Friendly banter

You set down your water glass and point at Janelle's sweater with a half-smile.

"Mustard is fine. Mustard is great, actually—it's warm, it's bold, it photographs well. But any wardrobe needs variety. If you always wear the same color, you start looking like a cartoon character. Like, 'oh, there goes Mustard Girl.'"

Janelle's mouth drops open in mock offense. "Mustard Girl?"

"I'm just saying—you need contrast. Pair the mustard with something unexpected. Navy, maybe. Or a deep plum."

Priya snaps her fingers. "See? SEE? This is what I've been saying for two years."

Janelle crosses her arms over her mustard sweater. "You two are ganging up on me in a coffee shop. This is bullying."

"It's style intervention," Priya corrects.

The laugh comes easily, but then—Wait. Was that too much? You watch them rib each other, the practiced rhythm of it, the way Janelle shoves Priya's shoulder and Priya doesn't even flinch because she knows it's coming. They have years of this. A shared language built from sleepovers and inside jokes and arguments already forgotten.

And you just... walked in and started critiquing her wardrobe. Like you belong.

The worry settles in your chest like a cold pebble. You're the new person. You don't have the history to back up that kind of teasing. What if it came across as condescending? What if Janelle thinks you're some stranger being preachy about her clothes?

But Janelle is already leaning forward, elbows on the table, braids swinging. "Okay, Miss Fashion Degree—what would you actually put me in? And don't say navy. Navy is boring."

"Navy is classic," you say.

"Navy is what my mom wears to church."

Priya pulls up her phone. "No, wait—she has a point about the plum though. Janelle, remember that burgundy wrap dress at the thrift store last month? The one you said was 'too much'?"

"It had shoulder pads."

"It was vintage!"

Janelle turns back to you, and there's something in her expression—not hurt, not defensive. Curious. Like she's genuinely interested in what you think. "Okay, but seriously—if you were building me a wardrobe from scratch, what's the foundation? Like, what do I actually need?"

The cold pebble dissolves. She's asking. She wants your input.

"Well," you say, settling into it, "you need neutrals that aren't boring first. A good black blazer, a cream silk blouse, well-fitted dark jeans. Then you build your personality pieces on top—the mustard sweaters, the bold earrings, the statement stuff. But you need the bones first."

Priya is nodding rapidly. "Bones. That's exactly what I've been trying to—"

"You never said bones! You said 'capsule wardrobe' and I stopped listening!"

"Same thing!"

Juno appears at the table edge, collecting empty cups. "You three want anything else, or are you just going to redesign this girl's entire identity over biscotti?" She grins, nose ring catching the overhead light.

"Both," Priya says without hesitation. "Riley, when are you free to help with the closet? Because I need backup. Janelle will talk me into buying her another mustard thing."

Janelle grins shamelessly. "It's called commitment to a brand."