4.2 KiB
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Galadin sat on the uncomfortable seat of the tailor's front room and stared into the display area for the front windows. Four maniquins with formal black suits filled the area but his interest remained fixed on the one female manique used to contrast the somber suits. The fabric of her dress rustled with the wind breezing through the open door and he loved how the sleeves moved like ocean waves.
He wondered what it would feel like if he wore it. A faint smile crossed his lips as he tried to imagine the layers of light material against his skin. Would it be heavy or light? Would it have the same oppressive restrictions that the black suit that the tailor and his mother preferred.
"Galadin!"
He jumped at his mother's voice. Turning around, he clasped his hands in his lap. "Yes, mother."
"Stop staring like an imbecile and come over here." She gestured curtly to a platform next to her.
The tailor stood next to her, wearing a suit like the ones in the display area but without the jacket. Instead, a pair of cloth measuring tapes draped around his neck like a second tie.
"Sorry," he said.
"Don't say sorry. Men do not say sorry."
"Sorry."
She glared but didn't add anything.
Galadin got up on the platform and stood straight.
"Arms out," the tailor said in a bored tone. He followed with other directions as he measured Galadin from wrist to ankle, inseam and even around the neck. His mvoements were rough, the fingernails digging into Galadin's sensitive ribs as he worked his way down a notebook filled with measurements.
"What will the young Kasin desire?"
"Black," his mother said.
"Of course, there is only one color for a true gentleman. Are you interested in a single-breasted jacket? They are quite popular."
His mother pulled a face. "The Kasins are a proper family with respect for the traditional ways." She straightened her back. "We are not people who follow the fashions of the lazy. My son will not be found dead in those... things."
The tailor didn't even pause. He took more directions from Galadin's mother with grace with Galadin standing patiently with his arms outstretched.
Galadin listened to his mother with only half an ear. His opinions didn't matter but they rarely did. His mother had decided years ago that he needed a wife as soon as he turned eighteen. He knew it was coming but he couldn't find even a small measure of joy at the process of being wrapped in fabric and endless instructions on how "to be a man" for the presentation balls that started every spring.
To distract himself, he gazed around the room but found nothing but somber, strict outfits. The only color, the only bright point, was the green dress in the display area. He smiled to himself and focused on it instead.
Galadin knew that young women had it worse. A presentation was their one and only chance of finding a husband. They were primped, feathered, and trained for years only to be stood in front of eligible besires in hopes of finding a husband.
A group of women crossed in front of the store. It was a cluster of mothers and aunts around a pair of young women wearing cream outfits. They were all laughing as they carried bags from clothing stores, boxes of shoes and hats, and even the remains of a lunch.
They looked happy.
He smiled to himself and tried to imagine himself in the bedame's place. Wearing the cream dress of a debutante seemed far more preferable than his current positoin.
"Are you looking at that dress again?" hissed his mother.
Galadin tore his eyes away guilty and pointedly stared at one of the suits. It was nice, but he couldn't imagine himself wearing it. Whenever he thought about the somber outfits that his mother wanted him to wear, it was as if he was looking at someone in the suit, not him looking out.
"Answer me."
"No, mother."
She glared at him. "Get down, we're done."
Turning to the tailor, she held out her hand.
He kissed it. "Always a pleasure, Maran da Kasin de Kamer."
Maran guided her son out of the store and down the street in a brisk task. "You are always looking at dresses, ever since you were a kid. You need to stop that, you are a young gentleman now."
Galadin followed and said nothing.
"Come on, you are late for your dance lessons."