Fashion Fantasy

By: Cousin Mary (5-98)

Just after dusk you get home and slam the door behind you. You've just had a horrible day! In a few days you'll be starting your new summer retail job and you've been shopping for slacks. You usually just wear skirts to work, but due to the amount of time you'll be spending on ladders at this one, you'll need to wear pants.

It is 90 degrees out, the air conditioning in your car is broken and out of the 8 stores you went to, no one carried the 'talls' you need. "What is it with these people?" You whine. "Why do they hate tall people?"

Since slamming the door hadn't really satisfy your anger at the world, you throw your purse across the room, it hits the wall with a loud Bang! There, now you feel a little better.

With a disgusted snort, you plop yourself down on your couch. It's not that you're -that- tall. 5'10" isn't exactly Godzilla material after all! You glance down at the pile of catalogs on your coffee table, sure you could special order the darn things if need be, but heck, you didn't want to spend three times the money just to get a couple more inches of material! Just to humor your rage a bit more, you tip over the table and send the glossy ads crashing to the floor.

"Well, well. We -are- in a mood tonight aren't we?" Comes that oh-so familiar voice from somewhere behind you.

Jumping to your feet, you spin madly around and almost lose your balance. "Nunkies!" You exclaim.

He gives you that small half smile-half smirk and moves to your side. He then takes your hand in his and lifts it to his lips. "What seems to be the problem my dear?" He asks after depositing a cool kiss in the center of your palm.

"Problem?" You mumble. How were you supposed to be expected to remember your mundane gripes when Nunkies was in your house!

Lacroix raises an eye brow, then glances around your living room, his eyes pausing a moment on the door you'd slammed, the wall you'd heaved your purse at (where all the pictures now hung crookedly) and finally on the pile of wrinkled catalogs pooled at your feet. "Yes," He looks back into your eyes. "Who is it that has you so upset? I'd be happy to avenge you, you know." He gives you a wicked grin, apparently pleased by the very idea.

You just stare at his smile for a moment, waiting for your brain to switch back on. When it does you tell him, "No, no one in particular." Then you sigh martyrs-style, "It's just these stores, they don't carry 'talls,' or if they do they expect you to pay nearly twice as much for them. And they never go on sale or anything."

He glances up and down your body, as if to gauge just how tall you are. (This does funny things to your belly.) "But you are no taller than any of those models," He indicates the fallen ads with a flick of his wrist. "Surly if they can be fitted so can you."

"Yeah, well those are the models," You say, "In truth they were all specially fitted. In the real world the industry -hates- tall women." You pause dramatically. "The only way to go seems to be to get guy's pants. But then you have that huge baggy waist that looks stupid and you have to fold and pin it to make it fit right…" You trail off, aware of how petty your complaints are, but still really annoyed about this facet of your world.

"I see." He says, "Well we can't have that can we?" He looks you up and down again. "We can't have that lovely figure hidden under a man's wardrobe."

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The next morning you wake up in your own bed, alone, but happy. You can't remember just how you spent last night ('cause this list is PG <eg>) but you're pretty sure you had a good time. You sit up slowly and stretch your hands above your head.

Looking around, your mind more on coffee than anything else, you suddenly notice the boxes. Dozens of them! Jumping out of bed you dart around ripping them open. A whole new wardrobe! And it looks like everything was custom made just for you! Finally! Pants that go below your ankles!

After going through nearly all the boxes, you reach the final two. The second to the last is a beautiful ball gown, floor length. Taking in the exquisite gown you marvel at it. You've never worn a floor length before; you'd never been able to find one that would fit right. But this one looks perfect.

Moving on to the final box, you notice it's too narrow and long to be more clothes… You open it and discover three dozen white roses, stuck in with the fragrant blooms is an ivory note card.

Plucking it out, you read, "I hope my gifts please you. Perhaps you should wear the gown tonight?" It was signed, "With much affection, Lucien."

You give a squeal of delight and head down stairs for that coffee. Never had fashion been so much fun!

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<Sigh> I needed that, Thanks for indulging me. <g>