10) The Dress Becomes Her

Spi stood on the sidewalk surveying the shopping district. Larger department stores anchored the intersection of two major streets with individual shops filling the ground floor of tall buildings as far as she could see. The morning sun was warm, and the entire area buzzed with energy.

Spi closed her eyes and spun around. Then, opening her eyes back up she headed in the direction she was facing. Down 2nd street she went, feeling like she was headed somewhere definite. About half a block down Spi stopped short. There, right in front of her was what she could only describe as a Water Nymph. A beautiful lady standing behind a window pane, her dress appearing to flow right out of her body in a cascade of water. The sunlight caught the fabric, bringing out textures and color that made the fabric appear to flow.

This is the place, Spi thought as she confidently stepped through the threshold. She curved around the entrance to the window box, where the dress was on display. Without the morning sun dancing across its threads, the illusion evaporated. The water nymph became a mannequin and the waterfall went flat, becoming a mere print on fabric. It was still beautiful but just not... magical. As she reached out to touch the fabric she heard a stiff "Ah-hem!" behind her.

Spi paused and turned to meet the gaze of a very stiff and plastic looking woman. Immaculate and obviously dyed hair, impeccable make up and what looked like a designer suit accentuated her air of importance. Spi glanced down and momentarily felt sorry for the woman... she had the most uncomfortable looking, foot squeezing, stiletto heels she had ever seen!

"Don't touch the merchandise,” the woman said in an icy tone.

Spi wasn't sure whether to be amused or appalled. Surely this isn't how shop associates met their customers.

"Good morning," Spi smiled. Can you tell me what fabric this is?

"This designer piece is a one of a kind, imported from Paris and made of the finest multi-layered microfilament satin and finished with specifically chosen and engineered color gradients."

Synthetics, Spi thought. How disappointing.

She moved away from the window toward a rack of silk blouses, acutely aware of the woman's disapproving glare trying to pierce the back of her head and destroy her peace. Along the right wall Spi paused at a rack of silk blouses, running her fingers over the fabric. Lovely. Light. But something felt... off. She realized what it was: all of these clothes were made for a generic body, not her body. On her world, garments were created for the individual wearer, flowing and fitting as if they'd grown there. She felt a pang of sadness at the idea she'd have to adapt.

The woman hovered. "Is there something specific you're looking for? We do have a sale rack in the back." The last sentence landed like a small barb.

Spi turned. "I'm looking for clothes that feel like they belong to me." Her voice was gentle. "Do you know what I mean?"

"I'm not sure I do."

Heading back to the display window, Spi said, "I'd like to try on that dress" Secretly she was hoping that synthetics in this world were better than the ones her world had stopped making eons ago.

The woman scoffed at her. "We cater to serious buyers here, of a certain economic status."

Ah... Spi understood. This woman thought Spi was too low class to dare to enter her fine establishment.

With utmost grace she turned to face the woman and said sweetly but sternly, "All the same, I'd like to try it on."

The woman's face flickered surprise, then almost resignation. "Very well," she snapped, taking the dress off the mannequin and heading to the dressing room, heels clicking angrily on the tile.

Spi carefully slipped into the dress then walked out to the mirrored platform, turning this way and that way. The dress was stunning. Fluid, elegant, and surprisingly comfortable for a synthetic. It was quite striking and she wanted to love it. But she couldn't. It just didn't move with her. And she felt it, like wearing a costume rather than an extension of herself.

She tried on several other garments, from a tailored suit that made her feel stiff and almost robotic to a few silk blouses that had a delightful feel but hung lifeless on her frame.

The woman was getting visibly irritated with her but as the shop was empty, she had no choice but to continue bringing more pieces for Spi to try on.

As she stood on the mirrored platform wearing yet another disappointing ensemble, Spi had a twinge of doubt. This was the first time since arriving in this world that things didn't seem to be flowing for her. It was a disconcerting feeling.

Spi closed her eyes, stood up tall and took a deep breath. For a millisecond she saw herself in the perfect dress. Slowly she opened her eyes and out of the corner of her eye she saw a glint of green. It must have caught the light at just the right angle because it jumped out at her and seemed to fill the entire room!

Quickly Spi spun around. Casually draped on a mannequin in a corner there it was: deep jade green, simple lines, soft neckline, and a hem that would catch the breeze when she walked. The fabric was silk. Not the stiff, heavy kind, but a weightless charmeuse that seemed to hold light within its threads. She could already feel it: soft, flowing, swirling around her legs as she turned, the way it would catch the afternoon sun and glow like a living thing. She asked to try it on.

When she emerged from the fitting room, the associate's eyes widened slightly and she involuntarily let out her breath. "That dress looks like it was made for you."

"No." Spi smoothed the fabric.

"We were made for each other."

Admiring herself in the mirror for another minute, Spi exclaimed, "I'll take it! Oh and I'll need matching shoes. What do you have that's suitable?"

The woman immediately produced several selections and Spi chose the one that spoke to her.

Moving to the counter, Spi picked up a piece of note paper and wrote on it. "Please have these delivered to this address."

As she read the address the woman's eyes went wide! "Y-you know the Prescotts?" she stammered?

"Yes, I'm staying in their penthouse." Spi said casually.

Dumbfounded, the woman wrote up the sale. As she handed Spi's credit card back to her, she said, almost sheepishly, "I assumed you couldn't afford anything here."

Spi met her gaze. "You assumed based on what I was wearing, which is also a beautiful dress, by the way. It was made for me. Well, for the person I was when I arrived. I was comfortable in it. That's what matters."

The associate looked down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"We all make assumptions based on what we see. But what we see is just a snapshot. Not a story." Spi smiled. "Who are you when you're not behind this counter?"

"I'm... I'm a painter. In my spare time."

"Then you know that how something looks on the surface isn't the whole picture." Spi nodded toward the fitting room. "That green dress looked beautiful on the mannequin. But it's better on me. Because I made it mine. And you, behind that counter, are more than a simple associate. You're a painter. Don't let the counter forget."

The woman's eyes glistened. "Thank you."

Spi walked out into the morning, feeling a bit lighter. The world is changed one moment, and one person at a time, she reminded herself.