It's better than the others Regan had found, at least. The skirt isn't as full as she would like, and the sleeves are a little long, but maybe, if she thinks a little outside the box, she could imagine a sort of petticoat to fluff up the skirt. Her immediate reaction isn't disdain or frustration, at least, and that feels like a win.

"The color is good," she says, a little uncertainly. She frowns and tugs it closer, holding it against herself and looking in one of the mirrors. No, the color isn't just good. It's really good. It's almost perfect, actually. The bodice is nice, too.

Regan closes her eyes like she's praying for a second, then tips the back of the bodice open to look at the size. It's too big. No, no, no. It can't be too big. She hooks the hanger over the back of her neck so she can tug the side seams against her body, trying to see where they'll fall if she were to put it on right now.