|
  |
Janet is dressed in a purple sparkly halter top dress, as she walks into the Hellfire Club, wearing matching kitten heels and scanning the room before gesturing for one of the servants, "I'll have a mai-tai please," she makes her order, her body already starting to move a little witht he jazzy music currently played.
*
As a general rule, Sean didn't dance. Of course he could; a childhood spent in preparatory academy and a penchant for seeking poor and unfortunate souls nobody would miss to toy with balancing out his creative exploits between classical and modern competence. This evening, he sought to entertain neither though, instead enjoying a martini, dry of course, while poised at the edge of the bar where the faint lighting only weakly played across his blond-hair strewn brow. The past few weeks had become near intolerable, the absence of Amora in his apartment slowly decaying the magic she had laid there, opulence of a god draining into mortal excess in painfully stark contrast. Thus he sought the amusement of a night without consequence, a Hellfire club, and fine liquor. The beauty striding across the floor didn't injure his indulgences either, and his blue eyes traced her graceful motions with keen consideration that stemmed from boredom, but was no less legitimate.
*
As the Van Dyne heiress, whose name has been thrown out here and there in tabloids, the socialite is recognized by some and when she gets her glass of mai-tai, Janet does raise it to acknowledge the few looking her way. Some return the gesture, others look away. She takes a sip, before moving in small mini-twist steps towards the bar, already soaking in the atmosphere. The Hellfire Club always provided such class entertainment and lounging, it felt like a rejuvinating burst of air each time she set foot in it.
*
There were rules in the Hellfire club, and given the establishment's age and distinction, even Sean did not press against the grey line touted. Thus, he had to do things the old fashioned way. Of course, he had seen her in the tabloids, though famous did not necessarily intrigue as much as what the headlines decried. It was too easy to find an impressionable young woman looking to suckle upon the teat of his father's wealth; when a woman possessed her own power he was often reluctant to admit the basal attraction therein.
Thus he waited for her to settle, waited for her hip to pop, and only then did his step traverse the distance between them to settle elbows along the countertop as he considered her attire in one lingering sweep of his eyes before finally introducing himself with a simple,
"Is that an Emilio Pucci, m'dear? I didn't think the Prince of Print had made his foray into sequins."
*
Eventually Janet makes her way to the bar where she sits by her lonesome, setting her glass on the counter. She doesn't remain lonesome for long, however, as Sean soon slides over by her side. Giggling, she turns to look at him with a radiant smile, "oh my, you've an eye for fashion! How did you know?" It's not often she runs across men with such a keen eye or even knowledgeable when it comes to fashion in general and women's fashion in particular. "It's glorious, isn't it? Really gives a sparkling presence, and I love to make a scene," she winks playfully before reaching for a sip of her drink.
*
"They're theoretically fading in popularity, though some would consider them timeless. Apparently the first were found in King Tuts tomb so many years ago. Made out of metal of course. Could you imagine, an entire dress of gold plated scales? Of course it would be heavy but oh, so much more excessive than what fabric can boast."
A hand settled his drink on the counter so he could extend his dominant hand, a palm unworn by work outside of that which pen and paper boasted,
"Sean, by the way. Sean Garrison. As far as fashion, I try to remain as relevant as I can though we have substantially less interesting phases of development then the womenfolk get to enjoy."
*
"I wouldn't dream to design a dress of metal, my gosh!" Janet's eyes open wide at the very suggestion, "it would be heavy and cumbersome, and part of the beauty of fabric is how it moves and follows the lines of the body, dancing in metal dress sounds horrid to me!" Janet shakes her head and laughs, no doubt having visualized the thought.
Reaching with her own hand to shake his, Janet grins at his words, "Sean…something of an Egyptologist then?" She muses, before looking thoughtful, "I'm a fashion designer…but being a woman, I'm more invested in women's garments…I should consider something fresh in men's as well."
*
Sean chuckles the suggestion of his employment before waving it off, "Psychology, actually. Though I did show a passing interest in history, it waned."
After their introductions were complete, he recollected his drink and took a sip, turning to face the dance floor instead of her as if his focus upon her presence was of transitory enchantment. Beauty was not uncommon in the circles they both trod.
"Perhaps, but I do feel our obsession with metallic has just risen higher. Earrings, bracelets, rings, bangles and necklaces. They get thicker and more tacky every year. Fabric simply revealed all that it used to hide, and gold attempts to hide the vulnerabilities now presented. Fashion is an interesting reflection of society, in that way."
*
"Oh? Psychology…I heard about that, the study of what's wrong with one's mind is it?" Janet makes light of it, but then again, so often her profession of fashion is made light of that she really doesn't feel any sense of guilt.
"That's an interesting take on fashion. I simply like to design things that look good, I don't really try to find a specific meaning…you know, art for the sake of art, all the noise doesn't really matter." Janet has a very down to Earth view of her own work, unlike some artists who would talk in circles. She thinks a moment, and then quips, "I was always fond of tiaras, they make you feel like a princess." She nudges playfully at Sean, "maybe not you, but trust me, it's a glorious feeling."
*
Sean glances down where she had lightly nudged him, his dinner jacket shifting as he turned back to consider her with a laugh, "Well it's all subliminal, of course. You would never /think/ of a meaning, and if you pretended at one, it wouldn't resonate with the audience as anticipated. Your job is to design what is 'fashionable' and it's the rest of the world's purpose to concern itself with 'why' something is in fashion. You see, it's that why which tends to catch my interest. Subtle though it is, there is no wrong or right within the minds of most - simply a misunderstood functionality."
Finding himself weaving circles with his words, he set his canine teeth around waving tongue to steady the emotion before smiling openly, perfect white grin near wolfish in the low lights of the social club.
"What's the equivalent for a King? Enlighten me, surely there's something?"
*
"That so…?" Janet muses, leaning with her elbow on the counter as she turns to fully look at Sean, "why are hemlines getting shorter then? Did you find that reason?"
Pausing for a sip of her drink, rolling the liquid in her mouth, Janet shakes her head, "a crown would be the obvious answer, but if you were to wear a crown anywhere it would look pompous and ridiculous. A crown lacks the grace of a tiara. I would say there's no accessory for that…for a man to feel kingly, he must have power. But just as you said of fashion, what is power? I bet it's different things to different people."
*
Sean quietly turns his dinner jacket over, showing the cufflinks against that bound the hem together as he murmured, "A bracelet is to a watch as a tiara is to a pair of cufflinks. There are correlations, in fashion, I assure you. The masculinity demands a sense of subtlety so few possess."
His own were plain enough, though of course the weight of the metal demanded respect instead of the embellishments therein. Old money, his appearance and poise promised; further evidenced by his lack of need to do more than chatter with this woman as if she were an equal.
"Hemlines get shorter because they sell more when they do. Women's fashion is just another male accessory, as sad as that may seem. Another piece of art to be added to the wall of the successful sorts, or when not currently patronized by one, to entice their attention. Of course, you may not see it that way, but I was simply attempting to answer your question."
*
"There's merit in fancy cufflinks," Janet agrees with Sean's statement, her gaze drawn to his cufflnks as he puts them on display, "and there's great importance in subtlety, I dare so to both genders of a specie."
It is Sean's answer about the fleeting hemlines that has Janet finally snorting with disagreement, as she reaches for her drink to freshen up with another sweet sampling. "I did ask, and you did answer, but I think your answer diminishes women's own choices…not everyone are comfortable with the receding hemlines. Just a few weeks ago I met a woman in Times Square, and she thought showing calves was far too bold. I dare say being an accessory to men was not on her mind."
*