I think that I remember the very first time I actually spoke to Mrs. Blow, although we often think things happened a certain way and they did not. It really doesn’t matter. I spoke to her one day when I was about 12, and finally got the nerve to get off the bus and walked into the Vogue Shoppe. I was thrilled to be amongst all these incredibly beautiful things that I never dreamed existed: toss pillows shaped like tootsie rolls costing $12.00 and could only imagine the kind of women who would buy them. There were several people in the Shoppe and everyone seemed busy and excited. I wanted to someday be part of that excitement. Suddenly out of nowhere a blonde woman with a black dress, high heels, and chandelier earrings (right in the middle of the day!), appeared and scared me right out of the shop. I knew that she could see right through me and quickly left the shop with the self awareness that the little boy from Hazel Street didn’t belong in that place. I left knowing that someday I’d be back, with the knowledge of what a decorator was supposed to look like. Mrs. Blow’s style and glamour were timeless and impressive. Even today I use it as one of my yardsticks:
What Would Thelma Blow Do?
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