Page 17 of Rome with Dad's Best Friend

“So, where do you like to shop?” Marco says, flashing me a grin.

I look up dubiously at the names of the stores near us. “I’ve never been anywhere like this,” I say, thinking of the chain stores I shop at back home and how cheap they seem compared to this.

Marco laughs. “Then let me guide you,” he says, walking me towards one of the nearby stores. I follow him with a little fear, will these stuffy Italian brands even have something for someone like me? Surely they only cater to women who are size zero, six foot tall, and impossibly proportioned?

My doubts increase as we step inside, past a security guard in a dark suit with an earpiece who eyes us only lightly before letting us pass, and I see the other customers in the store. They are just how I had imagined, so thin they look like a stiff breeze might blow them over.

Marco must sense something, maybe I’m shaking because he squeezes my hand tightly where it lays on his arm and draws me over to an assistant, flashing me a smile as he does so. I should trust him. I know he will look after me.

He says something that I can’t follow in Italian, and I let my eyes drift off as they talk, looking over the racks of beautiful clothes. It’s not at all like the places where I normally shop, where every surface is heaped with different garments and you have to search through them for something you like, every item here has its own space and consideration, highlighted so that you can admire the craftsmanship and style of each piece.

I’m startled when the assistant addresses me, holding out her hand as she asks me to follow her. I look at Marco; he nods encouragingly, so I follow her to a changing room with a plush armchair inside and a heavy velvet curtain to block the view. As I watch in surprise, the assistant rapidly dashes around the store, piling six different items one by one in my stall on a peg, three dresses, a coat, and a blouse with a pair of pants, all of them in my size.

I didn’t even tell her my size or what I wanted, but – somehow, she has picked out things that I love the look of.

She ushers me behind the curtain then, and I quickly change into the first dress, marveling at the feel of the fabric and how it seems to mold perfectly to my body. When I step shyly outside to show them, the assistant claps her hands and gushes something that I don’t understand, and Marco covers his mouth with his hand for a moment.

Under the hand, I see a smile.

“Beautiful,” he says, his eyes lighting up with something new. “Just beautiful. We’ll buy it.”

“Wait,” I say. “It’s only the first dress!”

“Do you love the way it looks and feels?”

I catch sight of myself in another mirror across the room and nod. “I do,” I have to admit.

“Then we buy it,” Marco says, drawing a credit card out of his wallet and handing it to the assistant. “And if you love the way the others look and feel too, we buy them. Whatever you want. You get it all today.”

I don’t know what to say. “But, Marco…” I start. It’s too much. Surely, it’s too much.

“No buts,” Marco tells me. “Remember. Today is your special day. Everything you want.”

I’m so overwhelmed, I just don’t know what to say. But the assistant is saying something to me and pushing me back into the changing room, and so I simply do as I’m told and go try on the next outfit.

I try to temper Marco’s generosity with my own desires, after all, I don’t need this many new clothes just because they’re being offered, and I don’t want to take all of his money just because he offered it. In the end, we walk out of the store with two dresses and a blouse – and just when I think we’re done, Marco leads me next door, to a famous Italian shoe brand.

By the time we’ve been through several more stores and had lunch, I feel as though I have a whole new wardrobe. I can’t imagine needing anything more, and with a new necklace clasped around my throat, Marco unloads the rest into his car – though I’m surprised the tiny trunk can fit it all.

And we still aren’t done.

“This way,” Marco says, taking me by the arm. “There are still some parts of Rome you haven’t seen, yes? We can’t let you miss out on those.”

So we find ourselves in the Roman Forum, mixing amongst the other tourists and tour groups, Marco helping me pick my way amongst them as we get to see all of the best parts.

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