Disclaimer: Based on the novel by Gaston Leroux. All Phantom related works, as well as lyrics quoted in the story, belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 14 - The fine art of dressmaking
It's been a while since Erik wanted to facepalm himself like he did now. How did it even occur to him to speak to Carlotta about his feelings randomly during the day and in some dark corner of the backstage! Such matters had to be discussed in a romantic scenario and what could be more romantic than a masquerade!
He hurried back to the cellars, a plan already forming in his mind. Bursting into his house, he began searching the closets. Eventually, he found what he was looking for: a heavily embroidered red costume complete with a hat, a pair of loafers and a velvet cloak. Dusting it off, he put it on and went to inspect himself in one of the mirrors in the torture chamber.
His face fell. The style looked so outdated. He didn't like the puffed up pants anymore. He'd rather have them regular and paired up with different shoes. These ones looked almost feminine. The old-fashioned jacket was heavy and overly large. The fabric itself reeked of mold and featured a few holes, likely the work of rats. There were a couple buttons missing here and there, and of the feather on the hat there only remained a naked stick.
He checked out the mask that went with the costume. More than a mask it was a sort of two-piece skull-shaped helmet. When worn, it looked like an oversized death's head. Very macabre. Not very attractive.
The outfit that used to make him feel like a king now made him feel more like a clown. For a moment he considered wearing something modern, something simple, but he gave up the idea as soon as he got it. The Red Death was his trademark look. He'd make it work one way or another!
Changing back into his regular clothes, he found some blank paper and pens he had borrowed from the manager's office a while ago and sitting at the table, he began to draw. A few hours and several sketches later he came up with a design he was fully satisfied with. Now he only had to have it made.
Back in his time, Erik used to have most of his clothes made by one excellent tailor who had a store not far from the Opera. He had been the one to create his original Red Death look.
Tailoring was a kind of craftsmanship that even in the era of mass production of cheap pret-a-porter didn't go extinct. That said it was a surprise for Erik to find his tailor store of choice gone. In its place, there was a different one that appeared to sell anything but quality clothes.
"I can help?" a little Chinese woman asked in broken English when he came in. Perhaps she took him for a tourist.
Looking around Erik muttered, also in English, "I need a costume."
"Costume? Yes, yes, we have. Spiderman, Batman, Princess Elsa," she listed. "You need for boy or girl?"
"Madam, I'm afraid you don't understand. I need a costume for myself."
The Chinese shook her head. "Sorry. No big size for big man."
"There used to be a tailor here," Erik cried in frustration. "Did he move elsewhere? Do you, by any chance, know where?"
"Taylor? Taylor Swift? Yes, yes." The woman nodded eagerly. "We have shirt with Taylor Swift and backpack and beauty case. Only ten euro. Come I show you."
"Not Taylor. Tailor. A man that makes clothes."
"No, no. We not have."
This was useless!
Waving the Chinese lady goodbye, Erik got out into the street. He was fairly certain there still had to be some tailors left in Paris but he couldn't just wander around looking for one. He didn't have that much time to spare, let alone the will.
Suddenly he remembered: the phone! He now had an iPhone and for what he knew he could use it to find just about anything he needed in a matter of seconds. Retrieving it from his parka pocket, he opened the map app and searched for the nearest tailors. There turned up a few not far from where he now was.
Coming to the first store on his list, Erik seized the clerk at the desk. The young man dressed in an impeccable black suit that matched perfectly the snobbish smirk plastered across his face.
"May I help you Monsieur?" he asked, stressing on the last word with anything but respect.
"You may indeed," Erik said, trying to sound more confident than he was. "I need a costume made."
"Costume?" The clerk raised a brow. "We specialize in fine suits, shirts, and accessories. If you're looking for a cheesy spandex overall you should check at the mall."
Erik set his jaw. He was getting more and more annoyed with this popinjay's disdainful act.
"I am attending an event at the Opera House. A masquerade. That said I need to have an appropriate outfit tailored. Here, I have the design."
He threw the sketch on the desk. The clerked picked it up and studied it for a minute.
"We don't usually do this kind of thing," he said, "but I suppose we could make this one exception. It's going to be five thousand euros, half of it in advance payment."
That was going to cost but what did he care, having picked up Thibault's wallet on his way out. For all the deeds that pig had on his account, the mysterious loss of five thousand euros wouldn't be severe enough a punishment.
"When can I pick it up?" Erik asked, preparing a handful of bills.
"Leave us your name and telephone number. We will notify you when your outfit is ready."
"Can't you at least make an estimate?"
"A month. Perhaps two."
"A month?!" Erik cried, yanking the money out of the clerk's hand. "I need that next Saturday!"
"That's impossible."
"I'll pay twice as much," Erik offered. It wasn't his money anyway.
"It takes two to three weeks to complete a simple suit," the clerk explained. "With a design this complex, a month is an absolute minimum."
"In that case, thank you. I'll try elsewhere."
The clerk smirked. "Good luck with that!"
Sending the insolent fop one final glare, Erik rushed out of the store and headed for the next one, his hopes running low. Just as he feared, the second tailor offered pretty much the same price and delivery time. So did the third and the fourth. The fifth was only more expensive. The sixth was closed for some reason and the seventh absolutely denied him service.
Defeated, he made his way back to Palais Garnier, stopping at Starbucks to get some coffee and cake on the go. Since he'd already gone to the trouble of pickpocketing Thibault, it only seemed right that he spent the money somehow.
In the time he'd known her Erik had learned that Carlotta had a sweet tooth so he thought she might appreciate a little evening treat. When coming to meet her in the Salon du Chant for their usual evening lesson, he handed her a cup of steamy latte complete with a full plate of her favorite oreo cake, she was positively gleeful.
The rest of the evening proceeded as usual, with him at the piano and Carlotta practicing the songs from the upcoming production. All the while Erik thought about how to handle the fashion issue at hand. It had eventually occurred to him that there may be a person who could help him: Jerome! The fancy-schmancy, bleached and powdered Jerome had to have some tricks up his sleeve!
The next day Erik took his sketches and went looking for the man. Eventually, he found him far in the backstage assisting Julianne's costume fitting for the upcoming performance.
"Ah, Erik!" Jerome flashed him a smile. "How are you cherie?"
"I could use your expertise in clothing," Erik said without much preamble. "Can you help me?"
"If you let Jerome pick your clothes Monsieur le Fantôme," Julianne giggled, "you'll end up wearing pinks and blues and dots and frills."
"A nice millennial pink would indeed complement your complexion way better than all those blacks. Honestly, Erik, it's about time you add some color to your wardrobe!"
"Don't listen to him! The way you dress now is very chic and sexy."
"Stop it both of you," Erik cut in.
That last comment made him feel slightly uncomfortable, especially coming from Julianne. Had she known he'd been plotting to get her conveniently undisposed so Carlotta could sing in her place!
"I like my wardrobe the way it is," he explained. "I only need a costume for the masquerade ball next week."
"Well, don't look at me!" Jerome held his hands up in surrender. "I'm a coiffeur! I make wigs not clothes."
"Can you recommend anyone?"
"Why don't you just ask someone in the costume department?" a woman sewing on little bows on Julianne's dress spoke up. "Marie perhaps? She's one of the best."
"Oh yes! She's amazing!" another seamstress added, coming from behind Julianne's huge skirt where she was left unnoticed up until now. "If you bribe her with a fine bottle of wine, you can be sure she'll make you the costume by the time of the ball."
"I guess I'd better go look for that wine!" Erik cheered. "One more thing," he added right before stepping out of the door, "where can I get some old newspapers, wax, glue, plaster wraps, regular powder plaster, and some tools?"
Jerome rose his brows. "Are you redecorating?"
"Not exactly," Erik laughed.
"You should find most of it at Leroy Merlin," the woman of the ribbons said.
The other one added, "There's one not far from here, on Rue Rambuteau. They also deliver."
"Check drug stores or orthopedic shops for the wraps."
"Well I have plenty of old newspapers at home," Julianne offered. "I can bring you some tomorrow. How many do you need?"
Damn! Now he definitely had to let her sing the lead at least this one last time!
"Bring as many as you can carry. Thank you." On second thought, he added, "Good luck at tomorrow's performance."
Leaving, he heard Julianne say in a low voice, "He couldn't have meant that last one. I'd better watch my back."
After a quick detour to the Opera Restaurant, Erik headed to the costume department. It was a large room aptly divided into smaller areas, with rows of clothes and accessories in various stages of completion, stashed along the walls.
"Hello? Is anyone in here?" he called over the low drum of sewing machines, intersected with occasional clipping of scissors.
"What?!" came a curt reply and a moment later a big angry looking woman emerged from behind a nearby separé.
"I'm Erik th-"
"I know who you are, " she cut him in half. "What do you want?"
Trying his best to stay polite in spite of the woman's rudeness, Erik said, "I'm looking for Marie. Is she in here?"
"MARIE!" the woman yelled louder than it was necessary. "THE OPERA GHOST WANTS YOU!"
"He does?" A little plain looking woman in an equally plain black sweater and jeans ran up to them. "Oh my goodness! Had I known I would've put some mascara on!"
"Quit it you silly girl!" the other seamstress reprimanded her. "The ghost doesn't give a damn about your lashes. He probably just ripped his pants or something."
"I have not," Erik countered, offended, "and you Mademoiselle," he addressed Marie, "are absolutely lovely the way you are!"
"Charmer!" Marie accused, blushing like a virgin.
"May we speak somewhere more private?"
"Naturally."
Marie led Erik deeper into the room. When they got far enough from the prying ears and eyes of the rude seamstress the ghost showed her his designs.
"Would you be able to make this by next Saturday?" he asked.
Lifting her eyes from the sketches, Marie gave him a disbelieving glare.
"You'll be properly paid for your work," Erik hurried to rectify, handing her a fat pack of banknotes.
The seamstress stared at the money, then at him, then back at the money, until she finally said, "No matter how much you pay, there's no way in the world anyone could make the outfit you envisioned in a little over a week. It's just way too complex, too detailed, and the fabrics you specify, it'd take a week only to get them."
That was it! He'd have to go for the penguin look!
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Marie," Erik said, preparing to leave.
"Where do you think you're going?" the seamstress blocked his way.
He gave her a baffled look. "You said you couldn't make the costume so I see no reason why I should take any more of your precious time."
"I can't make that costume," Marie pointed at the sketch in Erik's hands, "not on such short notice, but if you agreed to have the design changed a little I guess I could come up with something. We could save time by getting creative with some pieces and fabrics we already have in stock. We should probably rework some of the details, perhaps even skip a couple things all together."
"At this point, I'm open to suggestions."
"Okay, the thing is, I should now be finishing the costumes for tomorrow's opera. Come back here after 9 p.m. By that time that fat cow of my boss should be gone already so we can get to business."
"Oh! I almost forgot," Erik said, retrieving a bottle of Cabernet from under his jacket. "Please, accept this as a token of my gratitude."
"Why, thank you." Marie checked the gift. "In this case, when you come back later, bring also a couple of glasses."
Erik nodded and left Marie with her work but he returned later in the evening, just as she had requested.
Having a glass of wine, they set to work, discussing possible adjustments to Erik's design so it would be possible to complete it within the short time frame given. The changes ended up being substantial, but Erik decided Marie's vision of the Red Death was highly intriguing, and eventually approved almost everything she came up with.
He came for a fitting a few times during the week, every time past 9 p.m. and bearing a bottle of red wine and two glasses. In between sartorial adjustments, they talked a bit and he learned that the seamstress was single, had two cats and enjoyed mystery novels. She was kind, and before he even realized it Erik opened up to her, talking his own liking for felines, classical music, and quality wine.
The outfit was coming out magnificently and by the time it was complete, Erik was ready to admit Marie was an absolute fashion genius.
The death mask was another matter. Getting all the supplies needed, Erik prepared a plaster cast of his own head he intended to use to model his new mask on. It wasn't an easy job to do, especially without assistance, but he managed to make the cast without getting plaster in his eyes or ripping his brows out. With the newspapers he got from Julianne he prepared some papier-mâché paste and using the traditional Venetian technique, he meticulously molded a full face skull-shaped mask.
The night of the masquerade, Erik put his finished costume and mask on and checked the watch. Almost 10 p.m. It was show time!
Next chapter: The masquerade ball! The Red Death is stalking abroad!
What do you think Erik's new costume looks like? Well, you can be sure it's red :D
What about Carlotta? How will she react to Erik's declaration? Hmmm... perhaps she'll faint!
Does anyone have ideas about where this story is heading? I'd gladly hear them!
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