(2 of 3)
So, are her veiled friends as stylish underneath their abayas as she is without one? "Just wait," she warns. "Every single piece they wear is stylish. We don't care what men think. Fashion is our girl thing."
Alanoud explains that in Dubai, women dress their hands. "The jewelry is amazing. Van Cleef is huge, Cartier, Chopard, Harry Winston," she says. Like her friends, Alanoud buys precious jewelry as a seasonal accessory, although in her case, it is necklaces—a Van Cleef gold-and-diamond clover and a vintage Cartier tiger necklace. The opulent triple circle of pavé diamonds on her finger is an heirloom gift from her mother.
Handbags are also "hugely important," she says. They are the most visible accessory for women in abayas, but for Alanoud they make the outfit. Her recent choices include a cream-colored Gucci bag that she also bought in brown suede. She has ordered two Fendi bags, a Spy with pearls and a white leather Bag It Satchel; the Chloé Paddington; a Marni bag; and some Vuittons. The one big bag brand she doesn't have is Hermès. "I'm going to wait," she says. "My mom's always taught me, even though you can have it, the beauty is to have it at the right time. If you get a Kelly too early, what's left?"
As for who pays, she does—out of a private income and what she earns from 3W, or Three Women, an online multimedia company she helms with her mother, who is only 45 and earned her master's degree in Paris, and her 21-year-old sister, who recently graduated from Parsons in Paris.
"You know, when I travel, I still meet people who think all I do is ride around on a camel," says Alanoud, half annoyed, half amused. "We may do things differently, but we're very well educated, we've seen more of the world than probably everyone else. We're very open-minded—but with limits."
Those limits include not being permitted to date, although no one is forcing Alanoud into an arranged marriage either. She does meet prospective grooms when her family suggests it, "and the first thing I do is see if he walks in front of me," she says. "Then it's a no, because any man I'm going to love is going to walk by my side."
We are now nearly half an hour late for Nof Al Mazrui, the young mother who is Alanoud's shopping buddy. Nof, who hails from the neighboring emirate of Abu Dhabi and moved to Dubai when she married four years ago (in Elie Saab couture), is about to open a kids' store called Lolly Pop in the Village Mall. But how to find her now? Right in front of us is a site map that is cut into complicated colored cross sections. We're completely confused. Alanoud whips out her cell phone. "Upstairs? By Mont Blanc and Diesel? Got it."
Nof appears to be in traditional dress until I look past the metallic python Chloé Silverado bag parked on the table in front of her and notice that her abaya has a zip front. "I have them made for me. This one's a bit sporty," she says, "and I'm wearing it over"—she unzips an inch and peers down her front—"a Top Shop T, Seven jeans and heels, of course. When I wear flats, I walk like a duck."
Nof stopped counting how many pairs of heels she owns at 80. "But I love them all. I have them lined up next to the bed," she says. In her closet, designer gowns from Dolce & Gabbana and Roberto Cavalli hang next to one-of-a-kind abayas. The dresses are for weddings (at which men and women are segregated), and the special abayas are for covering up at the moment when the groom arrives to collect his bride. Each wedding abaya is designed to emphasize the cut and curves of her dress and the diamonds on the jewelry she's wearing.
This afternoon's shopping agenda is not just about luxury labels. In fact, as Nof explains, most of their time at the mall is about socializing and snapping up fun, throwaway fashion from places like Zara and I-Zone (a Lebanese chain). The problem with luxury shopping in Dubai—and the great irony—is that, according to these world-class shoppers, you can't find "anything" in the stores. As Nof explains, "If Fendi receives five bags, they send them to the sheika's house (royal women get first pick). What's left over goes to personal shoppers for their clients, so that by the time [merchandise] gets to the shop—well, the best pieces of the season don't get to the shop!" She adds, "And I won't wait. I always have a contact person in London."