One afternoon in the Marais (how cool is that for an opening line?) Teri and Vince were tired from a hectic morning of sightseeing so Adele and I set off to do the father daughter thing. You would think a 15 year old would hide under the bed when her dad suggested shopping but not Adele, she was game from the get go. Turns out it was just one of those moments: when the heat of the day was starting to die down, the city was bustling, streets were crowded but manageable, and cafes were starting to fill. It was the perfect time to set off for adventure. This time we were in search of make up: something about eye shadow or maybe eye pencils? Still not exactly sure, didn’t matter, I was focused on the journey not the destination. Fathers and daughter and all.
Anyway, that’s how we ended up in the Chanel store trying on eyeliner. Kid you not, they have this crazy app that lets you digitally try on stuff. It’s really cool. Until you realize that one minute you are looking at your fifteen year old and the next thing you know the young lady looking back at you could pass for twenty-five. And then you realize she will be twenty-five in no time. And then you think to yourself, but wait, she’s my little girl, still my little girl and that you aren’t ready for her to be twenty-five or even fifteen for that matter. Luckily digital mascara doesn’t run when you tear up…
This conversation runs though my head as Adele digitally flips through eye shadows, liners, lashes and highlights, pushing boundaries, experimenting with different looks, adding and subtracting years without a second thought. It takes a while, then finally she stops, glances up and says, “Hey Dad, check it out!” I turn and look at the digital image of a beautiful, sophisticated, worldly, powerful, fifteen year old on the cusp of stepping out and fully embracing life on her own terms.
“There’s a reason Chanel is Chanel.” Is about all I can muster as I come out of my internal conversation and into the real world. She laughs, fines the smallest sample she can then nervously glances at the price tag. “We’ll split it,” I offer up,“remember, when in Paris.” And before she can answer we find ourselves back out on the street, peeping into shop windows, eating ice cream before dinner, and swinging a little Chanel bag side to side. Swinging it not so much that others notice, but just enough so we both know its there…
Onward->
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