When Love’s In Fashion

The term ‘formal event’ was both an understatement and a misnomer.

“Wear all of your money” would have been a better direction. The people appeared to be wearing everything bright, shiny, and patterned that had ever graced the cover of a magazine or walked the runway-everything except a plain suit.

She felt like people were staring.

Which usually didn’t bother her, but she could see what they were thinking.

She looked . . . improper.

Out of place.

Incongruous.

Inadequate.

Unrefined.

Poor, even.

Elmira was no stranger to the arts, but she tended towards the refined, the unobtrusive. Especially since her voluptuousness was enough of a stand out as it was. Flamboyant too often coincided with obnoxious, and a desire to stand out with an inflated ego. However, it had ironically not occurred to her that at a fashion week party, big egos are implied, and a plain outfit would stand out more than a monkey in a dress, as evidenced by the Simian who was stealing sips from atop the shoulder of a toned gentlemen with a glass of champagne across the room.

She smiled at the people staring and took a large sip of wine.

 “Elmira, dear.”

She turned, relieved to finally encounter an acquaintance. They had attended the same campus but Florica had graduated earlier.

“Florica. Ah, so good to . . . see you.”

She thought she did a good job of hiding the distress.

She was wearing a tree.

The-robe? Dress? Structure?-had a long transparent train with brown lengths of fabric trailing down from the waist, giving the impression of roots. The sleeves were brown with droopy green leaves dangling from the sides and tufts of silk cherry blossoms near the hands. The bust was made of leaves and had stiff brown fabric-”branches”-jutting out at random angles, housing more leaves and flowers. Her hat was an enormous cherry blossom.

It was not even the most awful outfit she had seen so far, and this made her sad.

“Do you like it? The sculptor, this wonderful Italian man that I know, offered to let me borrow it for the night.”

“Was his goal to make you look like a plant?”

She beamed.

“Oh, yes!”

“Well then, Florica, he achieved his objective completely.”

She laughed and touched her arm playfully.

“Oh, Elmira. I know this is not your usual scene, but it’s nice to see you anyway. I know how absolutely dreadful it is to go to an event like this alone.”

Elmira opened her mouth to say she wasn’t alone but then closed it again. She hadn’t seen Sven in a minute anyway so technically…

“Yes, I can definitely imagine so. You know the designer?”

“Yes, have you met her? I haven’t talked to her yet, let me introduce you.” As she spoke, Florica turned and looked around the room.

“Thank you, but I am sure she is very busy,” Elmira said quickly. “I would not want to intrude.”

“This is her party. And she designed all this.” She waved vaguely around the room, softly as not to upset the leaves. “Don’t you want to meet her?”

Of course Elmira wanted to meet her. But of all people, Elmira knew the value of first impressions and of keeping up appearances. The host’s first impression of Elmira would be “that woman who doesn’t know how to dress.” Being under-dressed was borderline impolite, something that Elmira was used to seeing in others but unable to apply to herself.

Florica, with arms carefully held away from her torso in order to spare the branches, lead her past a life-size bronze elephant, through a maze of carnival freaks-fashion patrons, she corrected herself-to a table near the back of the room. One of the women seated at the table went to greet them.

She was wearing a coat that had probably been an entire animal at some point in its sad life, and bright orange pants.

“Florica Adams, my friend!” she said cheerfully, placing her hand on her back.

“Always a welcome face at my little shows.”

“And as always, you’ve outdone yourself. This is beautiful,” Florica said. Adrienne dipped her head in thanks.

“Ah, but how could you!” she said, gesturing. “My darling, you are dressed so beautifully. How could models of mine possibly compare? You will put me out of a job, yes?”

“Oh, Adrienne,” she laughed. “You’re always so charming. Allow me to introduce an old friend, Elmira Olivette.” They both turned to look at Elmira. Adrienne’s eyes dipped down, and if Elmira had been anyone else she would have become conscious of her posture. She knew when she was being judged. She silently drank her wine. It tasted thicker than normal.

“Elmira, Adrienne Domitille.”

Elmira smiled and held out her hand.

“Ms. Domitille-“

“Please, Adrienne,” she said, with a strong but brief handshake.

“Adrienne, a pleasure.”

This woman was one impolite statement away from evisceration on her blog. Ain’t nobody had the time.

“You must excuse me, girls. I have to greet the other guests. I’ll see you two later.” Florica hustled off into the crowd.

“Adrienne,” said Elmira, once Florica had left. “I apologize for being under-dressed. I think I stand out among all of your well-dressed colleagues.”

“Ah, nonsense! A suit such as this never goes out of style. Wide lapels, wide tie knot-very powerful. It says, ‘I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid to show aggression, to show passion.’ All women can wear a suit, but only you have.” Elmira sensed no condescension in her voice. In fact-

Oh god.

“I appreciate the validation. Events of this type are not my forte, but they are certainly yours.”

“Oh, have you no interest in fashion? Florica dragged you here, I imagine.”

 “Ah, no I actually ran into Florica here. And I am very interested in art. The world is a very beautiful place, and I am interested in the different ways of interpreting it. In fact, I’m on assignment blogging fashion week so if you want to give me a quote for my article on your show that would be lovely.”

“That is interesting, because I think, I mean, if you were willing, you could pull off high fashion very well.” She took Elmira’s empty wine glass from her hand, ignoring her statement about a quote, and replaced it with one from the table behind her.
Sven, where was Sven? She scanned the crowd briefly over Adrienne’s shoulder.

“Thank you. And it was a pleasure meeting you. I will let you get back to your business.”

Adrienne’s eyes lingered.

“Elmira, would you do me a small favor?”

No. Leave.

“Ah, it depends.”

“I’ve got to get backstage to prepare, but if you would join me, I’ve got a fantastic coat with your name on it. It would be a great help, honestly.”

Elmira stared.

She was proud of her stare. It was neutral but not weak. It allowed her a mask of passivity while she considered her options.

She could leave. She wanted to leave. She had wanted to leave the minute she walked in the door. There were a few problems with this idea. Firstly, she was on assignment. She was here to get some interviews. She couldn’t pussy out of that because of whatever passive aggressive sh*t the designer was trying. She was sadly regretting making the effort to even watch the show this afternoon instead of sleeping. Secondly, it would be rude to Adrienne. And last, but probably most importantly, she was a fighter. Leaving now would mean that the fashion world had won, that they had successfully scared Elmira Olivette into running away. Elmira did not run away, that wasn’t who she was, and she wasn’t going to be that now.

She could stay but turn Adrienne down. This, also, was an attractive option, except for the fact that all of the nearby tables had seen and heard Adrienne ask her backstage, and she had no real or fake excuse not to. Besides, it would give her an up close look at the clothes.
The crowd watched her expectantly from their seats.

This was going to be terrible.

“Of course. Anything to help.”