1965-04-25 - You Deserve These Shoes!
Summary: Jen and Rosemarie cross paths in Macy's and both leave content with their purchases. Who cares about price tags?!
Related: None
Theme Song: None
jennifer-walters rosemarie 

It's hard to dress for success when there literally isn't a size for the shopper. Jen Walters, AKA She-Hulk, needs to get her clothing economically like anyone else. Sure, there are $500 full-tailored suits she has in her closet for court dates, but she needs casual wear. Dresses, pants, blouses. The clothing department at Macy's nicely fits that bill, and the service agents there seem more than willing to help her out with getting some clothes pulled together.

Jen stands in front of a three-panel mirror on a pedastal, frowning at her green reflection. She's wearing a light tank top and navy slacks, and holds a blouse in each hand as she sees which one has the better color balance.

Matching colors is easy, but finding something that goes well with 'Hulk Green' is an entirely different game.

There's a huge pile of clothes overflowing the rack as a testament to her shopping efforts, and a smaller pile already bagged and ready to be purchased.

"White with the red flowers, or the yellow and white?" she murmurs, mostly to herself as she goes back-and-forth. Mostly.

"…Jen?" The soft voice proceeds the reflection of a familiar brunette in one of the triple-panes. She wears a blouse herself, some pastel shade of pink, along with brown slacks. The socks worn beneath the shined Mary-Janes are a near-perfect match to the shirt itself, only one wash lighter to make them almost pearlescent. "Hi, I d-didn't expect t-to see you here!"

Rosemarie, out on the town? And in Macy's, nonetheless? Yes! She eyes the two pieces of clothing held by the green giantess and taps her bottom lip briefly. "The…yellow and w-white, I think. The red and w-white m-might m-make people think of C-Christmas," and she smiles tentatively, an apology offered in case of overt familiarity in the comment.

Jen turns to look at Rosemarie, and a beaming, sincere smile crosses her features— teeth made all the whiter from contrast with her emerald skin. "Rosemarie! This is an unexpected pleasure!" she says, looking quite pleased. "What brings you to Midtown? Out doing a little shopping therapy?"

She tugs on the blouse Rosemarie had suggested, hastily donning it and getting it settled properly on her frame. The blouse is sleeveless and flowing, very lightweight. No one's going to consider it ladylike apparel, but it's just avante garde enough that no one is going to complain about it, either. She tucks it into the high waistband of her trousers, turning and seeing how it drapes and fits in her reflection.

"You're right, that /does/ look good," she agrees.

"S-Sure, shopping therapy," Rosemarie replies lightly, laughing despite herself. It is an entirely novel concept to her, truthfully. "I w-wanted to update my w-w-wardrobe and thought th-this w-would be a g-good place to start." She eyes the multiple Shulkies in the mirror and nods, her smile more fully on display now. "It is f-flattering on you." Cue the usual light blush beneath the smattering of freckles, but it's nothing out of control. Jen is a known in her world.

"I'm n-not sure w-what to look for though," she admits after another handful of seconds. Carefully-manicured fingernails tuck loose hair behind her ear, the few strands having strayed from the braid down her back. "I have…money to spend…f-for once." Another small laugh.

"That's right, you got that big payout from that mysterious book sale," Jen says, nodding. She glances around, then steps closer to Rosemarie, looking conspiratorial. She beckons. "Is 'book' codeword for 'drugs'?" she whispers, sotto voce. "It's okay if it is, I'm just curious."

She laughs before Rose can respond. "I'm kidding honey, it's okay. I'm glad you've got some money to burn. Sounds like you need a whole new wardrobe though, huh?" she inquires. "What're you looking for? Business? Casual? Evening? Formal?"

Rosemarie blanches and begins stuttering consonants until Jen amends her line of questioning. The unfinished words break into a titter in passing, the librarian briefly putting her hand over her eyes.

Once she emerges, still flushed, she shakes her head and replies, "I have enough b-business and c-casual to g-g-get along fine. I g-guess I w-was thinking evening and f-formal? N-Not that I h-have m-many reasons t-to g-g-go out, b-but it w-would be nice to have something, you know?" She looks up at Jen, another tentative smile on her face.

Jen's already plotting, eyes narrowed as she looks down at Rosemarie. A fingertip taps against the darker moss of her green lips while she considers. "If you're looking for something to wear to a … oh, a wedding, that's wedding formal. Knee-length skirt, pastels, covered shoulders and a modest neckline— oh, and /nothing/ white. Formalwear is more for evenings and cocktail hours, you can get flirty and fun there, but it's meant to be more modest in tone. Something stylish but not too flip."

"Then there's black and white tie affairs, but that's, y'know… being in a wedding party, or going to a formal ball or diplomatic event. You need a gown for that," she concedes. "Gloves, shawl, shoes, it all has to match. But when it does—" she trails off, significantly. "Every girl should own at least /one/ ballroom gown she didn't get for Prom."

The librarian nods as she listens, biting at the scarred corner of her lip for a passing second.

"Y-Yes, a ballroom g-gown would be b-beautiful, I think. M-Maybe in a p-pale blue?" She turns in place and scans the expanse of clothing available to the shoppers here, hoping to find the island of formal-wear amongst the silvery trees of racks. "Unless y-you think a d-different c-c-color?" she asks, glancing back to Jen.

Jen's giving Rose a look reserved for sharks circling prey and public defenders about to get a case tossed out. "Hmm? Oh! No, as pale as you are, I think a light blue is going to bring out the wrong colors. Macy's doesn't have the /best/ selection for dresses, but— I'm thinking… maybe a lilac for the summer, and a royal navy for the winter. You've got the great facial features and good arms, so let's say… hmm. No neckline, but sleeveless?" She's already digging for outfits of the same color, holding them up against Rose's arm. "Yes, for evenings and winter. Summertime, a three-quarter strapless dress. You can pair it with some gloves and you wouldn't look out of place at the Astor's."

Rosemarie observes each piece of clothing held up to her person, noting the fine differences in color. Lilac — that, she can agree with. Royal navy — yes, during the winter, absolutely.

"D-Do you think w-we can f-f-find one without a back? The…the, um…" She leans in close to Jen and whispers, "The w-wings. They r-r-rip the d-dress if it has a b-back and I g-get stressed enough." She shrugs as if in apology once again. Darn you, Otherness, sometimes she can't have nice things.

"Hmm? The— " Jen blinks. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot about that," she says, looking instantly remorseful. "How gauche. Yes, of course. You'll need to get some custom work done on the dresses, but the backless look is super in vogue right now," she informs Rose. "And halter tops— around the neck? You've got the shoulders for it. Some girls try but they just end up looking like fishes in gowns," she remarks, wryly. "But I can't make a-frame dresses work either, I end up looking like a parade float."

"Oh— shoes, too, you'll need shoes," she says, absently. She waves over an attendant. "Want to start with those and see if the sticker shock doesn't make you faint?"

"Oh — absolutely," Rosemarie replies after a surprised second. She hadn't considered asking for help from the staff in the least. It's…a pleasant revelation, if you will. "I don't think I'll f-faint, b-b-but y-you'll wake me up if I d-do?" She giggles even as she makes her way over to a nearby seat and settles down upon it rather primly. "W-What are w-we talking about, f-for price? I b-bet you c-can't shock me."

Someone's probably in for one, honestly. The shoes she's wearing right now, the Mary Janes? They're the costliest pair she owns and she certainly didn't drop three figures for them, not on her previous librarian's salary.

"It's probably not as bad as the last spree I went on," Jen reassures Rosemarie. "I had to get a ballgown custom made. Special silk, reinforced stitching, and my heels all need spring steel instead of cork or wood," she says, wryly. "I weigh even more than I look, and the last time I broke a heel I almost killed a state senator when I tripped."

The clerks and attendants descend quickly, and even the manager shows up. The fitting and sizing happens fast and furious, and several gowns are brought out for Rosemarie to evaluate and critique.

"Okay, try …. this one on, this would be your black tie gown," Jen tells Rosemarie, offering her the gown. "It's a little daring with the backless cut, but the neckline's modest enough that no one's going to give you too much trouble over it."

Despite herself, Rosemarie gives the green giantess a more thorough once-over. "Oh m-my g-goodness," she says by way of reply to the near-squishing of senator.

She's guided to her feet by one of the assistants and flexible measuring tapes wrap will-nilly in passing. By the time the gowns are brought out, she's definitely at a solid medium blush, flustered and pleased in a way to be the center of scrutiny. The gown, however? The one offered to her by Jen? "Oh," the librarian breathes as she takes it so very carefully. "Oh my." Her cinnamon brown eyes flick up and linger on Jen's face. "Oh, really?" Yes, really. With some ushering by a clerk, she disappears into one of the stalls. When she emerges again, it's in a sleek sheath dress in a warmer lilac. Layers of skirt froth about her legs as she moves and the collar about her neck showcases a peek of decolletage by key-hole. Backless, it drops to her lowest rib. She minces out and onto the platform, almost not brave enough to look. But when she does?

"…oh my." Maybe it's worth the expression of shock, all the cajoling needed for the shy librarian.

Jen sits back, her expression somewhere between pleasure at Rosemarie's obvious delight and smug satisfaction at her satorial expertise. "I am good. I am /really/ good," Jen marvels, looking at Rosemarie's figure in the gown. "You still need some good shoes, and a clutch— and a little shrug, too, that's nice for events like the opera if you're going outdoors. Oh, and some gloves to match," she calls after the departing attendant. "You still need a cocktail dress— I'm thinking something knee-length, black, maybe a halter," she considers. "But this is for… weddings, state dinners. Anything that's specifially 'white or black' tie. It'll say so on the invitation. If you go with a fellah, he'll be wearing a coat and tails with a vest, unless he's just a total stiff and thinks he can show up in a /suit/," Jen says, rolling her eyes a little.

It takes Rosemarie some time to look away from her reflection in the mirrors, but when she does, her brown eyes are a-sparkling. A series of nods to the suggestions at hand — she watches the attendants depart to fetch up shoes and clutch and shrug and gloves — and then puts her hands before her mouth to supress a titter.

"This is…really b-b-b-beautiful, Jen, thank y-you for finding it! B-But oh, a b-black tie d-d-dinner? I can't…I can't imagine g-going to one of those. Still," and she turns so the fall of skirts shifts like light-play on petals. "I'll g-get it."

"Trust me, it's better to do it /now/ than scrambling at the last minute," Jen tells Rosemarie, wryly. "That was the night I fell on the Senator. Rushed out, got a tailor in Chinatown to whip me up something in five minutes, and I was literally getting my shoes on in the cab on my way to the ball. Big reception for distinguished UCLA graduates," she explains. "And the formal ball afterwards. Besides, dress-up is kinda fun, isn't it?" she inquiers, brow hiking conspiratorially.

"It is," and there's another peal of laughter, accompanied by clutched hands before her chest. "I n-never g-g-get to g-go shopping like this," and she admires her reflection winsomely. Careful — might create a monster here.

The other accoutrements arrive and then there's Rosemarie standing there in matching heels that add another two inches of height and clutch dyed to the hue of the silky fabric of her dress. The shrug about her shoulders is barely a shade darker, but works to accent the natural coloration of shadow-play. "I feel like a movie star." She glances over at Jen again. "You're wonderful. Thank you."

Jen grins back at Rosemarie, sitting on a low chair. It's too short for her— legs crossed and turned to the side is the only way she can get comfortable. "This is nothing. You start doing serious work in the public eye, you budget for your appearance. The clothes are just one part of it. Get your hair done regularly, find a manicurist you like, make sure you get your colors done for makeup— even find someone for some posture lessons."

She gets to her feet and walks towards Rosemarie, gently displacing her from the small dais, and stands facing her in neutral posture. "See? I've even got some curves, and it's boring. But you stand like /this/," she says, turning a hip out and dropping a shoulder. "You look confident. Turn and look over your shoulder," she demonstrates, and flashes a sultry wink and a flashy grin at her reflection. "You can be wearing ratty dungarees and a potato sack, and people will still remember you well."

The librarian's rosebud lips drop open at the first demonstration of proper charming posture; the second showcasing is enough to make her flush to her ears and nods.

"Isn't that c-c-called…contra…pposto?" she hazards, uncertain as to if she's got the correct word. She's heard it before, read it before; after all, they have someone savvy with the section of the library devoted to the arts. Setting the clutch aside on the raised circle, she then tries it out. Hip out, shoulder dropped, and even her reflection surprises her. Oh my indeed. She looks like…she belongs with the upper crust after all. She dissolves into more giggling when she tries the wink and places a light hand on Jen's arm. "I think y-y-you're b-better at it than I am."

"I don't know what they call it, but it works. Nothing better for flustering some prosecuing attorney than giving him a flirty wink across the aisle," Jen says, looking a bit too pleased at how well received her advice is.

"Also works for getting into clubs and the front of the hot dog stand line." She beams back at Rose and squeezes the other woman's hand in return where it rests on her green skin. "Oh honey, trust me, it takes time and practice," Jen tells Rosemarie. "But you've got the look, I mean— total Audrey Hepburn. You're even built like her. Bet you could get a deal in Hollywood tomorrow if you walked into some producer's office and pitched yourself as a starring role in something. Maybe a Broadway production, even. How's your singing voice?"

"My singing v-voice?" Rosemarie gives the hand resting atop hers a reciprocal squeeze before shaking her head rather ruefully. "I think it's n-normal at best. I'm not meant for B-Broadway, no. I w-w-would b-b-be too shy anyways. I like my b-books." She shrugs as she looks up at Jen, still somehow entirely approachable despite the expensive fabric wrapped fetchingly about her tall frame. "Still…you're very k-kind. No one's ever said I l-looked like a movie star. I'll have t-t-to remember this w-when I'm feeling down."

Jen watches the play of hesitancy and confusion crossing Rosemarie's face. She hems, indecsive, and shifts, glancing at Rosemarie with wary speculation.

"So… trade secret. Not a lot of people are born with natural speaking ability," she tells Rosemarie. "It's hard. Takes some work. But it /is/ something that you can learn to do. Don't let the guys tell you otherwise, women can carry a room with their voice. I … know someone. A local friend who specializes in public speaking. I know it's not totally useful in terms of the library, but if you ever want a job outside the Dewey Decimal system, a strong voice could /literally/ get you on the silver screen."

"Oh?" Paint her intrigued as her expression lightens a touch. "Who d-d-do y-you know? It'd b-be nice to w-work on this…stutter." Rosmemarie lets out a jaded sigh and slouches slightly in her fine lilac dress, momentarily forgetting of where she is and who she's with. "I'm n-not sure if I'm stuck w-with it or not. It'd b-be nice to have it m-more under c-control regardless of where I'm at."

She glances over as one of the attendants offers another pair of shoes and takes them with a little smile. "Thank y-you." The price tag is observed. "…eeep," comes the quiet peep of shock.

"Friend of mine who got into CUNY as a psychiatrst. She's specializing in speech therapy. Seems like she'd be perfect for helping you really get into your own voice."

Jen steadies Rosemarie's shoulders when the slender woman falters. "Don't faint! Be strong! Lean into it!" She squeezes gently, voice reassuring. "Look at these shoes, Rose. They're perfect. They go with your dress. You need these shoes. You *deserve* these shoes!" she urges the other woman.

"Say it. Say it!"

After a moment of wordless movements of her lips, Rosemarie finally manages,

"I deserve these shoes…?" Never mind that it's a question — success! She does, in fact, deserve a little spoiling now and then. After being reassured that she does also need the shrug and clutch as well as both pairs of matching shoes, she changes back into her blouse and slacks. Emerging from the dressing room, the librarian looks at her reflection and laughs to herself. "Look at m-me, Cinderella home f-from the b-b-ball. I g-guess you'd be m-my fairy godmother?" She gives Jen a big and true grin in passing, even as the attendants work to get her attention. Bagged, of course? Yes. Paying in cash? Yes — ooh, we fancy now. Would the lady like a cab called? Please. And, accompanied by her dear friend, Rosemarie can count her trip to Macy's a smashing success.

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