WHAT HAD BEEN A CHAOTIC mess of exotic gowns that ended up looking like the prom section of a second-hand clothing store had exploded, now looked like I'd walked into the most expensive clothing boutique.
I stood with a hand to my breast, breaths coming in astonished gasps as I turned slowly.
Gone were the heavy-duty exposed rails littered with an array of colours and fabrics, instead built against the outer walls were wide dark wardrobes interspersed by drawers and cubbies out of which peeked the numerous shoes my mother had possessed. I spotted narrow high cubbies with my favourite boots and squat long cubbies with the elaborate hats I hadn't been forced to wear (yet).
With all the clothes tucked within the dark polished wood wardrobes, silver handles bright from the overhead lights with the connecting crystals, the room felt as big as it should. But not overwhelming. Weirdly enough, it almost felt relaxing. Several comfortable but elegant stools were scattered about the place.