Chương 39: Chapter 36 ~ Gredhkyn's Garment Garden

12/11/1111 EotTS 15: 00 Wyohla's boutique of choice, 'Gredhkyn's Garment Garden', was a wide, three-story tall building in the standard, southern half-timbered shop design that was oh so common in the streets of Thoranyn, but it had its own variations: a first floor made from round, grey river rocks with large, oaken-framed, bay windows on either side of the door, but the protruding floors above it had a limewashed facade with wooden supports, and a mix of ordinary and oriel windows.

The aspect of the building that set it apart from those around it was the two story building which grew out of its southern side like a mole on the cheek of a crone; this building did not have the river rock first floor, nor the lime and timbering of the higher floors, instead it was made of a grey brick, more interestingly though, it lacked a door, which was replaced by three large bay windows that spanned from knee height to just below the roof, with mannequins presenting some premade hats (there were some with wide brims, and some with points, but none with both) watching from behind the glass panes.

Wyohla opened the wooden door and stepped inside. She held it open for Lyma and Gysel, leaving the bell bereft of two rings, but the cast brass would get its due upon the departure. Odd was the scent of the store: on the left there was an assortment of amalgamated aromas, the prominent notes being the attar of lavender and roses, but too strong to be attar; and from the right came the chemical smell of the milliner's, the metallic smell of carroting with mercury.

The 'Garment Garden' took up the whole first floor with the exception of the small flight of stairs that led to the milliner's shop. Clothing hung on display on the walls, and where there was not some sort of article, there was a painting or a wall sconce.

The brown hardwood flooring was covered in scratches and marks, but judging from the reflection of the exposed support rafters of the second floor, it had been polished recently: sometimes, no matter how hard one tries, old wounds do not buff out, and scarred pieces require replacement. The floor was filled with eclectically placed wooden racks, and from their brass rods a variety of garments hung, dangling from hangers which matched the racks.

A surprising amount of the first floor was dedicated to the reselling of used clothing at a discount; most of the clothing on the racks fell into this category. Opposing the entrance was a tall staircase, extending from the river rock wall, which climbed up about half the height of the room before a leftward quarter turn. The stairs lacked a runner and were made of a similar wood to that of the floor.

In the north-east corner, to the left of the stairs, sat a service counter, currently unattended by staff, but attended by four customers. Ajar behind the counter, there was a door, with a faint light coming from within the room it guarded. Wyohla made a right up the steps to the milliner's shop. It was a smaller store, consisting of only an attended counter, and a shut door behind the counter, which likely led to a workshop wonderland and the display mannequins.

On the paneled wall separating the workshop and the counter hung a selection of designs, all of which were two-dimensional drawings, not actual hats. All of the wood was the same dark brown as all of the other wood. The milliner leaned on the counter; he yawned, covered his mouth halfway through, then removed his hand before the yawn had finished. Upon noticing Wyohla, Lyma, and Gysel, he fixed his posture, and smoothed his suit flat with his hands.

He was well dressed in a matching three-piece, moss-green, corduroy suit with a chestnut bowtie with gold stripes. His brown hair was long and slicked back; this choice of styling did nothing to obscure his receding hairline in the corners of his forehead, if anything it accentuated it; one would think that a milliner would wear a hat, not to specifically cover up his hairline: just a general observation; if he did not have the confidence to display his own wares on his person, what did that say for their quality?

"I would like to commission a hat," stated Wyohla. He removed a piece of paper labeled 'commission slip' and a charcoal pencil, setting them on the counter.

"So what do you want?" he asked, tapping the blunt end of the pencil on the counter. Gysel looked to Wyohla—it is her Milliner, so she should do the talking.

"A wide-brimmed, pointed hat," Wyohla started, "but the brim needs to be stiff and perfectly circular."

"You ladies are from the Academy?" The milliner asked.

"Yes."

"Figured, I usually get a few commissions for hats like this each year around this time. I have some premade hats from years prior that never got picked up. You can look through them. If there is a design you like, I can make it in a different color or fabric, or you can just buy that one." Wyohla looked to Gysel; Gysel nodded. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

"That will work," said Wyohla. The milliner went to the back, and over the course of five trips, he brought out eight leather hat cases. He set each on the counter and opened them. None of them were in a very desirable color, mostly blues and blacks (which Wyohla would look good in); but there was one in a very saturated green cotton, which grabbed far too much attention, even more than the silhouette of the hat.

However, the overall shape and design of the hat was pleasing; it was simple, with only a black leather band going around the base of the flaccidly folding and creased crown with a brass buckle.

"This one, but in a different color and fabric," Gysel said, pointing to the green hat.

"And those are?" The milliner asked.

"Brown Corduroy," Gysel answered.

"Do you have a selection?"

"For colors?"

"No, for texture."

"I've got a few." He turned away from the counter, disappearing once more through the door, and he returned shortly with eleven, medium-sized square samples in hand, and spread them out on the counter, in a row ordered by shade: going from the lightest brown, like a dairy-saturated tea, on the left; to the darkest brown, which was nearly black, on the right. Gysel started on the right: personally, a darker brown would be best.

Running her hands over the fabrics, she took her time with the textures, even if this hat would only be worn on special occasions, as the size seemed too cumbersome to wear as common dress, and as long as one did not speak the name of a deity, it had no practical application.

Though, in the end, even if this hat had not been needed for a project, it would be foolish to turn down an offer like Wyohla's: comically large hats, like most things, were best obtained in a manner where one did not need to pay for them (the only exception to this was birthday gifts, as those were only given due to social pressures). Wyohla and Lyma began looking over the fabrics as well, though doing so was pointless: their opinion or advice on texture, or on color for that matter, would not be considered.

"Remember when your hair was this color?" Lyma said, holding up a medium-brown square of fabric and covering the upper-left of Wyohla's head with it.

"Barely," Wyohla answered, as she shooed the fabric away, then ran her gloved hand through her pale locks. What would the silvery blonde look like as a brunette?

it was an odd combination, especially since Wyohla's aesthetic seemed to revolve solely around blues, blacks, and silvers both muted and polished: in a way she was like a Luhnylla's Swan, mostly black, with grand wings decorated in feathers of cerulean, silvers, and whites; but what lay beneath the water-fowl's feathers was far more interesting, as the color of the plumage was matched by the flesh beneath, and they were said to bleed blue.

After working her way through each fabric twice, Gysel drummed her fingers against her pant legs; the second-darkest shade, which was a brown reminiscent of wet soil after a rain, felt the best to the touch.

"This one." She held it up for the milliner. With a nod, he took the fabric sample, looked at the back, and filled out the commission slip.

"It's going to be three gold pieces; one now, two when you pick it up." Wyohla dug into her purse and produced the fee, handing it to the milliner.

"Thank you, come back in seven days," he said with a smile, then he started packing up the hats. Wyohla turned to Gysel.

"I want to get you one more thing."

"All right," Gysel answered with a nod. Wyohla turned and motioned for Lyma to follow; she did, and Wyohla led the way to the other end of the store, from where the perfumy scent originated.

"I'm going to buy you a silk gown for rituals," Wyohla said.

"A simple white silk nightgown works best."

"I thought you did them naked?"

"Well, no; I do them nude, there is a difference. You don't need to, and honestly... You probably shouldn't... At least not yet." Wyohla rang the bell on the counter, and a seamstress appeared from the back. The seamstress was a middle-aged woman with light brown hair, which was tied into a high bun. She had a slender, pointed face with blue eyes and a sharp nose.

"Hello, Wyohla, back so soon," she said.

"No, I'm here for something else today. I need a silk nightgown for my friend here." Smiling widely, Gysel waved to the seamstress, and she smiled back.

"Do you have her measurements?" the woman asked.

"Do you know your measurements, Gysel?"

"Small," Gysel answered.

"I need proper measurements," said the seamstress.

"I can take them if you come to the back, that way I can have accurate ones on file if you return in the future."

"No." The seamstress recoiled.

"Well... I-I can not really help you then."

"By the Gods, Gysel," Wyohla sighed.

"Why not?"

"I do not want my measurements taken." Lyma's face pinched, and then she looked to the seamstress.

"Can we just take them over her clothes?"

"I can, but I am waiving our free alterations to the garment if there are issues upon delivery."

"That's fine," Wyohla answered.

"Will that work, Gysel?" asked Lyma.

"Yes." Gysel nodded.

"Good, take off the cardigan," said the seamstress as she searched under the counter, and produced a tailor's tape.

"I can just measure around the blouses." Gysel removed her cardigan and handed it to Wyohla, who draped it over her shoulder. Tailor's tape in hand, the seamstress worked quickly, in a seemingly rushed fashion, taking only minimal measurements, avoiding both bust-point to bust-point, and shoulder to bust-point: she was finished in less than a minute.

"I'm going to go get my hair braided," said Lyma, as she turned for the door.

"We can go with you as Gysel's nightgown is being sewn," Wyohla answered.

"It's not very busy," the seamstress said, writing down the measurements.

"Mostly just people buying used things, and my daughter can handle those. So, come back in about four hours, and it should be done."

"How long will your braids take, Lyma?" Gysel asked.

"About that long," Lyma answered.

"Do you want to come? You probably have enough hair that they might be able to do a plait at the front, Gysel."

"I will come, but I do not want to have my hair braided," answered Gysel—this will be a perfect time to read, there is a book in the bag, if Wyohla allows it.

"Wyohla?"

"Sure, we can go for a meal after, then come pick up the nightgown." Wyohla turned to the seamstress.

"How much will it be?"

"A gold prince," answered the seamstress.

"You can pay me on pickup."

"It's fine," said Wyohla, as she produced the coin and set it on the counter.

"We shall see you in a few hours." The brass bell above the door finally got its chime as the three left.