oocHe is fabulous and you can no longer deny it!
Something had changed regarding the acrobat’s performance. Amelia slowly came to realise that it was the climax of his act, judging by the heavy drumroll from his musical accomplice. This disappointed her, and not just because it indicated that her sketching session would also be coming to a close. She had enjoyed the challenge of designing dresses for a person that she presumed never wore them. And to reward her oblivious model, she would design a garment for him that not only was more suitable for his sex, but his profession as well.
Britches were an obvious choice. They would allow the acrobat to flip and twist with ease and maintain his masculinity in a way that a dress simply would not allow. Amelia lifted her gaze from her sketch to the performer, tilting her head as she considered what exact style of trouser would be best.
Tight trousers would give him the support that Amelia assumed an acrobat needed. But then, what material was stretchy enough to allow for such exaggerated movements without tearing?
She had little experience in designing clothes for men, and even less for male acrobats. But this was a challenge that was right up Amelia’s street; the combination of fashion design, practical thinking and planning excited her. She touched charcoal to the parchment again, this time starting on a fresh, blank page. Starting with an oval for his face, Amelia added a generic-looking pair of eyes, a nose and mouth that was twisted into a mischievous grimace.
Next, his body. Unlike her previous sketches, Amelia stayed true to the male’s real form, omitting the womanly curves and breasts that she had added when it was the dresses she was designing. These were drawn so faintly that they were barely visible, and would be mere guides for when Amelia came to sketch the garments. She sketched the male in a wide-legged stance, arms out outstretched in a confident pose.
For now, though, she had to give some serious thought about what exact clothes she would design for the acrobat. Tight trousers had been discarded as an option, but common sense told Amelia that loose garments were no better: it would make it all too easier for a performer to get tangled up in his own outfit. She would need to combine the flexibility a stretch of loose trousers with the support of tight…
Amelia sighed. It was hard work, this designing!
Eventually she came to a conclusion: hareem-style pants! Being tight at the ankle and hips, they would give support and the looseness around the leg would allow for much needed stretchiness. She sketched the trousers, starting with a narrow waist band before fanning out on the thighs and calves before trimming back in around the ankle. The words loose, yet supportive and colours: purple? Black? Pink? Bright = eye catching! were written beside the sketched trousers.
The upper half of the male was easier to dress: a simple sleeveless vest would be more than suitable. Though not exactly suitable for the current season, Amelia felt that a man willing to balance precariously on a chair was hardly going to bother about winter chill.
She briefly admired her work, the progress from the rushed dresses to the more detailed and considered acrobatic outfit. If she were ever truly to make herself an appreciated and sought-after fashion designer, she needed to be willing to branch out and design a variety of garments. The task of thinking of an outfit for a male acrobat had served as enough of a challenge to inspire Amelia to want to dress everyone around her. She could suddenly imagine the dirty-faced little boy scurrying past her in a dapper shirt and pair of shorts. The mopey-looking teenager standing at the back of the crowd only needed to be dressed in a flattering outfit to bring out her confidence.
Fingers twitching with excitement, Amelia stood up. She had run out of parchment, and wanted to hurry back home before her enthusiasm waned. But first, she pushed herself through the crowd to reach the musician. “Give your friend this when he’s finished, please.” She said above the booms of her drum, placing a folded up piece of parchment beside the woman. With that, Amelia glanced to the acrobat one final time to appreciate his art before she turned on her heel and returned home, to work on her own.
The parchment was half letter, half invitation. It would inform Brandon of his role as accidental inspiration for Amelia’s sketches and designs, and would include one sketch of him in a fabulous lilac lace dress, and the acrobat’s outfit she had last drawn before leaving. The words Amelia Trisswell, of The Silk Palace were signed at the bottom of the page.
Something had changed regarding the acrobat’s performance. Amelia slowly came to realise that it was the climax of his act, judging by the heavy drumroll from his musical accomplice. This disappointed her, and not just because it indicated that her sketching session would also be coming to a close. She had enjoyed the challenge of designing dresses for a person that she presumed never wore them. And to reward her oblivious model, she would design a garment for him that not only was more suitable for his sex, but his profession as well.
Britches were an obvious choice. They would allow the acrobat to flip and twist with ease and maintain his masculinity in a way that a dress simply would not allow. Amelia lifted her gaze from her sketch to the performer, tilting her head as she considered what exact style of trouser would be best.
Tight trousers would give him the support that Amelia assumed an acrobat needed. But then, what material was stretchy enough to allow for such exaggerated movements without tearing?
She had little experience in designing clothes for men, and even less for male acrobats. But this was a challenge that was right up Amelia’s street; the combination of fashion design, practical thinking and planning excited her. She touched charcoal to the parchment again, this time starting on a fresh, blank page. Starting with an oval for his face, Amelia added a generic-looking pair of eyes, a nose and mouth that was twisted into a mischievous grimace.
Next, his body. Unlike her previous sketches, Amelia stayed true to the male’s real form, omitting the womanly curves and breasts that she had added when it was the dresses she was designing. These were drawn so faintly that they were barely visible, and would be mere guides for when Amelia came to sketch the garments. She sketched the male in a wide-legged stance, arms out outstretched in a confident pose.
For now, though, she had to give some serious thought about what exact clothes she would design for the acrobat. Tight trousers had been discarded as an option, but common sense told Amelia that loose garments were no better: it would make it all too easier for a performer to get tangled up in his own outfit. She would need to combine the flexibility a stretch of loose trousers with the support of tight…
Amelia sighed. It was hard work, this designing!
Eventually she came to a conclusion: hareem-style pants! Being tight at the ankle and hips, they would give support and the looseness around the leg would allow for much needed stretchiness. She sketched the trousers, starting with a narrow waist band before fanning out on the thighs and calves before trimming back in around the ankle. The words loose, yet supportive and colours: purple? Black? Pink? Bright = eye catching! were written beside the sketched trousers.
The upper half of the male was easier to dress: a simple sleeveless vest would be more than suitable. Though not exactly suitable for the current season, Amelia felt that a man willing to balance precariously on a chair was hardly going to bother about winter chill.
She briefly admired her work, the progress from the rushed dresses to the more detailed and considered acrobatic outfit. If she were ever truly to make herself an appreciated and sought-after fashion designer, she needed to be willing to branch out and design a variety of garments. The task of thinking of an outfit for a male acrobat had served as enough of a challenge to inspire Amelia to want to dress everyone around her. She could suddenly imagine the dirty-faced little boy scurrying past her in a dapper shirt and pair of shorts. The mopey-looking teenager standing at the back of the crowd only needed to be dressed in a flattering outfit to bring out her confidence.
Fingers twitching with excitement, Amelia stood up. She had run out of parchment, and wanted to hurry back home before her enthusiasm waned. But first, she pushed herself through the crowd to reach the musician. “Give your friend this when he’s finished, please.” She said above the booms of her drum, placing a folded up piece of parchment beside the woman. With that, Amelia glanced to the acrobat one final time to appreciate his art before she turned on her heel and returned home, to work on her own.
The parchment was half letter, half invitation. It would inform Brandon of his role as accidental inspiration for Amelia’s sketches and designs, and would include one sketch of him in a fabulous lilac lace dress, and the acrobat’s outfit she had last drawn before leaving. The words Amelia Trisswell, of The Silk Palace were signed at the bottom of the page.
