Boudoir

“Violet! For the last time, come up here and help me zip my zipper.” Her tone took on the sound of desperate frustration as Violet's mother reached up and down her back to find that damn zipper. Violet, not easily distracted, was fixated on a rather chubby green caterpillar in the garden. Wanting to create a cozy home for her new pet, she wondered if she could sneak up to her room and past her mother to fetch a shoebox. Removing her flip-flops, the girl crept upstairs and was rounding the corner into her bedroom when she heard her mother who had been once or twice accused of swearing like a sailor cry out,  “Bloody hell, I’ve broken a nail, damn it.” “Violet! I need you NOW,” she pleaded.

VAN CLEEF & ARPELS BROOCH DAISY , 1964

Tentatively, Violet entered her mother’s bedroom. If it weren’t for that poor, homeless caterpillar, Mother’s boudoir was her absolute favorite place to be in the whole wide world. She’d spend endless hours watching her mother dress for dinner parties, the theater, a charity function, or the opera. Violet would thrill in helping her choose the perfect pair of high-heels and just the right evening bag. Of course Violet was ready when Mother needed  her help to fasten the clasp on her glamorous pearls or to carefully position a brooch in place.

“Violet my angel, please pull my zipper up. And don’t forget to hook the hook.”  Zipper and hook firmly fixed, Violet set about to find a suitable home for her caterpillar, which she hoped, was staying put where she carefully positioned it before the hasty departure to save Mother’s manicure.