Being Audrey Hepburn

“Come on,” said Jess. “Let me try.”

“I’m on it,” I said, jiggling the key up and down.

“I’m about to die of anticipation. I can’t wait.” Jess was hopping up and down. I pulled the key out, stuck it back in, and shimmied it back and forth until I felt the lock give way.

“Taa daa!” I threw open the door.

It was pitch-black.

“There’s got to be a light,” Jess said.

Even though it was creepy, I groped around in the dark for a few seconds. The switch stabbed me in the palm, and I flipped it on.

In the flickering fluorescent light, we saw a few antique chairs and a mahogany armoire wrapped in plastic. I recognized some of them from Nan and Grandpa’s old house before she moved into the manor. There was a floor-length gilded mirror, an antique gold-leaf vanity, and framed portraits of people I didn’t recognize leaning against the walls.

“That one looks like you!” Jess said, pointing to a portrait of a young girl.

“Dead relatives, I guess.”

“Or maybe Nan as a kid?” Jess asked. It was hard to tell.

“Look at this,” I said, digging deeper into the dimly lit room.

A crystal chandelier poked out from the corner of a large wooden crate in the corner, glittering faintly. A plush black chaise, which seemed like it should come accessorized with its own lounging movie star, was wrapped in plastic nearby.

“Why in the world does your Nan keep all this stuff in storage?”

“You’ve seen my Nan’s place at the manor. The weight of that chandelier alone would bring down the ceiling.”

“Then why doesn’t she just sell it all?” Jess asked.

“She’s sentimental, like me,” I said. “She probably doesn’t want to part with any of it.”

“Just don’t let your Nan turn out to be one of those old ladies who eat cat food and ramen noodles, and when they die you find out they have eight million dollars stuffed in a mattress.”

“I’m pretty sure her primary food group is cheesecake. But next time I visit, I’ll check her mattress.” I was nervous with anticipation. “So where are the dresses?”

Jess dragged a plastic-covered inlaid sectional table out of the way and was digging around in the back.

“Oh … my … God!” she said. I scurried around the table and a few other crates to see. At the very back, stacked against the wall, were more than a dozen heirloom storage boxes, plus a couple of big plastic bins marked SHOES and HANDBAGS.

Jess pulled a box off the stack and tossed it to me. I carefully lifted the lid. Inside, wrapped up in a see-through plastic clothing bag, was a gorgeous sky-blue taffeta gown. Jess unzipped the bag and lifted the dress from the box. It appeared as vibrant and spotless as if it were new. I went to touch it, but she stopped me.

“Are your hands clean?” she demanded. Spoken like a true museum nerd.

“Yes, Mom,” I said, holding my hands up for her to see. I lifted the hem and we both examined the fabric as the magnificent dress fa

“This is couture,” Jess said breathlessly. “Vintage couture. I’d say this dress is probably worth thousands.”

My heart was pounding as I dragged down another box. Inside was a silvery-gray tweed Chez Ninon suit with a pink collar.

“I’ve never heard of this one.” I handed it over to Jess, her eyes wild and excited.

“Wow. This is exactly the kind of suit Jackie Ke

We tore through the boxes like kids on Christmas morning. There were suits from Lilli A

“Oh my God,” she squealed. “This is a red Valentino. Red! Do you know what a big deal this is? And there’s a green one, too.”

“Whoa, look at that plunging neckline.” Good ole Nan. She was the real thing to pull off a dress like that one.

“Look at this boning.” Jess pointed it out on a gold brocade gown. “I mean, who needs to breathe?” The designer in Jess couldn’t be suppressed. With every dress she touched, she couldn’t help commenting on how fashion had changed over the years.

“That History of Twentieth-Century Fashion class at FIT is really coming in handy,” I joked. She hardly heard me.

“You know, I have a pile of Chanel buttons I found in the garbage on Fifth Ave. after work one day that would be perfect for this,” she said, holding up a dark red Chanel dress.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stripped down to my underwear and pulled on an emerald-green cocktail dress with a fitted bodice and a full skirt.

“What are you doing?” Jess asked. “Be careful!” She helped me slip into the green wonder, and her eyes lit up as she zipped me into the gown.

“You look fantastic. It’s weird, but your body is made for these kinds of dresses.” She inspected the dress from every angle, turning over the hem and the sleeves. “Your Nan is a couple of inches shorter than you are, but you’re on the short-waisted side, so all your tallness is in your legs.”

“Huh?”

“It just means that the dresses will be a little shorter on you than they were on her, but bodice and hip-wise, you’re pretty close to the same size. Of course, her boobs are bigger than yours.”

“Everybody’s are, but thanks for reminding me,” I said.

“That’s what I’m here for,” she cracked.

“Short’s good, right?”

“Yeah, more contemporary,” Jess said. I spun around in the gorgeous emerald-green cocktail dress before the floor-length mirror, and even though we were standing in a concrete closet, I might as well have been in the grand ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria. I felt like I’d traveled back in time to a world where all the rules were different, where I was no longer bound by my mom, my hometown, and my limited prospects.

I couldn’t wait to see the rest and reached for the bins containing shoes and jewelry, pulling out everything I could get my hands on. The shoes, I confess, were sort of a letdown. There were a couple of cute pairs of flats, but most of the heels were pretty boring and very dusty.

One smallish box left.

Inside—the jewelry, oh, the jewelry—a jaded Juliana rhinestone necklace, jeweled drop earrings, enameled bracelets, and sparkling flower brooches. I felt giddy when I spotted the last item at the bottom of the box—a velvet sack with a drawstring. I opened it and pulled out a tiny rhinestone tiara. So totally Audrey.

It was like finding buried treasure.

My mind raced, thinking what it would be like to be the kind of person who wore dresses like these; the people I’d know, the parties I’d attend, a life filled with glamorous possibilities.

I would give anything to have Nan’s social abilities, her sly intelligence and humor. My own upbringing was so hopeless. Being raised by wolves would have been better than Mom and Courtney. I’d give anything to live the way Nan had, with enough elegance and poise to float through New York society as “one of them.”

Jess placed the jade Juliana necklace around my neck, hooking it in the back, its breathtaking teardrop gemstones sparkling even in the dim light. That’s when it struck me.

“Do you think you could, you know, update these?” I asked.

“What? No way, they’re art!” Jess said, replacing the lid on the jewelry container. “They shouldn’t be altered; they should be preserved. Nan should donate these to a museum. Maybe the Met, maybe the Smithsonian. Most of them are pristine. It would be criminal to alter them.”