Solo Vogue

[Rosela]

Timestamp: 20th – 24th of Fall, 512AV Only a few days open, and Rosela’s shop wasn’t quite the booming success that she’d hoped. Bell by bell she watched people walk by her window, and though some stopped to peer inside with at least some interest, not nearly enough were coming in. Granted, it had been open less than a week, but it was depressing. The evening bell rang out over the city, and Rosela trudged up to the front to change her sign to Closed. She hated being helpless in the popularity of her shop. Theoretically, she could be out there drumming up gossip and word of mouth advertising, but then who would run the shop? Even if she got a desk clerk from the Labor Aid, she couldn’t trust just anybody to make the sales she knew she could. This shop was her big chance, and it could not be trusted in just anybody’s hands. After locking up, she meandered the city instead of going straight home. She told herself she’d go out and see if she could draw a few customers away from the Warrens, but in truth, going back to her little cottage hurt, now that she was so close to striking it big. People passed her, men, women, and children, and most didn’t spare her a glance as they went about their own evening duties. A group of children ran by, heaving their bags along behind them. Shorts and pressed shirts, for school most likely. She didn’t like designing for children – too tame. She passed a pregnant Konti, waddling slowly up the hill. Kontis in Riverfall all seemed to dress the same, flowing whites, dresses and delicate things. There certainly were exceptions, as the Konti that ran the Sanctuary outside of town, whatever her name was, dressed down a lot more than Rosela would have expected for someone of her race. Then again, flowing whites probably weren’t conducive to keeping horses and messy things like that. The blacksmith up the street, a young Akalak with delicious bulging muscles, was also locking up for the night and nodded warmly to her. She smiled and nodded back, but kept walking. There’d be another day for chasing that fish. As much as she liked his muscles, his fashion sense was somewhat lacking. Leather bracers were laced onto each arm, and an old, stained leather apron only came off after he’d locked the door and started up the road. His trousers were dark green, but equally old and ripped. Many, if not most, of the Akalaks in town dressed in earthy colors, which usually did compliment their range of skin tones. They were a hard working bunch, and whites probably wouldn’t stay white very long. At the top of the stairs to the upper tier, Rosela had to step quickly out of the way of a human man with spectacles as he hurried by her, autumn leaves flying in his wake. He muttered an apology as he passed, but Rosela stopped to watch him descend the stairs, two at a time. He was dressed formally, with a wool coat of decent cut, and pressed trousers. His coat didn’t appear to have been made for him, and she irritably noted the ill-fitted shoulders as he continued running along the street at the end of the stairs. She could have altered that for him in two chimes, but nobody had asked so he could just wander Riverfall looking cheap for all she cared. By the time she arrived home, Rosela was thoroughly tired. Keeping a shop was even harder when nobody came, and the walk back across town at the end of the day didn’t help. It was halfway through dinner when the thought crept across her mind. Were the styles she sold really…fashionable, in the Riverfall sense? She of course thought they were even better, but maybe the ignorant masses needed her to dumb things down for them. Well, even more than she already had. Munching thoughtfully on her bread, she leaned back and crossed her legs. One foot began to bounce as she worked through her thoughts. By the time she finished her bread, she tossed the crust down and had a plan. She couldn’t know what she was missing if she didn’t find it out first. Therefore, research was in order.

[Rosela]

The Library opened before her shop did, so Rosela had time to be in and out of it with a stack of books and back to the shop in time to open. No one still came for the first two hours so she was knee deep in a book before her first customer of the day. It was an Akalak who apparently worked down at the Valkalah Academy and had ripped his pants wide open. Without enough time to go all the way home, he’d borrowed a friend’s spare and come to the nearest clothing shop – hers. Despite the clear opportunity for a good flirt, Rosela made a sale of a solid wool pair, sturdier than the cotton he’d had, and sent him on his way. The history books were dull and vacuous, but the pictures were what she was after. The current one was on trade history, and had etchings of ‘typical’ workers of varying professions. She’d discovered with dismay at the start that Riverfall hadn’t even existed before the Valterrian, making her options for a classical look far more retro than she’d like. It seemed Rivarians of the past dressed much like they did in the current day, function over form. The leather bracers and aprons she saw on the working men around town were in also most of the historical etchings. Large belts seemed to be popular fashion back then, but as Loads of Leather had the corner on the leather accessories market, she was out of luck there. Heaving that book aside, she started on another, this one on this history of weaving in the area. It was a small book, and Rosela flipped through with fading interest. It had been a half baked idea to start with, but at least she’d given it a shot. She came across many pictures of different weaves and looms, but only one image worth examining, a human or Konti woman draped in a length of fabric, wrapped around her waist and thrown over her shoulder to hang in the back. Fingers drumming on her chin, Rosela held up the book as she sat back at her desk. It was an interesting look, very flowing and Konti-like. Pulling a design paper out of her stack, she doodled up a few variations and set it aside. It would require a lot of fine fabric to drape properly, but it was worth trying out. The third and last book she’d found before she had to rush out the library was actually a crumbling children’s book about jobs young Akalaks could look forward to when they grew up. Most of the images were useless, too close to what she already saw out in the city. A few did catch her attention towards the end however, making the book a bigger success than either of the more serious books she’d spent her time on. Mr. Weaver, a tall Akalak man, was wearing an unusual kind of suit, with loose pants and a very long shirt that looked almost like a nightshirt. It fell to his knees with rounded slits up the sides, and if not for the finely etched embroidery around the trim, she might have mistaken it as nightwear. Grabbing another piece of paper, she made a few more doodles, as well as a note to try it with a belt, tunic-style. One of the last images in the book was about Mr. Horse Trainer and apparently his lady friend who didn’t merit an introduction. While the Mr. was in the common shirt and trouser combination, the woman was in a kind of hood-less poncho, thickly knitted in a brown and tan pattern with long fringe along the bottom. Nibbling on the end of her pencil, Rosela wondered what a high class variation of it would look like, silk with extensive embroidery, maybe some cute buttons down the front so a woman on the town didn’t have to mess up her hair to get it off. She was just finishing up her doodles when a couple of men wandered in, looking lost. They admitted they were looking for clothing, but didn’t know where to start. Shuffling the papers and books away, Rosela put on a wide smile and prepared for a long afternoon that hopefully ended in a sale.

[Rosela]

The next day was her day off, but she woke up the same bell she would have if it weren’t. She’d taken another look at her drawings at the end of the day yesterday and still hadn’t hated them, so her research project was obviously going well. As expected, she was far less excited about the men’s outfit she’d planned, as opposed to the women’s, but she’d do what she had to. Over breakfast, she planned out her day, trying to maximize her time. She had two spots to scope out for ideas, representing either end of the wealth spectrum. First up was the Warrens, a place she knew well. She wasn’t interested in catering to the small percentage of truly poor in the town, but much of the middle class stopped in there. Not only would she see plenty of what was being worn, but she would see what was being sold. She’d die before copying someone else, especially one of those amateurs, but if there was a trend happening, she needed to be on top of it. By mid morning, the bazaar was usually getting into full swing, with mothers finally rid of children for the day, and late sleeping Akalaks on their day off. She'd been through window shopping enough times that she knew exactly where the popular clothing stalls were, and made a subsequent beeline for them. A pencil and folded pieces of paper were stuffed into her pocket, for notes. She wasn’t sure she could trust her memory well enough to remember clothing samples without unconsciously altering them. The scarf shop was the first she passed, one she had drooled over many times before. She knew the ones she liked best almost by heart, but paused across the way to really look this time. She didn’t want to be bothered by the proprietor, especially not now that she was competition. Rosela favored the wispy scarves, with their long fringe and light fabrics, but the popular style on the stand leaned more towards the warmer styles of dyed wool and knitting. Seeing her second instance of fashion knitting, she made a mental note to look into learning it for herself or hiring someone who could. Further down were two clothing stalls that were always good for a look, if only for the two women running them. Rosela couldn’t say how long they’d been at it, considering she’d only arrived in the city weeks ago, but it was clear the women considered themselves deep in intense competition. As humorous as it sometimes got, Rosela figured the pair were the closest thing to trendsetters in the city. This week, it was cloaks, unsurprising given the growing autumn chill. The woman to the right, a sweet-faced elderly Konti woman, had put up a display of fur and fur lined cloaks, advertised for warmth. The woman to the left, a bustling, heavy set woman with wild red hair, also had cloaks displayed, advertising their high fashion in embroidery and accessories, and their use in snaring a partner of the preferred sex. A particular cloak on the left caught her eye, with glass beads woven into the top layer of the wool. Stepping back into the shadow of another stall, Rosela quickly pulled out her pencil and paper, doodling up the cloak, making a series of quick dots to indicate the beads. It was hard to duplicate the shimmering effect on paper, so she made an extra written note to the side on the matter. The last stop in the Warrens was unfortunately one she couldn’t make from a distance, but was still valuable to make. In a small stall nearly tucked away in an alley between two other stalls, a mousy young human woman sold women’s undergarments. Rosela slipped in, and with a quick greeting to the owner, looked around. With the Festival of Love coming up in the winter, many of the racier garments were on display now, for the early planners. Most of this was as expected: lots of lace, sheer silk, and strategically placed fringe. It seemed teasing calculated amounts of skin was sexy the world over, and she left without having gained any ideas she hadn’t already thought of. It was lunch time by the time she made it out of the Warrens, and she retreated back home for a quick lunch before setting out again. She’d seen what the common people wore; next up were the rich.

[Rosela]

According to the map of the city, there were only a couple places distinctly marked as upper class dwellings: Skyview Condos, Suvan Suites, and Bluevein Apartments. Rosela figured she’d dress up a little, wander around and see what people were wearing. Bluevein was closest, so she figured she’d start there, and decided she’d only go to Suvan if she was desperate. It was the pinnacle of wealth, but run by a woman Rosela suspected to be only half-Eypharian and all-snob. She’d never met the woman of course, only running on the word of those who worked under her and thus were in Rosela's realm of overheard gossip. For this case of research, she’d have to dip into her shop a bit and wear one of her own designs around. The thought of wearing her common dress and cloak through those neighborhoods horrified, infuriated, and overwhelmingly depressed her. She spent far too long back at the shop picking out something to wear. It hadn’t escaped her thoughts that she was possibly doing some very good advertising for herself, which could technically excuse the use of her dress for personal wear. She finally settled on the most expensive dress she'd made, a white sleeveless dress with layers of fading colored fabric that had been a lucky, but pricey, find at the fabric shop. She’d sewn glass beads into the hem of each layer, creating the same shimmering effect that she’d seen on the cloak in the Warrens. An elaborate setup of glass beads connected a long, sheer scarf that dangled in the back to a broach effect at her chest. Rather than wear her own plain jeweled necklace, she opted for an open, clean look without accessories. She felt bare without some kind of jewelry, but she forced herself to acknowledge that it wasn’t that bad. In Riverfall, hair paint and extensive jewelry weren’t always the marks of power. Bluevein was a small complex, and nearby, so she entered with a fresh look and a sense of purpose. The breeze was starting to kick up, and flattered her dress nicely. She wished she could have had a large brimmed hat to match. Not many people were around, and those she did see were either servants out running errands or matrons so bundled up in velvets and silks that fashion advice was useless. On the rare man, straight lines seemed to be in order, though the few elderly ones could’ve done with a few relaxed lines in their overall look. Lots of vertical lines looked good on young, well built men, but on the older ones, with less muscle and more beard, a little relaxation should be in order. While the elderly weren’t in her target audience, she paused to doodle up a flowing pantsuit, with a plain scarf over the shoulders. Before folding the paper back up, she added a big curly beard, just for fun. Though she didn’t learn much, she headed home at dinner time, resolving to leave the other two suites for when she could afford to cater to a wealthier audience. Perhaps some grand event would bring out the fashionistas, but she hadn’t seen any around just taking a walk. That night, she dreamt of herself in one of those high suites, looking out over the ocean from a bundle of velvet bedsheets.

[Rosela]

The next morning came as it always had, but Rosela bounded out of bed and headed for the shop with a spring in her step. The fancy dress was in a bag, immaculate and ready to be replaced onto the shelf. The drawings she’d made were still in her purse, and the source of her excitement. Today, she’d make her research pay off and look into what she might change in her lineup to be more appealing. The morning was slow, as usual, and she spent most of the day running in and out of the propped-open back door. In the back her doodles from the previous day were spread out on the desk, and various fabrics were unfolded and overlaid to compare and see how they matched. A few customers came in, though they all wanted something simple off the shelf, and one woman with two Akalak boys in tow had to be turned away with the disappointment that she didn’t have any children’s clothing made up. Despite her protests that she could easily make up a few pieces, the apologetic woman had quickly left. The loss of a sale was disappointing, but in the back, things were going well. She’d decided on the patterned silk for the draped affair she’d first found in the history book, and had found some loose linen for the classy men’s suit she’d seen in the Bluevein Suites. A length of creamy cotton made up the scarf for it quite nicely. She sat at the front desk as she knotted up the fringe, watching people pass by the front windows in the light of the setting sun. The latch hook was a bit too big for the job of weaving each tassel into the end of the scarf, but she worked slowly, poking the hole, pulling the fringe through, and knotting it again. Looking at the last of her sketches, the silk poncho affair, she sighed and put it away into her Someday pile. Extensive embroidery wasn’t her strong point, and embroidery would have to be the strong point of the piece. Unless… Tentatively, she picked up the paper and resketched it, without embroidery, with a pair of long gloves and a straight cut dress of the same fabric. The poncho got a slight collar on it, and the buttons became more formal, with small hoops of fabric instead of buttonholes. She imagined it in a sky blue, with perhaps a corsage of a color complementary to the hair color. Satisfied, she put the sketch aside and got up to check what colors of silk she had in the back. The end of the day came quickly with her popping in and out of the back room to work on her latest design. She’d never liked making gloves, and had to scrap some very valuable silk in order to make a second pair after the first started turning out crooked. The silk had distorted when cutting the fourchettes, and the trank seam had ended up so wildly crooked it was impossible to fix. Another try at the silk, with double the number of pins to keep it straight while she cut, and the gloves were finished. The only hiccups in the shawl were the buttonhole loops, which were too small to make out of the fabric like she wanted. A few loops of embroidery floss were stitched in instead, made stronger by a series of buttonhole stitches over the loops. Rosela paraded it out proudly to the front window, replacing another dress that was displayed there. While cleaning up the back, she found the roll of fur she’d taken out for her cloak idea and had never used. Fingering it, she tried to remember the look of the Konti woman’s cloaks in the Warrens. It was late however, and it would have to be a project for tomorrow.

[Rosela]

The next day was cold when she stepped outside, and Rosela shivered discreetly the whole way to her shop. It was a very strategic day to work on cloaks. The rolls of fur were still in the back where she’d left them, and she stared at them, planning, for the few minutes before she opened. It was an excruciatingly slow day, as not many people wanted to come out and shop in such bitter weather. As the wind whistled around the building, she felt slightly spastic after a few hours of jumping up to check the door after mistaking a rattling branch outside for the creak of her front door. The cloak, as expected, was difficult, and she tirelessly worked and reworked stitches to keep it right. Fur was always a pain to sew, just to keep the fur itself out of the stitches. It left very distinctive matting where edges were caught, and Rosela had to admit to herself that if the cloak couldn’t go out correctly, it couldn’t go out at all. She started with baseball stitches, which she always considered nicer looking, but gave it up as too much work for too little benefit and continued with the standard whip-stitches. The trick she was going for was something she’d seen in the Konti’s cloak selection, but hadn’t written down. There was a very masterful blending of fur colors into a design on the back, though Rosela knew she didn’t have the skill to do anything complex. A simple design, a downward facing triangle perhaps, would be elegant enough. The bells whiled themselves away in silence, with a single male customer stopping in for a replacement scarf his wife had lost in the wind. Despite a suggestion to upgrade to a fine silk one, he opted for warmth and went away with a patterned wool one. In the end, Rosela moved the fur cloak to the front desk, tired of worrying about what sounds were the door and what were not. She finished it just before the closing bell, but she still tucked it away for a final inspection the following morning before she trusted it to be sold. She'd used a pile of pins to keep it straight while she sewed, and it would simply be the end of her if she missed one in there and someone got stuck with it. Climbing the roads back to her home, she wondered how much a proper fireplace would be. This of course led to a series of thoughts on the benefits of fur rugs, plush furniture, and velvet bedsheets. By the time she arrived home, she found it disappointing and almost wanted to go back and sleep in the shop. It was hurtful to think that her own home was less inviting than the shop she’d made. It was logically understandable though – as the cottage had been paid for with her own money, or at least the money she’d gotten from her mother’s jewelry, while the business had been paid for by the Council. She fell asleep that night, dreaming once again of a high apartment in the Suvan Suites.

[Jackalope]

Rosela

Award

Skill	XP Earned	Lore Earned
Observation	+3	Contemplating Your Inventory
Planning	+4	Riverfall Doesn't Predate the Valterrian
Fashion Design	+5	Examining Other Businesses to Determine Style
Sewing	+2	Designing Clothing by Status
		Working with Fur

Witty Remark Here

Another good thread, Rosela! Great to see you embracing this business, and I appreciate you slowly building to success! Keep it up! If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.