At first, Phryne had thought about taking the underground but the thought of feeling that she was always in someone's way wasn't something she missed very much and Selfridges wasn't that far anyway.
While she had her own money, it had felt in poor taste to mention it considering the perilous financial conditions of her parents but Phryne was impatient to get out of her flying outfit.(Due to the lack of a warmer coat, wearing her pyjamas as if it were a glamourous suit wasn't exactly practical). She guessed she could have borrowed something from her mother for that day at least yet she longed for something new and more 'her'. Waking up in London had been strange enough, even after a month of waking up other places other than Australia, and she didn't have the time to wait for custom pieces so ready-to-wear would be perfectly suitable.
Phryne wasn't exactly a woman of clichés, but there seemed to be no other way to describe the weather but 'crisp', she thought, as she approached Grosvenor Place and the Buckingham Palace Gardens. Sun streaked from behind the clouds and the air felt more invigorating than cold somehow. She arranged the scarf around her neck and continued walking as she took in the noisy traffic, the hurried pedestrians, and the green treetops beyond the wall on her right. There was a certain comfort in covering that familiar ground, greeted by the memory of having done the same with Diana, Amalia, Maud and Louisa, of the nerves about being presented to the King and Queen at Court without falling and making a fool of oneself as ridiculous as the whole affair might seem, of how they breezed through the garden parties thrown there, excited about life, their new dresses, sharing those hours with each other, flirting with whom they felt like (and who might not be exactly who their families were envisioning) and scandalising others by being favourited by princes and other titled or titled-to-be who had been deemed someone else's ideal match.
She smiled at herself. Miss Fisher didn't dwell much on the past, but it was slightly more difficult not to when it had been that pleasant and apparently made even more so by the war that marred it afterwards and the fact that Amalia had died of the Spanish Flu ten years ago.
Nevertheless the busyness and the central role of those streets in the city covering it, London seemed duller than when she had last been here, the looming end of the post-war prosperity had come to form meanwhile, boosted by a difficult context and the Great Strike of 1926. It was hitting the north of England and Wales harder but the thought of the many people afflicted made her heart twist and yet she couldn't help but be carried by the good memories made over the years at the same times. The contradiction made her feel ashamed although she had lived enough to uphold the importance of the happy moments one did have among the darkness of some daily lives. That's one of the hardest things of being human, Phryne thought, having to deal with all those contrasts without being crushed under it all and/or going mad.
Phryne walked into Hyde Park from under Burton's Ionic Screen and her mind flashed to picnics and walks and the elaborate scavenger hunts which had taken place around those places on foot, by motorcar and public transportation as she made her way through it.
In that moment, Phryne felt she had lived a lot. Many chapters, spread across many countries, and populated by many people. She guessed that being alone at last and in that simultaneously familiar and strange environment had unleashed all those reflections, the long trip to London having had been occupied by keeping both the plane and her father up in the air. Henry might have been a bit regretful when his return to England had become a fait accomplit but as the month went on, he had retreated into his irresponsible and sleazy ways, trying to snake his way out of Phryne's supervision. They had quarreled often and there had been days when they had barely talked; if they had done so beyond the strictly necessary words, things would have soured even more. If not for the promise Phryne had made to Aunt Prudence, her mother, and, even in a way, to herself as well as her own persistence, she would have given up. It was all coming too close to her childhood patterns for her to be comfortable with it. 'Relief' could hardly cover the feeling which had taken over her when she had landed the plane in English soil at last. She would still have to endure the car ride until Chester Square, but she could do that.
People walked by and looked puzzlingly at her, remarking on her particular outfit. Usually, Phryne wouldn't care about it but she preferred to be the centre of attention when she chose to and this circumstance made her feel uneasy – she felt very vulnerable in that moment.
Soon she was in the known streets of Mayfair, strolling alongside the imposing red brick buildings. The swirl of traffic in the intersection of Oxford, Orchard, and North Audley Streets felt like an odd balm and she felt more like herself when she walked into Selfridges. Phryne absolutely loved to have adventures in remote places, but she also liked to pamper herself.
Light chatter filled the store and saleswomen moved briskly behind the counters. Phryne browsed around looking for new red lipstick, rouge, and perfume, given that those she had brought from Australia had barely been enough for the trip.
Pleased with her purchases, Phryne caught a lift and asked the operator to take her to ladies' fashion. The girl politely said 'of course' and Miss Fisher was soon amidst the most fashionable garments of the season.
She planned on shipping clothes ahead if there was any need, but she still tried more outfits than those she meant to buy out of sheer fun. And oh, what fun it had been. She hadn't shopped by herself in a while but it didn't hinder her enjoyment. In the end, Phryne chose a black, white and red tweed skirt-suit with a long coat trimmed with a fur collar and a white knitted blouse. She wore it right away with a felt black hat with a matching silk ribbon and two short feathers in the back and black leather shoes and handbag, having her shopping and her flying clothes to be delivered at Chester Square so she could carry on with her day unencumbered. Perhaps a bit too dark, but it was autumn in London, it was bound to be a bit darker than what she had been wearing so far.
After an invigorating cup of tea and slice of cake at the roof terrace as well as a bit of rest to recover from the walk there, Phryne decided to make her way back to Oxford Street through the stairs.
When she reached the men's department, she meant to keep walking, but a rack of ties caught her attention. At first, she walked surely to it. In different colours and patterns, those were beautiful ties, she thought as she looked at them and there was a dark green one with burnt orange squares she could see appealing to Jack a great deal. She paused. Would it be too forward of her to get him a gift? It wasn't even a question of price because it wasn't expensive – she was particularly aware of how their financial standings could bring some pressure at some point even if it had never been an issue so far (but they had never had to reckon with it yet). It relied on the act itself. Her previous doubts crept up again and she felt at sea with all the newness of the situation. But she had been the one to come away. Phryne didn't feel the need to compensate for it, but it did seem to tip the scales a bit.
She bought the tie and had it gift wrapped. Phryne would still have some time until she came by the post office if she wanted to ship it.
A/N: Thank you for reading this new chapter.
While I don't call it like that, I took the liberty of including Phryne among the 'Bright Young Things', as the tabloids called the famous group of young aristocrats and socialites in 1920s London. They were quite out there, throwing fancy dress parties, intricate nighttime scavenger hunts around London, and taking full advantage of the decade's mindset. Cecil Beaton, the Mitford sisters, Noel Coward, Freda Dudley Ward, and Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon were some of its members.
Despite the many times I mention it, I'm not exactly trying to advertise Selfridges. I included in the story because it was quite something in the landscape of London's shopping not only due to the imposing building (which design was only completely finished in 1928) but also in terms of marketing and sales practices. Example: for long, make-up was considered quite scandalous so it was thrown in the back of shops, respectable women weren't supposed to wear it after all. Harry Gordon Selfridge scrapped that and put it front and center right on the ground floor, the first thing customers would see, setting a template that was followed by department stores back then and which is still adopted today. Publicity events like the display of the first plane to cross the Channel or the development of elaborate and eye-catching windows were also other examples of this new approach to shopping. Willing to attract the young clientele, Selfridges strived to have the latest trends available and to make shopping there an experience (something that had been the foundation of its marketing strategy since the beginning). The terrace did exist and held a «a mini golf course and an all-girl gun club» (thank yo, wikipedia) and was also the set for fashion shows. The ornate lifts were quite something to behold and became so iconic that there's even one on display at the Museum of London (after they were taken out during refurbishments in the 70s). The fact that they had female operators was also newsworthy at the time since it was basically unheard of.
For Phryne, I borrowed a Lucile Paray outfit from a 1929 L'Officiel de La Mode article and made some tweaks to it. (Thank you, internet for digitalised archives)
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm afraid I still have some things more to develop though.
Feedback is appreciated as always.
