it, such gracious manners. I wander away so that she will forget about me. It is at this time when I notice I am drawing attention. Oh shoot, what do I do?

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Couture Time Machine by Catherine Stewart. Copyright © 2014 Catherine Stewart. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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