Chương 313: Prelude

These things always bore me. Last season I was able to get some interest out of the tactical applications of the fashions on display. With so many extraneous accessories there was lots for me to work with. I came up with the idea of asking many of my relatives to wear a different assortment of buttons, jewels, chains and pins so that I could identify them at a distance just by feel, and to start using their clothes to nudge them into positions or angles that benefited the whole group.

It got me thinking more creatively about concealed weapons and things that can be used as concealed weapons. Or, even better, petty nuisances. A dozen times these past months I've arranged a small well-timed distraction by having a clasp fail and someone's necklace or purse falls, or a brooch or tie-tack starts to poke someone. Easy stuff. That's about as much entertainment as I've had from the shows yet. This one is worse.

My brother's part of the show is the feature, the headliner, which means everyone else is opening for him. And I have to sit through five presentations before they get to the part that has some real schadenfreude potential. I nudged Kimothy.

"Unbar the stage door so he can see what they're doing."

"Oh, right." I slump, bored, deliberately ignoring every lesson I've ever gotten on bearing, posture and deportment. I get my rebellions where I can, and this is a dark room. Slouching in the royal presence will have to do, for a few more months. The master of ceremonies takes the stage, welcome everyone blah blah blah, proud to be able to present blah blah, without further ado blah.

And then the curtain goes up and there's some guy that craves attention like air acting like he is changing the world by presenting us the most unique and exciting opportunities in apparel, you'll be the talk of the town wearing the innovative new dress that is just like every other dress but with a big drape of chiffon as an over-skirt. Filmy and light and breathy, it adds an airy whimsy that will attract eyes and hearts! So this is what they did.

Only a couple of days ago, Lady Hanje leaked to the other designers here about Nathan's work. From what she said, they paid a viscount's ransom for the information. Not an exorbitant amount, but a lot for a clothing designer's budget. they took that information to steal Nathan's thunder. Every dress that comes down that runway has some gauzy, floaty addition to it, a scarf or capelet or train or big sheer bell sleeves. Taking off my ring again, I lifted it back to my eye.

It gave me a view of the dressing room for Nathan's show, and the dawning realization that was on his face. The door was open, and he stared out, looking at his competition. At the other shows, stealing his ideas. And every time one of the other announces mentioned that they were using 'moderate' amounts of sheer, or 'the perfect amount' of gauze, or other less-is-more type of language.

They were using small amounts of his stolen ideas, as highlights and detailing, and implying that any more than that would be overdoing it. Nathan looked from the stage back to his models, who were dressed in a lot of gauze, chiffon, sheer light layers, bell sleeves, big bows, and other forms of fabric froth. Our audience here is being prepped to regard lots of froth as being too much, as being gauche and unimaginative and overdone. They are being conditioned against his show specifically.

I had underestimated the effect of leaking that information to them, Lady Hanje had done the right thing. Not every good idea needs to come from me. I put the ring back on my finger, and smugly watched as one boring presenter after another made extravagant promises about clothes, as we all pretended that this is not a farce just so we can visibly differentiate one interval from another so we can judge each other for not spending a fortune on clothes.

Much like putting on a blindfold to enhance hearing, sitting in a dark room with a crowd of people makes it strangely easy to read the mood of people's reactions. The temperature of the murmurs, where there are pauses and silences, even the difference between a chair's legs scooting so someone can lean forward for a better look versus scooting so someone can get up and go use the restroom without missing anything good. Based on all that, this is just a normal show.

I can't read any strong interest or distaste, because for all the talk about unique styles and daring new developments, this is just old ideas in a slightly different order. The exception is every time that one designer finishes and the main host steps onto the stage to make a few remarks and introduce the next performance, there's a little more giddy excitement. It builds each time, and fades to a sharp disappointment each time that the name is announced.

I'm reading into the pattern, and the people of this crowd are waiting for something specific. A particular name. The feature designer, the headliner. Nathan. they're eager to see his show, specifically. I suppose that makes sense. He's the protagonist. Everything he does generates interest.

"How many is this?" I asked Kimothy.

"How many what?"

"Designers, how many separate shows have there been?"

"Oh! Five." So the next one up has to be his. I take off the ring and look into it with gloating in my heart. My face fell as I took in the scene.

"That son of a bitch."

"Who?"

"Nathan."

"You both have the same mother."

"Yes, I know, but, just- dammit!" I stopped talking and just paid attention. Nathan was not melting down. He was working. He had abandoned the scissors and thread, and had drawn a dagger. While I watched he scooted around Curigi's skirt, cutting away a thick lace hem, leaving several inches of petticoat exposed. He turned to Filly, whose dress was now being worn without the petticoats. He slashed twice, and her bodice just dropped away, the laces cut.

I stared as he kept cutting, freeing up long swaths of gauzy chiffon, and he gave a twist and pulled tight, wrapping her torso and then up over her neck in a halter-fit. He said something, and Sicimmi leaped forward to secure the edges with safety pins, creating a very precise and professional-looking arrangement.

Curigi had removed her own petticoats, Josse helped her step up, over and out of the padded layers, and the shortened skirt now fell to the correct length, swirling around her ankles for the prudish fashions of the day. He was improvising. He was reacting to my scheme. He was using his native skills and pluck to overcome unexpected adversity, like a god damned protagonist is supposed to do. And he was delivering real innovation, real new ideas.

Dizzy was in a sleek sheath dress, Lyric Vainting was in an empire-waist. He's just throwing ideas around and just matching the fabric to the bodies, and it is working. God dammit. It makes sense. He looked out the door, saw his designs being mocked and mangled, and he had to do something. He can't make the dresses be made of a different fabric than they were, so the only thing to do is adjust the cut and fit, and with so little time the only thing he can do is make drastic changes.

Not just that, the designs he's throwing down really do look more comfortable for summer days, veranda salons and all, than what he had been working with before. While I watched, he took a broad-brimmed hat from Sicimmi's hand, set it on Zauria's head, and then cocked it at a steep, jaunty angle, changing the whole silhouette of her gown. Then he twirled his dagger, and slit her skirt from the hip to the floor, and started doubling it over itself, inventing the mermaid skirt right there in front of me.

Of all the emotions I'm dealing with right now, one of them is relief that I never took Gharie up on his invitation to start designing and do a show. I wouldn't be as good at it as he is. I can't even find it in me to be actually surprised. Why did I ever suspect that he would fail to be good at something? Just because he's never done it before and has no knowledge of the fundamentals? And why did he pick now to start introducing dresses without petticoats? Is he trying to fuck everything up for me?

I know that this time last year I would have killed for some variety of gowns, but this is not the right time! Well, maybe I can spin this. I'll pretend like I've got a respect for traditional dress styles, for a while at least. That'll play well in certain audiences. It's a natural gambit, when he pushes something progressive I have to jump to tradition just so I'm his counterpoint. Otherwise, I'm just backing his move.

Really, I don't like the way I'm backed into this corner, but if I'm going to win I have to fight. The ring scraped my skin a bit as I shoved it back on my finger. I was careless, and there were no channeled essences bolstering me. Kimothy glanced my way.

"Is everything all right?" he whispered, concerned.

"It's perfect, of course," I sulked. I was being childish. I let out a long breath, and tried to remember the capybara energy.

"He's not going down without a fight and he's doing even better than before. He's trying to win the fight for the fashion show, and he might do it. But he won't win the battle of reputation that is being fought right under his nose. Which means he's going to win in a way that means I really win."

"So that's... good?" he murmured, with an eyebrow arched curiously.

"Well, it's better than bad," I admitted.

"I'm starting to understand his side of the situation. All those times that my win was really his win. It doesn't feel as good as it should. I guess I'm not really built for this. I like a clean win."

"I'm sure he would, too, but you're pretty good at denying him a clean win," Kimothy pointed out, smiling. That did cheer me up. I sat back and watched. If you've seen one fashion show you've seen them all, and if you've never seen a fashion show you got lucky. They're not all that uncommon, but there's a reason I only see two of them a year: I avoid them.

I've asked Lady Hanje to balance my schedule so that my events do not include runway sessions, model-mingles, clothier demonstrations, couture showcases or designer galleries. The very first time a wine-fuming man four times my age leaned in and winked when he told me that I could be a model, I swore off the whole scene. Looking back, I wish I'd scathed him, but instead I just separated myself from those situations. Anyway the format is easy to understand for this event.

We all sit in soldier-rows staring at the stage. The host stands in the wings waiting for his moment, holding his microphone in the 'off' position. The designer stands to one side with another microphone and narrates/describes each outfit and/or the model that is wearing it, as they walk in from the stage's wing, hit their mark and pose, walk to the marked locations and stop and pose, then walk off as the next walks on.

For particularly long shows, the model will immediately change into a new dress or outfit so that they can be in place for their next walk, showing off multiple dresses in a single show. But since this demonstration has six designers on one stage, each designer only shows from four to eight looks. Some of the models are working for multiple designers, and move from one dressing room to another as the show moves on, but Nathan won't be doing that because he's bringing on all his own talent.

And, they're all amateurs, which probably makes most of the professionals here feel slighted or threatened. It's not strictly necessary to treat the models like they can't hear what is being said about them, or to talk about their entrance as if the clothes were moving on their own without the benefit of a human, and just generally ignore their agency and awareness, but everyone does.

The fashion world revolves around treating things as being more important than people, and that breeds a culture of behavior that shapes people's attitudes in far-reaching ways. Like flirting with girls a quarter of one's age. So the number-five show wrapped, and the host stepped in with his mic held ready and his smile plastered on.

They used to use placed podiums for the sigils that catch, amplify and project sound, but as soon as I introduced wired and wireless microphones, they have been the standard, one of those developments I make that really did catch on quickly.

"And what a fine show that was!" he said, walking on to the lime-lit portion of the stage. I'd been surprised to find out that term comes from limestone, not lime fruit.

"Let's all give a warm round of applause for Kisp Vyist for a wonderful presentation, and all that fine work! So many wonderful new designs for everyone to look forward to!" No mention of the models who let themselves be dressed like dolls for us to stare at, with extra gauze and georgette to deal with. I gritted my teeth. The world does not stop for my grievances.

"And what a wonderful audience you've been, too!" the master of ceremonies gushed.

"You should all give yourselves a round of applause for that, too!" This crowd is actually self-absorbed enough that they actually did it. I cringe in my seat and wait as patiently as anyone in front of a firing squad. He can take all the time he needs. Nobody rushes the firing squad.

"Now before we move to the next show, I would like to speak on behalf of the Hall of Arts and the design board about our next show. Obviously we are a forward-thinking industry, always considering what comes next, and in that spirit we all are proud to extend opportunities to the up-coming generation of artists and visionaries!

Normally our featured designer would be someone who has taken accreditation through a board-approved course, served their apprenticeship and established their own studio through regional shows and gallery invitations. But if you always do as you've always done, you'll always get what you've always had, and the design board is looking for someone who would really shake things up!" Ready.

"And fresh ideas need to come from fresh hands and fresh eyes, so when a blossoming new talent was discovered, the moment was right to offer a daring chance to a daring young man!" I really cannot tell if this presenter is being sarcastic. Maybe he wrote this speech last week when Nathan was promising something drastically different than the other designers.

His show had come from Gharie, who was good enough to be a featured designer in his own right before he was scandaled out of town and then kidnapped by my brother. It had never been actually revolutionary, just par for the course at these shows. So the presenter was always over-promising, but that's what he does so that may or may not indicate?... Or is he fully aware that Nathan has been set up, and that the other designers have stacked the deck so that Nathan would look derivative and overdone and tryhard?

If the host is aware, then this is some cruel schadenfreude for sure. But then, he's not aware that right now Nathan is wielding a foot-long dagger and safety pins to create something actually new and remarkable. So maybe he's being an ass, maybe he's just jaded, but either way he cannot know that he is actually giving Nathan the introduction his show really deserves. Dammit.

"So while we appreciate all the hard work and insight of our established designers, a choice was made to try something different and bold! All new ideas from a new perspective! We're all sure you will love what you see! Let this be a night to remember!" Aim.

"I'm sure everyone in this room is familiar with his name already. The son of Duke Matthew and Duchess Thamsin Harigold of Meadowtam, already storied and accomplished during his studies at Hearstcliff Academy! He brings with him a bevy of beauties, fellow students and the management here certainly hopes that for them also this is the start of an illustrious career!" Gross objectification, par for the course.

But also, this crowd has been carefully marinated to hate my brother's guts today, so this is really winding up the punch.

"Now, he's eager to show what he's got, and you're all eager to see it, so I'll just get out of everyone's way. Without further ado, I present to you all: Prince Nathan Harigold!" Fire.