The Bane of Light

City Never Sleeps

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Yanking out a cream garment that was compactly hidden between two vibrantly-dyed gowns, I pulled a mini-dress out towards Ibet. It was a stunning number- a silk-slip dress, thin and light with a lace trim. Absolutely gorgeous.

"What do you think?" I asked Ibet, holding it up to my body. I usually shied away from pure white, seeing that it made me look even more pasty than usual, but this ones rich shade of ivory was absolutely stunning.

"It's gorgeous, right?" I asked her, holding it against me and giving a short twirl.

"Yes, it is, but you will probably never wear it. And I can't either" She said, gesturing to her loose head scarf and modest outfit. Today she was taking a page out of my book, clad in all monotone shades of cream. She looked very sophisticated, the rich color complementing her golden-brown skin tone.

For our Sunday trip to the city, I myself was dressed in a charmeuse corset vest. It was made of grey silk, and wrapped around my neck. Showing off my lower abdomen, I adorned low rise, wide leg pants. It was all very voguish, my layered black, necklaces and black headband, accentuating the whole sophisticated-chic look. My shiny, white hair tumbled down beneath the headband.

I didn't pay mind to the fact that I regularly had to recast my heating charms to keep myself from loosing my fingers in the freezing, New-York weather. Ibet had the common sense to layer up in warm cashmere, using one of her thicker, fleece scarves to keep her cozy. Her shoulders and entire torso weren't exposed like mine. Oh well. Beauty demanded sacrifice.

"Ring this up for me, Cerise" I called out to the shop keeper. She was an elderly women in her late two-hundreds, maintaining a small fashion boutique deep within Magical New York. Her store was eclectically unconventional, and I particularly enjoyed coming to this one not only because of the wide selection, but because of the reclusive nature of the owner. Cerise didn't bother me, and I didn't bother her.

She had a habit of ignoring customers, most likely from the fact that she was ancient, and that this shop gig was only a hobby from her. She didn't need anyones business, and didn't care when her impudent nature scared off customers. She had the air of an affluent woman.

Cerise's sylphcat spun the clothing away from me, floating it to the pile of underrealm silk already on the counter, in front of Cerise's constant spot behind the register. She was reading a magazine that had to be from the 60's, not like she could tell the difference either way. Her shop was filled by the criteria of aesthetic appeal, picking and buying whatever caught her eye. And, let me tell you, her eye for fashion was quite impressionable. But that did not necessarily mean up to date with modern trends.

She didn't look up on me as the clothing was rung up by her sylphcat. Cerise's hair was pure white and short, styled into finger curls with a shimmery, vibrant head wrap atop it. Time had not dulled her beauty, nor her exuberant style. Often, brooches with outrageously large gemstones- real from what I could tell- were attached to the head wraps, alongside individual costume feathers and diadems. She wore golden spectacles low on the bridge of her nose, and draped herself in luxurious materials. Her stout body was often concealed behind layers of such fabrics. If not admirable for her shop, she definitely was admirable for her flamboyant, fashionable taste.

Gathering up my bag from the front and paying Cerise in gold, Ibet and I made our way out to the cold streets of New York. A gust of wind slammed into us, nearly knocking the dozens of shopping bags off of my arms. I shuddered and Ibet shot me a look.

"You should have bought yourself a matching jacket, besides the lingerie that you and I both know you won't wear out" Ibet noted, wrapping her arms around her at the sudden chill.