An obscenely elderly woman from France named Martin owned the bookshop and I can’t recall the name of her daughter who owned the dance studio but I primarily worked for the other daughter Danielle who owned the costume business.
Danielle was the widow of my dad‘s dearly departed best friend. Every year for Halloween we would go to her shop and pick out a one-of-a-kind historical costume for me to wear—many of these were actually just antique pieces of clothing that had been immaculately preserved over the years.
Flipping through her fat binder of costume photos to decide what I wanted to be was always the highlight and kickoff of my Halloween season. One year I was a flapper; another year I was a saloon hall girl (I was probably 12 this is where well-meaning liberal parents who let you be yourself can go wrong!! Lol); during my edgy goth era I was Lizzie Borden.
During the autumn after I graduated high school Danielle needed cash under the table seasonal help for the Halloween rush so I jumped at the chance to work for her. I mended and organized costumes in the massive backroom (which by the way felt haunted and like I was being watched at all times despite being the only person there, especially after the sun went down) and retrieved them for customers to try on upon their request. I answered phones, kept the shop tidy, and shelved and organized books and antique magazines. I decorated the shop for Halloween!
I bought a few magazines from the bookshop including the one in the below photo, an old paperback copy of Lolita with a weird sticker of a cartoon Native American person on it, and a book of black and white magic spells attributed to Marie Laveau.
I quickly learned Danielle was a miserable person. She had a nonfunctioning vacuum cleaner that was about 30 years old and would yell at me until I cried saying that I clearly didn’t know how to vacuum. Martin would insist that I eat bananas she offered me and would then act gravely offended and lecture me when I declined (yes, this happened multiple times; no, I did not learn my lesson and just take the banana). One day I ate a muffin on my break and Danielle fired me for eating at work so you can imagine how the conflicting instructions gave me whiplash. Anyway Danielle died RIP 🪦 🥀
Honorable mentions after that I was a restaurant hostess, I worked in an old airstream converted into a coffee stand at a farmer’s market, and I helped my dad’s cool dirtbag old friend Fred sell antique jewelry weapons and oddities at gun shows