Lemons to Lemonade

Jordy and I landed in LaGuardia the next day, so full of energy. I couldn’t believe it that I was finally there and it was so exciting! We made our way from the airport to our penthouse suite in Manhattan, located within walking distance of the Lincoln Center of the Performing Arts. New York was something so familiar to me: taking the gypsy cab, the hustle and bustle of the people walking around on the streets, the street musicians with varying musical styles. New York, in and of itself, was so unreal and, yet, one of the most honest and pragmatic things imaginable.

Upon arrival at our penthouse, Jordy and I immediately left to hit the streets and begin our Christmas shopping. We found ourselves storming the Big Apple going through J. Crew, Saks, Macy’s, and the Apple Store. We had bags everywhere and hadn’t any plans of stopping any time remotely soon. The next place we had to go was Brooks Brothers to find a gift for my dad.

“In here!” I exclaimed, while motioning at Jordy to come towards the store’s entrance. We entered the store, split up, and began scouring the racks to find something that my dad would like since he was so picky. I went to the tie display to see if I could find a standard tie for him, but he either had all of the colors or one that was extremely close to it. I was then forced to move on and try to get to something more unorthodox: a sweater. I went to the sweater section of the store and began looking through the various assortments of pullovers, cable-knits, turtlenecks, and cardigans.

“I hate this. I hate this a lot.” I heard a guy few feet away from me say, very calmly. “I’m not wearing this.”

“Just put on the rest of the outfit and, then, make a decision,” another guy, who appeared to be older, reasoned with the disgruntled young man.

“Why, Kev? There is absolutely no way that you can get this disgusting sweater is going to look good on me. “ The boy responded.

I finally looked over at the two. The older one, “Kev”, stood with his arms crossed and head cocked to the side, as if was evaluating something profound and not something as simple as an outfit. He had short, dark hair that was looked to be slightly curly, especially at the top of his head. He was seemed to be tall, but what do I know? Everyone is tall to a five feet, two inches twig like myself. I looked him over once and was very impressed by what I found. He was fashionable, sporting a gray vest over a blue plaid shirt. He complemented the top of his outfit with skinny jeans that were gray as well, but slightly darker than the vest and fell over his polished, black boots. I couldn’t get a good look at his face, however, because of the angle and glare from the lights. Well, I thought I couldn’t get a good look, but then he turned towards me.

“What do you think?” He spoke up.

“I already told you what I think. Did you zone out on me or something?”

“Not you,” he started. “Her.” He said, nodding his head in my direction.

I jumped slightly, startled. Did this man seriously talk to me? He must have noticed me witnessing the situation, but wait. Why did he look so familiar? Have I met him before, maybe when I was younger? Did we grow up together or something?

“Ma’am,” he tried again. “Would you be so kind as to help my brother with something?”

My mouth gaped open slightly, still shocked as to what was going on. I couldn’t fully come to grip with what was going on. I didn’t want to be rude but I didn’t want to help since I had to buy a Christmas present for my dad. What could I say? Christmas is the time be charitable and make things a little easier for someone else, right? I shut my mouth, took a deep breath, and nodded. I walked towards the two guys, but then it finally clicked. I figured out why this guy looked so familiar; he was Kevin Jonas. If that’s Kevin Jonas, then this guy standing next to him must be Nick.

Now, I didn’t freak out. Being in New York meant that celebrities were easy to spot and, after awhile, it becomes old news. They are normal people, after all, and I didn’t want to seem like a tourist. It wasn’t normal, however, that a celebrity would ask for fashion advice. So, I did what anyone else would do in my situation: I pimped myself out. Everyone wants to be thought of highly so it’s only natural to appear like the greatest thing on Earth since the discovery of fire.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do. I’m really good at finding outfits for people; my friends won’t leave the house until after the send me a picture of what they plan on wearing to see if I approve. So, what don’t you like about the sweater?” I asked Nick.

“Everything,” he started. “It looks baggy and the color is repulsive. Also, I’m not a big fan of this stuff.” He said as he plucked invisible lint from the sweater itself. What he was actually doing instead was picking away at the fabric since it was pure cashmere.

“Well,” I began, “what do you like?” I offered. He pointed at a plain, navy blue cardigan hanging. “Ok, why can’t he get that?” I turned to Kevin.

“We go Christmas caroling as a family every year and we have a uniformed look.” Kevin answered. “We all wear khakis and a solid color sweater. This year, Nick gets the honorable privilege of wearing green, which coincidentally is not his favorite color.”

“Ok, Nick,” I began walking away and perusing the racks. I began pulling sweaters for him to judge.
One shade of green, he thought, would make him look like a tree. Another sweater made him look like a child. The third sweater gave him the appearance of being a middle-aged man. By wearing a cardigan, it would mean that he would have to wear a green shirt underneath and that would be “just too much green” for him to handle at one time. If it wasn’t one thing with Nick, it was another. Before I knew it, I was ready to throw a mannequin at him and tell him to get over himself. I managed not to do that, but I couldn’t really control what came out of my mouth next. Temper tantrums generally worked for me in the past, so it was perhaps out of habit that this one slipped.

“Look,” I started, holding up a solid green cable knit pullover. “This is the simplest thing in this store. I know you probably don’t like this particular green, but I don’t care. It’s Christmas, meaning that most of the greens are going to be a darker green. You are only going to be wearing the sweater for four hours; besides, your winter coat will be covering it up for one of those hours anyway. You will get this green sweater. You will stop being so picky. You will get over yourself and you will stop giving your brother so many problems. I always get my way and my way includes you wearing this.” I said, angrily shaking the sweater at him.

Nick raised an eyebrow and looked at me in disbelief. He shifted all of his weight to his left leg and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He leaned down, getting millimeters away from my face so that our noses were practically touching. He didn’t say much, but this one little word from him instantaneously sent me packing: “No.” I threw the sweater on the ground and turned around to pick up my bags, since I was leaving.

“Great, Nick,” I heard Kevin say. “You just drove away, probably, the one person on this side of the Mississippi who could help you pick something. You heard her say how good she was at this stuff.”

“She obviously wasn’t that good,” Nick refuted, with spite evident in his voice. “I didn’t find a sweater.”

I continued to silently gather my things and storm off. I found Jordy sitting down in the shoe department at the front of the store, left with her, and headed back to the penthouse. I would have to find Dad’s gift some other time because, at that point, I just didn’t care anymore. No one tells me “No”, not even Nicholas Jerry Jonas.