Diary of Broke Kampala Fashionista – Part 5

Diary of a Broke Kampala Fashionista is a new series on Satisfashion UG. Kampala born Kirabo has a knack for fashion and in another life, she was born in New York City. She dreams of going there but is too broke to even live alone. She lives with her elder sister Mutesi, who treats her like a child because she spends and acts like one. The weekly struggles are all (unintentionally) fashion related. She narrates her story of trying to realize her dreams while sliding in tips of how she gets by looking like a million bucks on a very slim wallet. She interns at a law firm in Kampala.

See part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here and part 4 here.

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I got to work late today – again, with a genuine reason though. I had to head downtown to pick this dress, someone had asked me to help them buy. Yes, sometimes on the side I make money by shopping for people. In the fashion world I would be called a personal shopper, but in Kampala I’m ‘helping’. That means many times I’m paid peanuts barely enough for transport charges even. But I do it anyway. It’s practice for when I move to New York. In New York, personal shoppers can earn $300 per hour and upwards. Per hour!!! Imagine!

Well, I got to work all panting in my horizontal striped shirt, which I had draped a blazer over. Some plain white trousers and flat pumps graced my lower half. I must have been crazy dressing up today.

First of all, the clouds that were threatening to rain earlier cleared without a drop. The sun beat down on me so hard you’d think I stole her boyfriend. Then the dust. Ugh. My white pants were suddenly a light cream/brown colour. Well, it wasn’t a problem that I arrived late because, I heard Boss Lady had a meeting in some company all the way across town so she would come in late as well. She still wasn’t in when I arrived.

The receptionist looked at me with a slight frown, she looked like she wanted to hide me herself. I plastered on a smile and walked through, dropping the dress on my desk and making a beeline for the washrooms. I had to assess damage. I got there and it was mostly my face that was troubled. Sweat streaks went down the sides of my face from my hairline; I needed to grab this hair all up in a bun at least.

So, I set up shop on the counter; removed my makeup kit and a hair-tie and brush. After putting my hair up in a neat bun I proceeded to remove and reapply my makeup. Like, it was that bad, some of my mascara was running, my face looked sweaty, and my lipstick wasn’t even in line. Anyway I finished, sprayed myself fresh and packed everything back.

That’s when I saw it. A small tear on the side of my handbag… it looks like they pulled a Kampala on me while I was downtown. My wallet was gone! My money, my ATM card which has no money on it by the way!

“Oh no! What am I going to do now? How am l going to buy stuff online without my card?” I thought to myself.

Thank goodness my IDs were at home. Then the gaping hole… that must have been what the receptionist was staring at, besides my bad makeup. Well I couldn’t leave with the tear still gaping, what was gone was gone there was nothing I could do.

I still had my mini ‘fix it’ kit in my bag, complete with a thread and needles, buttons, a nail cutter, cello tape and some black nail polish. I sewed up the tough leather, as much as I could (one of the needles even broke, damn) then where it failed I finished the job off with neatly cut cello tape across the damaged area, then did the same on the opposite side so that it looked like the design. I then proceeded to cover the cello tape marks with the nail polish and I was good to go!

I had so much work left over from the day before and also had to call my dress client, so I had to rush to my desk. As I left the washrooms, I bumped into a towering male frame. I was startled so I looked up haphazardly and met a familiar set of eyes.

“Hey…. Watch your step,” he shouted.

I stared up at his smile for what seemed to be 2 years. I was trying to muster his features. His jawline seemed like a drawing done with a protractor and ruler. His eyes were surrounded by thick long eyelashes. Why do men have such full eyelashes? His skin was flawless, it looked really photo shopped. His head shone reflecting the overhead light which made him just look like an angel.

“H-Hi, my bad, didn’t see you there,” I trembled.

“Get a grip, Kirabo. He can’t see that you’re nervous around him,” I said to myself.

“It;s quite alright, I was actually looking for you.”

“Oh? How may I help you?” I asked.

“You could start by telling me your name.”

I felt my cheeks rise in an attempted blush. I tried to save it by making a little pout, and made my serious face. I could smile in my heart, no problem.

“Uhm.. Kirabo,” I replied.

His eyes lit up, “Well, look at my luck! I bumped into a gift just like that?”

This time I couldn’t help it, I felt the smile creeping back up but I didn’t stop it this time, but made sure I didn’t give him all my happiness, just a ka sweet uninterested smile as if I had heard that line 300 times.

“Well, my name is Kiiza,” he said, reaching his strong large hand out to shake mine. I met his hands and felt the back of my neck break out into a sweat.

I was still looking for a witty reply when I heard a shrill noise in the distance, “KIRABO! There’s some paperwork I need you to file now!” Looks like Boss Lady was back, I hadn’t even noticed.

He stepped aside to give me way and smirked, “See you around, Kirabo!”

………

Look out for part 6

Cover photo by William Stitt on Unsplash

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