This is Prompt No. 53-Style
It was painfully obvious to Mitchie that while she had been away, the styles in Virginia had changed once again. She spent the five days before the party trying on her old dresses and having them approved by her mother's watchful eyes. None of the dresses were approved, and with a sigh, her mother agreed that it was time to get a different gown. With a clap of her hands and a crisp order to the maid, Mrs. Torres was able to order a buggy for Mitchie, a maid, and herself.
The ride into town was quiet, and the silence bothered Mitchie, making her edgy. Her mother took her squirming for discomfort and said tartly, "Oh Michelle, do stop fussing. It's just a dress fitting, not a torture chamber." Mitchie reminded herself to flinch convincingly as her mother spoke those "dreaded" words. Mrs. Torres then said, with a hint of remorse in her voice, "Do forgive me. That was the wrong comparison to use."
Mitchie nodded slightly to let her mother know that she didn't take any offense. "It's fine," she said, brushing it off. "The memories are beginning to fade slightly."
"Good," her mother said in an effort not to be rude.
They reached town and the driver helped them alight. Mitchie peered around the town she had known for many years and grinned. Nothing had changed much, although with meat being so scarce, there were actual rats hanging in the windows of the meat store. Mitchie shuddered slightly and turned back to the dress shop. "How does this place make a profit?" she asked as the three women walked into the shop.
Her mother glanced at her as though she was being absurd. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked.
Mitchie pointed flippantly towards the meat shop. "Rats are being sold for such a high price because there's no meat left thanks to the war, but people can afford to buy new dresses?"
"Of course!" Mitchie's mother said in a voice that plainly indicated that she thought Mitchie was being silly. "True, the prices are higher now, but when was fashion ever cheap?" The shrug in her shoulders told Mitchie that she didn't really care how much the dresses cost, just as long as they didn't embarrass her.
The dress shop was decidedly different than the last time Mitchie had been inside it. There were many more bare walls and empty stands. There were fewer choices and the colors looked slightly worn, as though they had been there, hanging on the models for a while. "Lots of business," Mitchie remarked in a low voice to the maid, making the latter girl smile and even giggle slightly.
The bell above the door had signaled their arrival, and now a gentleman with a tape measure slung around his neck came running out from the back, looking eager to assist anyone he possibly could. When he saw the three women, his smile widened even more. "Good afternoon, ladies!" he greeted them cheerfully. "What can I do for you today?"
"We're looking for new dresses for the party at the end of the week," Mrs. Torres said, speaking for the little group.
"Ah, I see!" the little man said. He glanced at each lady and said, "Three gowns it is."
"They must be stylish," Mrs. Torres warned.
The little gentleman turned and smiled cheerily at Mrs. Torres. "When have my creations been anything but?" he asked.
Mrs. Torres smiled tolerantly. "Point taken," she agreed.
He whirled away from them and disappeared into the back, returning soon with a box. Mitchie closed her eyes for a moment, dreading this part of the dress fitting. Standing on that very box, never moving for at least an hour, had never been one of her high priorities. "Who would like to go first?" the gentleman asked.
"I will," Mrs. Torres told him, standing up and throwing her wrap at the maid before she stepped daintily up onto the box.
Mitchie rolled her eyes and let her mind wander for the next hour, trying to tune out the droning of her mother's questions and the tailor's answers. She really didn't care what the fashion was, as long as she looked nice in it. Mitchie hated to abide by fashion, because fashion tended to look silly and unnecessary. She was brought out of her reverie by the maid's gentle tap on her shoulder. "Yes?" she asked, still dazed and rather lost in thought.
The maid bobbed a slight curtsy. "The tailor's ready for you," she said.
Mitchie blushed at being caught daydreaming. "Oh, right," she said, standing up quickly. She smiled at the maid. "Thank you."
She stepped up onto the box and her turn of torture began. When the tailor placed the tape measure around Mitchie's waist, she inconspicuously sucked in her breath. Having a baby had added a slight roundness to her figure that an unmarried woman simply didn't have, and she could not let the tailor find that roundness. Her mind and muscles screamed at having to hold her posture for so long, but a mistake could be disastrous, so she bore the pain as best as she could. When the gentleman finished with her waist, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Once he had finished the measurements, the tailor then suggested colors for each of the dresses. Mrs. Torres chose a loud gold color, despite the tailor's subtle hints that it might clash with her skin tone. The maid was given a plain brown, but she didn't complain. After all, it was a privilege for her to even be allowed to attend in a new dress. When he reached Mitchie, he glanced carefully at her for a long while and then said, "I think I have the perfect color for you." He disappeared into the back and came out with a bolt of sea green cloth. "What do you think of this?" he asked.
Mitchie's eyes widened as she glanced at the material. It seemed to shimmer as the tailor shifted it nervously in his hands. She nodded, trying to hide her eagerness. "I approve," she said happily. "Thank you. That is a very good choice."
The tailor ducked his head at the praise, afraid of appearing too proud. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
Mrs. Torres stood suddenly. "I believe we should be going," she said. "Please be sure to get the dresses to the Torres Mansion by Friday morning."
The tailor nodded and stood to assist Mitchie's mother with her wrap. "Thank you ladies, and good day!"
Mitchie was the last to retreat from the shop, hanging back a little so that she could whisper to the tailor, "Would you please keep my dress simple?" she asked.
The tailor smiled at her and nodded. "I know the perfect style for you," he promised her. "You'll look lovely."
Mitchie nodded and thanked him sincerely. "Good day," she said as she hurried out of the shop.
Her mother and the maid were already seated in the buggy, so Mitchie scrambled in, mumbling her apologies. "Couldn't find my glove," she said as an excuse.
Her mother waved off the excuse and turned to her maid, breaking down in her excitement and talking to her servant. "I was quite pleased with my selection," she began.
"Yes ma'am," the maid responded dutifully.
"The styles these days quite intrigue me," Mrs. Torres went on, and soon she was off in her own little world of style and fashion.
Mitchie turned to look out the window, drowning her mother's talking out once again. Truly, she hated style.
A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review! It makes my day! :D
