It’s Saturday and we have the appearance of a crowded subway car rather than an upscale, luxury boutique. The total staff, all five of us, are waiting on two clients each and, at these price points, no matter how busy we are, one must always provide A-plus customer service.
A young man is waiting near the front door, and I tell him I’ll be right with him. He replies he’s in no hurry and that he’ll wait for me. I turn my attention back to the register to finalize my initial sale.
I keep glancing at this distinguished older gentleman next to me, dressed all in black, trying to place what show I’ve seen him in. Was it on Broadway, a movie, or perhaps a TV show? I’m just stymied and, at the same time, determined to find out his celebrity status.
“Excuse me, sir, but aren’t you in the entertainment business?”
As he hands me his black American Express card, he slowly responds in the deepest bass voice I’ve ever heard: “Well, some people think I am.” I glance at the name on the card — Claus von Bulow, the man who was convicted in his first trial, and subsequently acquitted in a second trial, for the attempted murder of his wife, Sunny.
I ask no further questions. I complete the sale, hand him his receipt and card, and thank him for his visit. While his icy blue eyes scorch through me, his mouth curls into the slightest smile, since we now both share his secret.
My attention now focuses back to the young man still patiently waiting for me. I would guess he’s in his late 20s. Dressed in a navy pinstripe suit and carrying a briefcase, he is the epitome of the Wall Street newbie executive.
“Thank you so much for your patience. What can I help you find today?”
“Do you carry pajamas?”
“Of course we do, sir. Please follow me up the stairs to the second floor.”
There is no one on the second floor. With its burnished, burled oak cabinets, the vibe is more meditative, perfect for our loungewear collection. Because of his slight stature, I begin to offer a variety of pajamas in a small size.
“I’m looking for something very specific. They must be silk and I would prefer a dark green color.”
“Sir, we have exactly what you want.”
And with that, I offer him silk pajamas in the deepest shade of English racing green.
“This is perfect. May I try them on?”
“Of course,” I say as I open one of three available empty dressing rooms.
As he enters, I hear the bolt of the door lock from inside the room. I quickly gather several silk robes that would be a good match for his pajamas in addition to a selection of Italian leather and suede slippers. I have been trained well in the art of multiple sales. After several minutes pass, I hear the door open as he says, “So, what do you think?”
I turn and find the young man standing before me, bare chested, wearing only the bottoms of
the pajamas, which are now fiercely protruding directly at me, slightly concealing his manhood. Again, with his hands on his hips, he repeats in a sultry tone: “So, what do you think?”
I glance quickly at the staircase and then lock onto his gaze. Thoughts torpedo my mind: “Don’t look down, Randy, don’t look down. My God, there are people on the first floor. Anybody could come up those stairs at any moment! Oh, he’s so hot! Stop it, Randy!”
No matter what explanation I could give in this scenario, I would be fired.
I swallow hard and say, “Well, the fit seems to be a little tight.”
And with that statement still echoing in the room, I see my boss now on the landing and ascending the stairs.
“Do you need any help, Randy?”
I shake my head vigorously “no” as I hear the lock of the dressing room door.
“Boy, we’re really busy today,” he says. I motion that there’s a customer in the dressing room.
“Oh, what’s he buying?” he whispers.
“I’m not sure,” I reply.
After a few moments, the young man emerges, fully clothed, briefcase in hand, and says, “You were right. The fit’s a bit too tight. Let me think about it.”
As he descends the stairs, I look at the pajamas now lying on the dressing room floor and make a mental note to remove them from stock as a damaged item.
Randall Hemming is an actor and writer living in East Hampton.