The office was humming with murmurs, costume rustling and zippers. Young women jostled each other in front of a mirror, surrounded by haphazard stacks of makeup bags, hair products and shoes. A few dusty bulletin boards were crowded with photos taken at least a decade ago, judging from the hairstyles, and some more-recent additions were tacked casually in the upper corners. A few girls looked up at me or scoped me out in the mirror when I came in, but no one said anything.
I stood around for a minute, wondering what I should do next, when a tall, beautiful woman came over to greet me.
“Bonjour, and welcome, Pale!” she said in a teasing manner. When she had called me about my application earlier that day, I had jokingly answered the phone in French. Mistakenly thinking I was native to her country, she'd started chatting rapidly, leaving my high school freshman language skills far behind. I felt myself blush at her reminder.
Selene must have been at least 6 feet tall, and she had platinum blonde hair and warm, chocolaty brown eyes ― eyes that were right now smiling at me in a friendly way. I didn't stand a chance; my girl crush was instant.
“Let me get you started with a quick video about what we do, then we’ll get you into make-up and costume, and count out your inventory,” she said briskly, leading me to a small sitting room in back, where an older TV/VCR combo was set up. No one else joined us.
While she got the old technology up and running, I thought back to last week when I found the ad for this gig. I nervously pulled my printout of the Craigslist ad from my pocket for a quick refresher.
EXCELLENT SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME
Are you an entertainer, or just like to ham it up? Do you want to have fun while making money? Do you want to experience the nightlife of the City? Then you should come to work for us as a Candy Girl!
Tawny's Tarts has been in business for over 15 years and have steady accounts (60 gigs per week on avg.) We provide everything you need: the gigs, merchandise, transportation, costumes, etc. It costs you nothing to start! Make an average of $10 - $30, cash, per hour. As a general guideline, expect to make $50 to $150 for a five-hour gig. You take the money home, in your pocket, at the end of every night.
This position requires skill in sales (you will be hawking name brand items, treats, novelties, etc.) and acting (as you play the part of an authentic cigarette/candy girl of yore).
By donning the alter ego of a candy girl, you automatically inherit the right to be outrageous, courageous, witty, spontaneous, flirtatious, fun, charming! Give it a try — call today!
I had been intrigued. Scared, and intrigued. Put myself out there? Talk to strangers? Going to bars, cold selling, relentlessly pursuing cash, stories, and a flashy present tense I could finally count as a meaningful life ― this was exactly the kind of thing I would never do. This was, I guessed, why I was sitting here.
The video was dated and crudely edited, blending images and video from the 80’s and 90’s, as well as some current footage from a few years ago. I saw Selene posing with a tray, her enigmatic Mona Lisa smile reminding me that confidence was not always feigned.
While some of the training video was laughable, there were definite elements of classic sales incorporated in their technique. I started to get nervous again, to see the legacy stretching back all these years, which also reminded me that I was about to don this same iconic image. All these girls, chasing notoriety and adventure, using nothing but their street smarts and sex appeal to carve out their own piece of the pie…I said one more internal prayer, praying that I didn’t embarrass myself.
When the video ended, I headed out of the training room and into the main lobby, which was filled with girls in various states of readiness. Some had just come in and were storing their things in the closet, others were counting merchandise they'd spread over the tables they'd commandeered, and still others were crowded at the mirror, primping and perfecting their look. Some were quietly focused on their tasks, but others were chatting with each other or talking loudly on their cell phones.
Selene pulled me behind the front desk and directed me to a small side room.
“Pick out a color that you like, and we’ll get you changed.”
I was standing in what looked like a very colorful coat-check room. In front of me were two long clothing racks filled with uniforms in every color: baby blue, turquoise, red, pink, yellow, and purple. The long-sleeved tops were draped with braided rope, and the short satin A-line skirts had black satin trim down each side ― very burlesque meets band camp. Selene explained that they were modeled on the bellhop persona.
A small scrap of matching fabric was pinned to each costume, too big to be a wristlet, and too small to be a belt.
“What is this for?” I asked.
“That’s for your hair, instead of the pill box hat. We switched those out just a few years ago. It’s more modern, yes?”
Selene explained that the costumes were provided by the company for free and were laundered regularly. We were allowed to put together our own outfit, but it had to have a consistent theme and had to meet with Selene's approval.
“Your costume is everything we can see on you, so wear a complete costume from head to toe! The overall look that we are going for is classy, sexy and professional.
“You should always wear a comfortable but dressy pair of black shoes or boots. No pirate boots; they should be urban. Shoes need to have elevated heels, be clean and in good condition. Stockings are required with every costume; nude, black or fishnet pantyhose are acceptable. No holes or runs. I would definitely bring a second pair with you." She rattled all this off quickly, straightening costumes, adjusting accessories, and kicking stuff on the floor to the corners.
I was feeling overwhelmed, but Selene wasn't finished with me yet.
“Your makeup must include foundation, eye shadow, lipstick and mascara, yes? Glitters and fake eyelashes are allowed, if you wish to use them. Your hair should be brushed and styled ― bobby pins, hair ties, styling products, that sort of thing. We have feather clips if you don't want to wear the matching hairpiece.”
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
I was distracted slightly by how much information was being thrown at me, and I interrupted Selene to ask her if she expected me to remember all of this. She laughed musically.
“Of course not, though you are absorbing more than you realize! Besides, that fresh meat aspect is one of the things that will help you sell tonight. Now, back to your look.
“The goal is to look authentic. You picked that up from the video, yes? Since this is your main tool when you are out, the costume is one of the two most important things you possess. Of course, the other is your attitude.”
At the moment, my attitude was cowering under the clothing racks, but I did my best to appear enthusiastic and competent.
“Basically, always arrive on time for work, with a professional appearance. Treat this like you would any other legitimate job. The management reserves the right to veto any part of your look if it’s inappropriate. Any questions?”
Though I did have questions, I shook my head no. Selene was still slightly intimidating.
“You are running a little behind since we still need to get your merchandise counted. Go ahead and get changed as quick as you can, and I’ll get your inventory started.”
I thought for a moment what my dad would say if he knew I was doing this tonight. I gave Selene a big grin, and chose a pink bellhop uniform.
I headed back through the crowd of girls in the main lobby and into the training room. I closed the door, but there was no lock, making me nervous. About halfway through getting my top on, I discovered to my dismay that it zipped all the way up the back, which was a torture device in women’s fashion invented for the double-jointed. On my most bendy days, which were generally limited to days that I helped someone move or when I’d managed to get a little booty the night before, I could’ve still only gotten the zipper a little over halfway. Of course, the door opened just as I'd gotten the zipper midway up my back, with my chest hanging out. Of course.
I heard a stifled laugh as I turned to check who was coming in. A very short, dark-haired girl shut the door quickly as she slipped into the room and turned to look me over. She had dark curly hair that was big and thick, equal parts curly and fuzzy. Her eyes were also dark, but as she looked me over she was smiling at me like we’d just gotten away with deep-frying Twinkies. She was really short ― she couldn’t have been more than 4'10 ― busty, and young. Despite that youth, her eyes were intelligent, and amused.
“My name’s Meredith. Do you want some help with that?” she asked good-naturedly.”
“I don’t know. Aren’t we going to dinner first?" I shot back with a sly grin and raised eyebrows. She laughed, and gestured for me to turn my back to her.
“My name is Pale. Thanks for the help. It’s my first night, and I’m crazy nervous.”
“No kidding? Pale’s an interesting name. That’s not a stage name, is it?” she asked, tugging at the zipper on the back.
“Nope. Just parents who had a strange moment. I guess Blake was considered, but they decided Pale was more feminine." I adjusted my outfit in the mirror as Meredith struggled with the back.
“Why did you ask if it was my stage name?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Oh, I guess I gave myself away! I’m a singer.”
“I love singing! I was just crazy for it when I was little. So, are you performing right now?” I asked.
Meredith laughed and closed my top.
“Not really, unless you count the coffee shop I’m working in part time.” She turned to stash her bag under some props and tables. “They have an open-mic night, but I’m trying to get more evening gigs. You have to know the right people, yadda yadda. It’s taking more time than I anticipated, so I thought this job would be fun, and might help the singing career a bit.” I turned back to the mirror and slipped on my skirt and shoes.
“So, it’s your first night, huh?” she asked.
I nodded yes to her reflection, as she had moved back to the door and was headed back out to the main area.
“Don’t worry, you will do great. Most girls are nervous at first, but it wears off quickly. You ought to do fine, as long as you don’t get falling-down drunk, lose your money, or wreck the costume!" She flashed me a smile and stepped out to the lobby.
I followed her out and took an empty spot at the large table in the center of the room. It was hard not to check out the other girls: they were obviously in pre-show time excitement and dressed so beautifully, they were magnetic. They were all wearing the iconic uniform, but each girl had added some aspect of herself that showed me more about her than she realized. There was another tall blonde in the corner, with long, reedy legs. I could tell she’d seen her share of tough times by how casually she used her makeup, like she’d done this hundreds of times before. Her makeup was a bit cheap and heavy, even for nightlife.
The short-tempered rockabilly girl with the tattoos was carefully going over heavy black eyeliner just above her pupils, adding a long slash at the end. She’d already snapped twice at a girl who’d bumped her at the mirror. Over and over she ran the brush across her eyelid, unsmiling, focused, and serious. I could tell she had other things on her mind.
There was a short, jumpy Indian girl complaining about her inventory, requesting replacements for item after item, all the while on the phone. She was carrying on what appeared to be a totally one-sided conversation to her boyfriend.
Selene brought over a large tray and plunked it down on the table. She pulled out an inventory list and started teaching me the ropes of counting each item. We checked batteries for the light up rings and toys and divided the items by category. The sheer number of items we carried was dizzying, but I managed to take in most of what she was saying.
“Now that you have the gist, get all this counted, yes? Go see the drivers if you need to change anything out. The boys can help you with questions, too, as I need to get back to the desk." Selene gave me another confident smile and patted me on the shoulder. Her hand seemed to linger for a moment, but I might have been imagining that.
I counted the items and logged them on my inventory, trying to move briskly but not to make any mistakes either. Girls all around me were tucking their belongings into the training room, their trays counted and set aside, ready to be picked up on the way out the door. They stopped at the mirror to put the final touches on their hair or adjust their hems.
I found two items with dead batteries, plus a candy bar broken in half. A few Tarts were standing near the main desk, at what looked like an inventory closet, so I headed over there with my defective product.
“What do you need?” asked a lanky, tired-looking guy with white dust in his sandy brown hair. He was about 6’1, and hunched over to look at me through the pass-through. His eyes were dull from exhaustion. He had the look of someone who was used to being asked for too much.
I hesitantly stepped closer to the large cutout where a window used to be, to look at the boxes behind him. The shelves were filled with cases of cigarettes, cigars, gum, mints and candy, as well as large bags of rings, necklaces, spinning light rave toys, and all manner of other items. On the floor, buckets of water held roses.
“Hi. Sorry. It’s my first night, so I’m still getting in the swing of things. My name is Pale. I have two rings that have dead batteries and a broken wrapper on this Snickers.”
He was very cute, and while he did give me a small encouraging smile, he ignored my introduction and turned to get me what I requested.
“These should work for you,” he said as he handed me the replacement items. “Good luck.” He looked away, done with the conversation.
Obviously I made a huge impression.
Though I was dressed up as much as the other girls, I suddenly felt insecure, and went to check my reflection before I headed out the door into the night with these strangers. Other than Meredith and Selene, I was not exactly feeling the camaraderie I had hoped for. I had envisioned a team of glittery, enthused girls going out to take on the adventure and nightlife of San Francisco. It turned out this gig was about me, taking on the crowds.
I was not exactly a bombshell like Ms. Rockabilly Eyeliner, and I didn’t have Meredith’s spunky good nature, I thought to myself as I stared into the mirror. But I had a certain presence of my own. I’d just have to show them what I was made of.
Shine on, you crazy diamond, I whispered to myself.