The Gift of Fashion

by Taki Drake

  As the man continued to munch on the cookies, Genevieve sketched and listened to Madrik’s cross-examination of the old man with only partial attention. She trusted Doucet to capture anything that was important, and her companion’s flash of agreement let her abandon everything except her design thoughts.

  Madrik was asking the man questions, the first a general query that sounded a bit like “Where are you headed?”

  “Well now,” the old man mumbled through the last bite of cookie. Taking his time, he swallowed and wiped crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. Looking over at the bartender, he asked, “You wouldn't happen to have a tall glass of milk would you, Brechal?”

  At the bartender’s nod of agreement, the old man leaned back with a sigh of contentment and patted his stomach. Dimly, Genevieve noticed how much more round that part of his body was, almost as if every cookie had added weight onto him immediately.

  Brechal was right there in just a few seconds, holding out a full glass of milk which the old man took with glee. After drinking half a glass, the man turned his attention back to Madrik and Genevieve. “Please excuse me for my scattered and abrupt manner, I have a business meeting coming up, and I'm a bit nervous. I've never done something like this before.”

  When Madrik didn’t come back immediately with another question, Doucet poked Genevieve to keep the conversation going. Putting her pencil down for just a moment, the Clothier asked teasingly, “Have cookies and milk in a bar?”

  The man exploded in a jolly laugh that sounded slightly shaky. “Oh, thank you, dear Clothier. I needed a good laugh to settle my nerves. I meant I'd never attended a business meeting like this before.”

  As he spoke, the old man’s beard bounced, drawing Genevieve’s attention to its straggly state. Unconsciously, the Clothier grabbed her sketchpad and pencil, quickly sketching his beard on a page. Next to it, she drew a much neater trimmed version of it. Doucet emphatically approved, sending a flash of warmth that was like a quick hug.

  Genevieve liked the sound of the old man’s voice. It was warm and jovial, although at odds with his appearance. She wanted to keep him talking because her magic was responding in a dance of power around the tones and words that he uttered. This was something she had not felt before, and she wanted to experience it fully.

  Still abstracted by the drive to create, Genevieve asked him a noncommittal question, just to keep him talking, “What kind of business meeting is it?”

  The man sagged further into his comfortable chair and let out a weary sigh. Clearing his throat, he slowly said, “That’s just the thing that is making me nervous. You see there's this man who wants to draw pictures of me for something called an advertisement. When I delivered some items to him a few weeks ago, he asked me if I would do it. He seems to think it will spread good cheer which is the only reason I agreed.”

  Seeing the old man lose his joy and suddenly become depressed and unsure, hurt Genevieve’s heart. It was like an ache in the center of her chest, a complex mixture of sympathy, empathy, and a desire to rescue. The Clothier was prodded to action by the intensity of her emotions and grabbed her sketchpad and drawing material, sliding off the barstool.

  “Well, I say you came to the right place before your meeting. I'm going to make you a new outfit so he can sketch you in it.” Genevieve held her hand out to him commandingly, saying, “Come with me, please. We are going to go to my shop across the street and see what we can do for you quickly. By the time we are done, you will shine!”

  Chapter 5 – Makeover

  The man, who introduced himself as Nicholas, walked with Genevieve to her studio. The short trip was mostly taken in silence with Genevieve lost in the swirl of her design magic and Nicholas deep in his gloomy thoughts.

  When they walked into the shop, her assistants were involved in a lively game of Scrabble. Tiles magically floated onto the board at a rapid speed almost too fast to see. Only a swift click of the tiles as they settled onto the board attested to the cutthroat speed of the game.

  Curiously, Genevieve looked to see what her guest’s reaction was to the unusual scene. For her, this was a familiar scenario because her sentient assistants were highly competitive. They loved challenging games of competition and Scrabble was their first choice. The Clothier had been amazed at the language mastery that an animated tape measure, pin cushion, scissors, and treadle sewing machine possessed. She also knew better than to play against them.

  Unlike most guests when they first saw her coworkers, Nicholas did not stand there dumbfounded. Instead, he walked over to the cutting table and crouched down on one knee.

  “I see you're playing with the extended dictionary.” He gently nudged Henri, the haughty tape measure, with the tip of his index finger. “Your ‘Qu’ and ‘Z’ will fit just at the end of that branch there,” the man said pointing toward the far corner on the board.

  “Ah, oui, monsieur. Merci!” Henri said as the two tiles in question flew across the table and slammed onto the board in triumph. At the muttered comments from the other game players, the tape measure twisted toward Nicholas and raised one end of the tape, extending a high five to the old man. A wash of warmth flooded Genevieve as Nicholas returned the gesture carefully, saying, “Great! You four look like you would be dangerous to play against.”

  Nicholas was looking at the Scrabble board as he made that comment, so he did not see the reaction of the four current players. Each of them reacted in their own way to the praise with Yoko rustling her flower petal extensions and Isaac slowly revving his motor. Henri tilted the top of his tape to one side and suggested, “Perhaps you would care to join us in a game.”

  Yoko immediately added in, “I would be most pleased to have you join our games.”

  “Thank you all! Perhaps after my winter busy season is over, I will have more time, and then I will definitely come and take you up on that.”

  Genevieve laughed in delight at the interaction. She tilted her head quizzically and looked at Nicholas searchingly. “You're not like most humans,” she stated with a hint of question at the end.

  The old man laughed and responded, “Each of us is unique. And the concept of most humans is flawed because any attempt to group people into predominant clusters is doomed to failure. The most you can do is identify them according to your own definition. That is simplistic enough that you can decide if someone is ‘good’ or ‘evil,’ or even ‘naughty’ or ‘nice.’”

  The Clothier invited Nicholas to sit at a small table to the side of the studio where she frequently consulted with her clients. Once again, she pulled out her sketchpad and new pencils so that she could quickly jot down anything important that came up. Nicholas sat down, but he appeared to be very uncomfortable.

  “What is wrong? I don’t want to force you into something that you don’t want to do. I just think that you would be better off with clothes that suit you better. And if you want to spread cheer, you need to have that persona. Otherwise, people will reject you simply because of the way you look.”

  “I know. My father was always dressed so nicely, and everyone reacted to him in a friendly manner. That’s not what happens when I make a delivery. People sometimes even slam the door in my face!”

  The old man looked so dejected that Genevieve was even more determined to give him a good makeover. Before she could utter anything encouraging, Gingher, her fabric shears, slid onto the small table at which she and Nicholas were sitting.

  Ever so slowly, the shears inched closer to the man’s straggly gray beard. Even in Nicholas’ sadness, the old man was conscious of others. Summoning a smile from somewhere, he asked the shears, “Is the game over? Is there something that I can help you with?”

  Gingher, who typically held back and let others carry on any conversation, asked hesitantly, “May I trim your beard? Please?”

  To Nicholas' credit, the old man did not seem to be offended. Instead, he laughed and said, “I have a hammer or two in my shop that shares your desire, if not y
our initiative.”

  Gingher repeated his question, “May I please trim your beard and hair?”

  “Of course, my good fellow. If you really want to, I would most appreciate it.”

  The fabric shears leaped off the table and spun in a graceful pirouette in the air. As it rotated around, each revolution saw a change in color and shape. Ranging from sturdy tin snips and hedge clippers to delicate embroidery scissors, the last revolution produced something that looked like traditional barber’s shears.

  Slowly settling down onto the surface of the small table, Gingher paused a moment as if to allow the appreciative Clothier and Nicholas to admire him. Genevieve thought that he certainly was worth admiring with the highly polished sheen of high-quality metal and the delicate etching of the blue-black handles.

  The newly transformed shears seem to gather themselves and then jumped into the air floating around Nicholas’s body, trimming his beard into a well-groomed shape. With each snap of the blades, the hairs left behind changed from an indeterminate gray to the white of snow on a brilliant sunny winter day.

  That was not the only change during the cuts. Cutting off the ends appeared to significantly lower the weight of the straggly hairs. Without the mass dragging them down, Nicholas’ beard became a shaped riot of curly white hair.

  “Oh, that feels wonderful,” the old man said.

  Genevieve was extremely impressed. Adding her voice to Nicholas’, she exclaimed, “That is amazing work. Can you do the same trim job on his hair?”

  Gingher did another pirouette in the air and set about trimming the rest of Nicholas’ hair. Once again, the indeterminate gray of his entire head of hair transformed to brilliant and luxuriant white. Well tamed curls gave it a bouncy, jolly look. Genevieve would’ve sworn that Gingher was whistling to himself as he worked, lost in his own creative efforts.

  Finally, the grooming was complete. Satisfied, the shears settled down onto the table. Doucet whisked away all of the cut ends, keeping the floors and all the work surfaces clean. It’s one of the things on which he and the Clothier were entirely in agreement. There was no need for clutter making navigation difficult. Besides which, it was unsightly.

  Genevieve realized she would not have recognized the man who sat in front of her as the same person that she had been frightened of when she first saw him in the bar. Instead of someone looking like a criminal waiting to jump out of an alley, the man in front of her, although still oddly dressed, looked respectable and like someone she really wanted to know.

  His well-trimmed hair and beard, coupled with the color change, made a fantastic difference in his overall appearance. To her surprise, she realized that there was a springing well of excitement filling her stomach and bubbling up into her head that told her that it would be even more exciting when the entire transformation was done.

  Chapter 6 – Social Training

  “Nicholas, you look amazing! The trim has done wonders for your overall appearance, but we are only getting started. This is going to be a complete makeover, one that has been sadly lacking!”

  The old man was examining himself in a mirror that was positioned in one corner of the studio. Genevieve stifled a broad smile as she saw how amazed he was on the changes in his appearance. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off his reflection, going so far as to make small faces at himself to make sure that it was indeed him that he saw in the mirror.

  Oblivious to Genevieve’s comments, Nicholas turned to Gingher and said, “I don’t know how to thank you enough. I didn’t realize what a big difference a haircut and beard trim would make! You’ve done a wonderful job. I almost don’t know that is me.”

  The shears, now back to his normal appearance, clicked his blades slightly and rose up vertically to open the blades in a slight bow. The hint of a pink tinge to the color of the metal told the Clothier that her assistant was slightly embarrassed by the effusive thanks. Slipping back down onto the table surface, Gingher responded, saying, “Please, it was nothing. I was just doing my job. After all, scissors need to snip!”

  Nicholas smiled, but would not be assuaged from feeling grateful. “Nonetheless, what you did was of a great benefit to me. I can go forward to my meeting far more confidently than I could before.”

  Genevieve repeated her earlier statement for emphasis. This time she made sure that Nicholas’s attention was on her and he understood what she was saying, “This will be a complete makeover. The change in your grooming is only one part. The other two things that need to have attention paid to them are your social presentation and your clothing. All three of them go together to create the persona that people react to. If you want your interview to go well, you need to pay attention to all three.”

  “Genevieve, you’re scaring me. I have no idea what social training is, and the idea of going shopping for clothes frightens me.”

  “Whatever would make you think that you were going shopping for clothing? We will take care of all the garments that you need. There will be no shopping involved!”

  A look of mild panic bloomed on Nicholas’ face. It only intensified when Genevieve began to laugh, and her assistants joined in. One moment of amusement, shared and fraught with the feeling of pent-up excitement, and then they were off. It was time for a makeover!

  << <> >>

  Genevieve had a quick consultation with Henri and Yoko on the best way to introduce someone to the concept of social interaction. The others in the studio listened in but didn’t have anything that they chose to bring up. The initial plan was to have him role-play and practice posture, attitude and things he could say.

  Henri said that when he was very young that he had to practice in front of a mirror to find the posture that would make him convincing. The tape measure laughed, saying, “You would not believe the strange shapes that I tried to pull myself into in order to look assertive. It took me hours of practice before I found that you should take a shape that was similar to that of your audience. Otherwise, they won’t listen to you.”

  In a far gentler voice, Yoko said, “I was taught to let the motion of my petals supplement my verbal communication. The combination of posture and movement with spoken words reinforces ideas in people’s minds.”

  Genevieve summed it up, saying, “So what we want him to do is to practice several key phrases while taking body postures that reinforce the impression he wants to make. We need him to practice so he will automatically do those things when he is talking in the business meeting. Is that correct?”

  “Hai!” “Oui, Madame!”

  <<<>>>

  Nicholas was looking exhausted. Genevieve and her crew had been drilling him on being cheerful and presenting an open and approachable posture for over an hour. They had him practicing expressions and body alignment, teaching him about body language.

  The concept was something new to the old man. He had never really thought about the language of the body, and because of their instruction, he now understood many of the reactions he had received from people over the years.

  At one point, Genevieve saw a look of an unutterable sadness washing over the old man’s face. Raising her hand in a stop motion, she looked at him with sympathy and asked, “Remembering something that makes you sad?”

  Nicholas nodded and explained, “Many years ago I tried to do something to help a child. I never knew why he was so frightened of me. What you are teaching me now has let me understand how my good intentions and generosity were rejected from fear. It hurts me to think how many people I frightened over the years.”

  A thoughtful silence settled over the studio. After a moment, Isaac responded, surprising everyone by his sudden emergence from silence. In a low rumble, the ancient treadle machine said carefully, “I learned that many years ago. At that point, I was excited by my sudden ability to communicate, and I would rev up my gears and chatter at people. It overwhelmed them.”

  Nicholas looked at the old machine and spoke to him as if he were another old man, “Long-held regrets are the
worst, are they not?”

  “Yes. Instead of bringing joy to the people that had helped me learn how to communicate, I frightened them. My presentation made them think that I was possessed and that they had brought a demon into existence. I was very lucky that they did not break me down into parts and destroy me.”

  Nicholas laid both hands on the treadle machine’s castle and bowed his head in commiseration. The other occupants of the studio kept a respectful silence. It was interrupted by the sound of steps on the threshold of the shop and incredible aromas that heralded the entry of more cookies.

  “Cookies!” burst from a multitude of throats.

  The enthusiastic greeting startled the woman entering the studio with an outsized tray in her hands. Bustling over to help her with the platter, Nicholas smiled cheerfully and said, “The aroma announces you, my dear. I, for one, am thrilled that you have chosen to bestow on us additional products of your art.”

  In a muttering aside, Henri said to Genevieve, “I think the socialization lessons have worked, Madame! He is automatically falling into not only the words but the body postures. Look at how she’s reacting.”

  The Clothier glanced over and saw that the bearer of the tray was a woman slightly shorter than she was. Coming into the studio, her downcast eyes and trembling hands had telegraphed her shyness and fear. At Nicholas’ greeting, she had looked up and seen his friendly face and well-groomed features. Seeing nothing to fear, she had relaxed and shyly smiled back.

  The difference in the woman’s reaction had been picked up by the old man. A brief look of astonishment had been replaced by an enthusiastic appreciation that only intensified the warmth of his greeting.

  Flourishing under his warm regard, the woman smiled back shyly and said, “Star Child Grace told me that I needed to deliver these. She said that you liked my other cookies and that you would need more to keep up your strength as you practiced for a meeting.”

  Straightening up and looking even more confident, Nicholas said, “Star Child is a very smart woman. My father worked with her for many years and would often tell my mother and me that she always seemed to know what was needed before it happened.”