(no subject)

[negative_feedback]

early May 2022

This is awful. Regan has been pulling Greta from rack to rack, trying to get her advice on different dresses — styles, color, lengths — and every one is wrong. It shouldn't be this big of a deal, but this is prom. She's never had a prom before, and she probably won't have one ever again. She wants her dress to be right.

And none of these are.

They've only been here for a half hour, maybe a little more, but Regan is starting to get panicked. What if she doesn't find anything? What if she ends up going to prom in just... some crappy dress out of, like... Objective, or something.

"Greta, I can't wear a dress from Objective to prom!" she insists, nearly dropping the two she has draped over one arm in her vehemence.

Comments

[andhiswife]

"Okay." Greta says, giving Regan a bolstering nod and then walking her over to the changing rooms. She, at least, is tentatively optimistic. Once they get a better sense of how the dress fits (or doesn't), they can figure out a plan of attack — all of which sounds better and more productive than continuing to paw through the racks in mounting despair. But Regan might not be so confident.

She pauses outside the door to one of the changing rooms, and adds, "Just knock on the door when you're ready for me, okay?" The changing rooms are large enough to accommodate two people, and she thinks it might be better for everyone involved if they have any conversation about alterations in said room, where none of the shopkeepers can see them. It may not be against any laws to buy a dress you intend to modify, but it still feels a bit rude to be blatant about it.

[negative_feedback]

Regan nods and ducks into the room to change. She toes off her sneakers and strips down to her underwear, then tugs the dress on before tightening the zip. She looks at herself in the mirror, first, pulling on the bodice and trying to floof up the skirt. Wearing it now, it's easier to see what she wants it to really look like, what her final vision for it is, but she doesn't know if Greta can do it all.

Taking a bracing, hopeful breath, Regan steps closer to the door and knocks on it.

[andhiswife]

Greta slips inside the dressing room, shutting the door behind her. She gives the dress a brief, assessing look. The fit doesn't seem to be that bad, actually, certainly not to the point where it would be a real undertaking to fix it. The bodice is a little loose, and the skirt doesn't have as much volume as she thinks Regan was hoping for, but neither of those issues are insurmountable.

She lifts her gaze to Regan's face, which looks, she thinks, a little less despairing than it had a few minutes ago. "The fit's not bad," she says. "Better than I was expecting, actually. What do you think?"

[negative_feedback]

She nods, trying not to look too nervous when she smiles.

"I wanted tighter, longer sleeves," she admits, "and the bottom isn't full, like I want." She plucks at the skirts and sort of holds them where she wants the fullness to stop. Then she releases to add, "But... that'd just be an underskirt, right? Petticoat?" Is that what it's called? God, she doesn't know dress things as much as she should right now.

[andhiswife]

"Petticoat," Greta confirms, smiling a bit easier. "And we already have plenty of those. They might not be the exact length you want, but that's a quick fix." Most of the ones in her collection are a bit long for the job, but she could double them back on themselves a bit and fix it with a running stitch that would be easy to just cut back out once Prom is over. If it only has to last one night, they can get away with cutting a few corners.

"How much longer were you thinking for the sleeves?" she asks before reaching out to examine them, letting the fabric slide between her fingers. Tightening will be easy enough — she's not worried about any adjustments that involve taking fabric away. Lengthening might be trickier, as you can't add what you don't have. She could probably let out the hem a little, but if Regan's looking for several inches, they might need to get creative.

[negative_feedback]

Regan holds one arm out and tugs the sleeve. It falls just an inch and a half, maybe two, above her elbow.

"I guess... maybe this could work? I wanted it down to my elbows, but." She's trying to compromise, because she knows she only has so much time before prom, and she only has so much leeway with what Greta can feasibly do. She makes a little, playfully distressed face. "This looks okay at this length, right? If they're a little tighter?"