This is the eighty-fourth of 87 letters exchanged during World War II between Nicholas Salvatore and Elizabeth Galloway. For more see Nicholas and Elizabeth.
July 17, 1945
The city is beautiful and I’m a part of it
The clerk at Macy’s said I had skin like porcelain. My soft shoulders were exposed and I got embarrassed when I heard it. I wish you could see me in this new green dress. It’s positively delicious. My aunt bought it for me for my birthday. She’s throwing me a party tomorrow to introduce me to her circle of friends, a number of then have children around my age. I told her I’d rather not – it makes me anxious to worry about one first impression, let alone 30, 40, 100, who knows? My aunt knows half the city, if not more. I don’t want to be paraded around, but I do look good in this dress. I wish you could see me. I’ll wear a wrap over it and save the whole effect just for you. Trust me, it’ll be worth it to see your jaw drop, and trust me, it will. The first few days here were awkward, but my aunt is such a great hostess that she makes you feel that you’re the only one who matters in the whole room. There’s nothing fake in it and I don’t know how she does it.
Oh, did I tell you she bought me nylons as well? Brand-new ones. I look like a million dollars. You’ll hardly recognize me.
I’m off for now. Please keep writing and come home soon.
Next letter – July 30, 1945