Beauty

”Ah, Madame Soyelle – I was in another aisle and smelled the delicate fragrance of your scented petals,” announced Madame Huget, as she approached our stand at le Salon de la Lingerie. “I knew you couldn’t be far way – the scent is deliciously unmistakable. And then I heard your voice – or rather, your accent – also deliciously unmistakable. Comment vas- tu?”

Madame Huget was one of my favorite clients and I couldn’t resist giving her special treatment – she deserved it. She had earned the top honors and distinction more than 15 years ago when she ordered 6 bottles of lingerie wash and officially launched Soyelle by becoming my first customer.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I answered reaching behind me for the small tray of rasberry and chocolate macarons that we kept for our most endearing customers. “How is the boutique? How is your mother?” Madame Huget’s mother was a formidable woman – or rather, Madame Evelyne, as she preferred to be addressed. An elderly woman, probably in her early eighties by now, Madame Evelyne was a quiet and dignified figure in the boutique and was always immaculately groomed with her white hair graciously pulled back in a chignon and dressed in a beautifully cut tailleur, jacket and skirt. Madame Evelyne believed that clothes should fit – properly. It was a question of aesthetics and she began helping out in the boutique doing simple alterations to ensure that a bra fit perfectly. A nip, a tuck, or half an inch more or less made all the difference and clients quickly began to appreciate the difference. Madame Evelyne was fond of saying that a good fit was simply good taste – in yourself.

As her reputation as a skilled seamstress spread, Madame Evelyne also took on other tailoring needs. When I dropped by the store a couple of weeks ago, she was busy at work on a wedding dress that an anxious and fraught soon-to-be bride had brought in requiring last minute attention. Half an hour later, a radiant and confident young woman left with her dress and insisted that Madame Evelyne join them for the ceremony in a couple of hours.

“I have some very sad news” said Madame Huget, her smile evaporating. “Maman passed away in her sleep last Tuesday.”

I reached for her hands and we clutched each other, forgetting our pre-defined roles of supplier and customer, and stood motionless in the wasteland of the convention center. While the rest of the world continued to swirl around us, we remembered and honored the intrinsic and rare beauty – both inside and out – of an extraordinary woman.