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 Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 9:59 pm
Shopping was something of a religion for most girls of a certain personality type. It didn't really matter what class you were or how much your parents made; if you cared about your appearance, you cared about shopping. That was just how it went. Kaatje was no different; sure, she was artsy and most of her designer jeans ended up unrecognizable by the end of each particular season, but she still cared about the clothes she wore and wanted them to be quality.
Early on Saturday morning, she hadn't hit the mall; she'd hit the Destiny City version of Fifth Avenue at the moment the clocks chimed nine, intent on spending as much of her daily spending limit as she could.
After ravaging Burberry and a string of other stores, she finally hit her destination: the fitting room of a high-class atelier. It was a fitting for the dress she'd wear in Germany for her eighteenth birthday; her mother's family was Very Proper, and insisted on a debutante ball with all the Right People. So there she was, arms lifted over her head, kinky hair pinned up into a high bun while an older lady poked around with pins and needs. The ceiling, though, was uninteresting; she looked left to an empty stepstool, and right to an occupied one.
"Oi, Jada," she said, tipping her head forward a bit; "Seriously, sleeveless? Are you sure you've got the shoulders for that?"
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 10:34 pm
More than a religion, shopping was a way of life. Some people chose to be nudist, or chose to shop at WalMart for the good deals. Some people were Abercrombie and some, like Jada, were a Gucci girl. At heart. You got what you paid for in your clothing, and while Jada bought off the rack, she did so prefer custom.
It was Saturday morning, almost lunchtime; Jada was about to start her shopping. She'd had to go for her traditional morning ride, after all, and Lady Luck had been particularly happy to see her after her long absence. She'd contacted the people who had been in charge of fitting the dress that had supposed to be her Prom dress; it was hardly going to be prom now. Halloween, however, was in a matter of weeks. (Who cared if it was two months away? She needed to start planning the party now. She was going to have one. She'd been robbed of her 18th birthday masquerade party!)
She'd been pleasantly surprised to see one of her acquaintances already at the shop as she came in to discuss business. "Kaatje." Jada nodded to her, glad she'd worn the outfit she had. At first glance, the other girl would find it harder to see her emaciated curves. Not that she was too underweight; she was only five feet tall! Her body mass, however, had dropped from overweight to underweight and she had lost over 30 pounds in her three months of incapacitation.
Still, Jada decided as she glanced surreptitiously in one mirror, she didn't look it... did she?
As she spoke to the seamstress, she'd thought about what she'd heard about Kaatje. Rumor had it that her parents had been victims of the Nightmare that had killed so many. Still, as Jada stepped onto the stepstool next to her fiery acquaintance, the other girl was being fitted for what looked like either a wedding dress or a debut dress. Knowing Kaatje, it was likely for her debut.
"Sleeveless." she repeated not even a minute later after the other young woman spoke. "I most certainly have the shoulders for it. And a nice slender neck for this neckline." it was a light jab at the other girl in reply to her own.
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 10:53 pm
Kaatje's arms were starting to ache from holding them over her head for so long; but every time she went to bend them, the tiny old lady using her as a human pincushion seemed to find some new, unexplored and unpunctured piece of skin to stab a needle into. Every single time, the redheaded girl had to bite back an irritated <********>; seriously, why did she come here all the time?
Right, the perfect fit. Damnit.
She huffed at Jada, rolling her painfully blue eyes at nothing in particular. "Of course, dear, but if you don't eat something it's going to fall right off." There was a significant look at the older girl's bust; it hadn't shrunken noticeably, but Kaatje had eagle eyes for the physical traits of others, and it was clear Jada had dropped a lot of weight recently. "When we're done here, I'll make you a sandwich if you promise to eat it," she said, tipping her chin upwards and yawning. "I'll have you know that my BMI is 17.5 right now."
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 11:10 pm
Bright purple eyes blinked as her fellow fashionista stared frankly at her bosom. Instinct decreed that she should cover it with her arms; if she did that, however, the woman refitting her would probably stab her with one of those monster cloth pins from sheer agitation. "Don't huff, dear, it'll bloat you and make your fitting off."
Food was appealing; her stomach rumbled loudly in appreciation of the mention. Jada's pale cheeks lit in embarrassment, but she didn't acknowledge it. "I've been eating plenty lately." she protested. "And a 17.5 BMI is underweight, I'll have you know." Her own BMI was between 15.6 and 17.6 right now; Jada had dropped from 120 to only 80 pounds while she was in the hospital. She'd been eating for the last week, and she was sure that eventually she would stabilize. If she could hit 90 pounds, then she would be around the same BMI that the other girl was claiming.
The heiress could have huffed, but it might have bloated her measurements.
From the corner of her eye, she cast a scowl at the other girl's body. Model-tall and stick thin, the lucky duck was made for the runway. Everything Jada wished she could be. "I only need to gain a few pounds to be in the range of commonly accepted healthy weight." A few pounds. HAH. This morning, she'd been at 84. She needed to be 95 to meet that mentioned 'healthy weight' and a lot more than that to be as curvy as she had been before. "You should probably gain a few pounds yourself. I'll eat that sandwich if you do."
Then the scowl was more proudly shown, and Jada clucked. "And at least I have something to hold the dress up." she sounded disgruntled.
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 9:01 am
Kaatje rolled her eyes. Underweight, schmunderweight. She was proud of her body; curves in the only places they had any place being, height and a pretty seed-shaped face that hadn't gained any of adulthood's definition. Sure, it could go bad in a matter of a year, but Kaatje was smart and food-savvy. She could definitely make it back.
"Not enough," she said. "Weight is a personal subject, I'll agree, it changes person to person. And precisely because it's person to person is why I feel my 'underweight' BMI is exactly perfect." If her hair hadn't been pinned over her head, she would have tossed it for effect; as it was, she waited until the seamstress turned away and then shrugged. There wasn't a time since she'd been old enough to understand differences in body type that she hadn't been on some kind of diet. Some worked, some didn't, but she was always shunning something: Large portions, carbs, proteins, green vegetables, solid food (although she didn't like to remember that one).
She tsked. "Ah, but that's why I acknowledge the necessities of straps. Dress smart, and you too could be a vision of perfection like me." And she was grinning as she dropped her arms to her sides and obediently turned at the seamstress's command.
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 4:59 pm
Oooo, the other girl's last comment was a low blow, straight to Jada's wardrobe. Lowest of the low! "And when do I get to be as perfectly delusional as you, Kaatje?"she would have made a face at the other girl's turned back, but there were still people around; the 18-year-old hadn't forgotten that she had an appearance to keep up!
This dress was being pulled in much too far. She looked anorexic. Maybe Kaatje was right about this dress? Jada stared into the mirror for a few moments, listening to the sounds of pins pricking through fabric. Maybe she should get a shawl for her arms? She took a breath, about to order some minor modifications, when she looked back at Kaatje's little grin and her eyes narrowed.
No. Confidence and poise. she gave a soft little sniff, shifting obediently as the seamstress turned her. "So, remind me when your debut is?" It was somewhere overseas, the lucky duck. Jada's had been an interesting little party, and one she would probably regret for the rest of her life. It had been the last "hurrah" for so many things. "And doesn't school start for you soon?" Would school be starting for Jada soon, as well? She hated the thought of attending one last semester of High School, but she had neglected her finals...
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 10:19 pm
"That, my dearest, my darling, my Jada, is a trade secret," she said, a tiny and genuine smile playing around her lips. Being called delusional by someone like Jada was, to her, like being named a visionary by one of her idols. Except she wasn't going to make her say it again into a tape recorder, or anything, like she would if Coco Chanel came back just to tell Kaatje that she was amazing. That'd just be creepy.
Eventually she was allowed down, and as she was stripping down to the little slip she wore under all her white dresses she shrugged over Jada's question. "November, the twelfth I think. Grandmother says it's a day of good luck, since you cannot have your ball on the day of. Whatever, I say. Germany's a wash, anyway."
Kaatje: smart and bratty. Not a good combination. "School's two weeks away," she confirmed as she shimmied back into her sweater-dress; outside it was eighty degrees, but a child of good fashion like Kaatje didn't bother with temperature. "I have a ton of things to do before then. I'm sure you heard my parents died in the comas, I have to sort everything out. My cousin Kreszant is going to stay with me until that's done."
She gave Jada a critical look. "You'd like him. But then, so would your mom."
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Posted: Sat Sep 04, 2010 1:43 pm
Trade secret her foot. Jada almost shook her head, but instead satisfied herself with shaking her dark head at the other young woman. Really, sometimes Kaatje was perfectly strange, yet most of the time she almost enjoyed her company. It was not even that they dealt with each other for long periods of time- fitting rooms, in the halls at school, out with the horses; each particular time maybe at most a few minutes- but there weren't the social lies that were so commonly a requirement in relationships of their particular social class. She'd been lucky like that, first Elke (the name brought a pang of pain) and with her experience when she met Eve, and now when she met with Kaatje.
Plus, Kaatje's taste in clothes was fabulous.
A pin pricked into her and Jada hissed out loud this time, glancing down. The seamstress apologized. There was a bead of blood on her skin. The seamstress didn't notice. Jada swallowed, fighting back a wave of nausea. "Twelve November. Family, and a bunch of rich old men." She made a whirling gesture with one hand, that Kaatje probably couldn't see as she was changing. It didn't matter if she saw it or not.
"I am sorry to hear about your parents." So many people had died. "I wasn't certain where to forward condolences to, when I found out." Her father had mentioned them in passing, as Kaatje's father had been a fellow businessman- a CEO, if Jada recalled correctly.
Too many people had died. Too many people were still frozen.
"If there is anything I can do to help out, let me know." It wasn't said politely, or out of courtesy; Jada's voice was too firm, too clearly. A touch too genuine for a stranger, perhaps? So the purple eyes didn't move towards the changing room, fixed on the mirror and the single drop of blood she could swear she saw in it. "And my mother would like a lot of remotely eligible men." Now she looked at Kaatje, giving her one of her devil-may-care grins. "But Mother is in France hunting herself up a new husband."
Was that amusement in her tone?
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Posted: Sat Sep 04, 2010 3:10 pm
She manfully (womanfully?) ignored the shaking of the head and implied censure; she plucked her sleeves into proper alignment, pulled bobbypins from her curly hair to let it fall in a firey river down her back. Her eyes were especially blue against the backdrop of orangey red.
"Family not so bad," she yawned; "Rich old men, hardly likely. All the heirs in the moneyed families, they're in their mid-twenties. Still. I don't want to speak German for the rest of my life. I'd have to pull an Emilie Descartier and cut my thighs to convince the man I was... unavailable. Constantly." She smiled, quick and bright, at Jada; even the mention of the deaths of her parents didn't dim it. Even the thought of the dead little brother or sister didn't disturb the smile.
With a shrug, she said, "That'd be me. When I'm older, I'll be Vice-President of Operations, too, if I want it. I don't, but... well, what you've got to do." It wasn't a secret that Kaatje wanted to design clothes. She shrugged, genteel from the tiny ahoges in her hair to the blunt toes on her boots, then dropped her hands. "France, is it? Didn't the Ambassador to France lose his daughter recently? Although I also heard something about a mistake in paperwork, so who knows."
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Posted: Sat Sep 04, 2010 3:34 pm
"I'd speak German for my mother to have tried to hook me up with a rich young man." her voice could have dripped with jealousy if she'd allowed it; had Jada danced with any eligible bachelors around her own age? Not really, they had almost all been somewhere around her mother's. "So long as they are young and handsome, too." Young, handsome, wealthy, all very good things. Not that Jada was the sort to have high expectations, of course.
...
"All done." it came quietly from the woman who had been hemming her dress and Jada glanced in the mirror, spinning in the black velvet gown to examine herself.
"Do what you have to do?" the words struck her painfully. Do what you have to do. It was what Jada was doing, staying here in this deathtrap town. "I don't have anything I have to do." Shop. It was all she had to do. Spend the money her parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and further back had spent their lives earning her. Even being Sailor Scylla- did she really HAVE to do it? No one was holding her at gunpoint and making her do this. "Not yet." her voice was soft.
Jada spun around again, looking at her reflection. "So how do I look? Other than emaciated."
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Posted: Sat Sep 04, 2010 4:46 pm
She shrugged both shoulders. "Probably they won't even be trying to marry me off yet. I'll only be eighteen, you realize? Old World sensibility taken kind of crazy with your mom, I think. Anyway, I'm too useful." Single and alone, she was a heiress and a perfect reason to keep certain positions closed. Married, there was no reason to bar her or her husband. For now, they'd secured three or four years before she could do anything, really.
But then, her family had never seemed as cutthroat as Jada's.
The redhead watched her friend turn, arms crossed over her chest. She pursed her lips, tapped a finger to a cheekbone. She shrugged, then. "You get some weight back, it'll be fine," she opined, throwing up another shrug and then setting her hands on her hips. After a long moment, she picked up her purse; the fittings were already paid for, so she had nothing to worry about. "C'mon, let's go have that sandwich."
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Posted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 12:21 am
Jada's smile was wry. "At least you won't be on a coma on your eighteenth." What could she say? Her mother had wanted her engaged and married off by eighteen; probably more to ensure that good marriage than to try and get her claws in a chunk of Jada's money. The Scout pondered the black gown that stood out starkly against pale skin, then shook her head. She'd never get a good fit out of it; if she stayed this skinny she might just die, and if they made it fit her as she liked, she couldn't gain an ounce or it would show. She could toss it in the closet, she supposed, where it could rot or be re-tailored if she found a good excuse to wear yards of black velvet. "Let me get changed." she told Kaatje, and stepped off the stool and into the curtained-off portion of the room to slip back into her outfit- neatly pressed dark blue jeans, and Gucci boots and top. It didn't take her long to change; sliding her id and credit card back into her pocket, the henshin pen tucked neatly into her boot, she moved out of the room and over to the redhead. The women were putting up the dresses they had been trying on quietly, talking to themselves in low voices. Jada pulled her long hair back, wrapping it into a bun from where it had been hanging down to her thighs in a mass of curls. It took a few moments as she tucked her hair in on itself, tying it back with a small scarf, and when she was done she looked at herself critically in the mirror. She probably should have left it down, but the bun was so much easier for the weather today. "There are a few little places around." Something didn't make her think that Kaatje was actually serious about making her a sandwich. She didn't know the other woman well beyond socially, but something told her it wasn't her style. The shorter woman moved towards the door, one of the women who worked the shop pushing it open for them. "So, where did you want to go for lunch?" She could always be wrong about the stylish redhead.
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Posted: Thu Sep 09, 2010 9:28 pm
There was an irritated sigh. It was very much a whatever sort of idea; that someone might want her married was kind of not her concern. She didn't want to get married and she damn well wouldn't. That was just how it would work, mostly because they had no control over her any longer. "Save it," she suggested of the dress as the pair stood in the hallway outside the fitting rooms. "You can always patchwork it into something. Or do tacky black velvet paintings. I hear commoners like those, you know?" Kaatje hit the stairs, the heels of her adorable shoes clicking brightly as she practically bounced down. "Could augment your trust fund, huh?"
She was brushing her hair back into the elaborate side-fall she sported as a sailor soldier, eyes lidded. "Sure. You want to go to... hmmm... that little restaurant, Fusion? It's like... French-Asian cuisine." The redhead tipped her head back to look at the shorter woman. "I've had their soups and salads. Pretty delicious."
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Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 6:26 pm
"Patchwork?" the look on Jada's face was briefly one of amusement. "I'd have to learn to sew if I was going to patchwork anything." Unless she hired someone else to do it, but wasn't the point of a hobby to do it yourself? Still, using the sensual black velvet in some sort of soft thing- like a blanket, perhaps? That was a rather intriguing idea. She still wanted to wear the gown. Maybe with a strand of pearls around her wrist, and a nice diamond chandelier necklace. Diamonds were a girl's best friend. "I don't need to augment it." the words spilled brightly from her cherry lips. "And if I were to try, I'd want to be a model." her confession was oddly tilted, and she smiled wryly at the other woman.
"I've never been to Fusion." The subject change was appropriate, and easy enough. "Lunch is on me. Lets go."
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