The Fashion Shop

A young couple had just entered the shop, each dressed in black suits and white shirts. Both were holding hands and laughing softly together. She was wearing a pale pink dress and he wore a dark blue coat. When he saw the door, he squeezed her hand lightly as if saying, “Be careful, darling, I don’t want you hurt.”

She looked up at him and laughed before whispering back, “I’m a big girl, John. Don’t worry.”

He smiled in return and kissed her forehead, “I know, but you could fall at any moment…”

They stopped talking for several seconds, letting silence linger between them while gazing into each other’s eyes. Eventually, she pulled back slightly and said, “If I do I promise not to cry or yell at you when I do, alright?”

He nodded, “Yes, I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

She laughed and stepped back, “You do that. Now, let’s go look around, shall we?”

The couple walked towards the shelves where the latest fashions were displayed; their fingers brushing against each other’s every step. When they arrived at the window display, however, their conversation ceased. Neither seemed willing to break contact, staring in amazement at the dresses in front of them.

After a few moments, he reached out for her hand once more, squeezing it gently, “Do you like them?”

She turned to smile up at him, “Of course, John! They’re beautiful! But why would anyone wear this stuff? Doesn’t it make people uncomfortable?”

“Not necessarily…” He replied as she began looking through the rack, “It helps a lot of the time.”

“Helpful to whom?”

Before he could reply, someone came around the corner towards them, causing both to jump slightly as they broke apart. When they turned around to face the person, it was clear that they weren’t strangers. The young woman looked a bit surprised at seeing them, as well as very curious. She looked about eighteen years old, with shoulder-length blonde hair, a slender body, and large dark brown eyes. She wore a deep red dress with short sleeves and a high collared collar, along with knee-high black boots. Her arms were covered in a pair of bracelets, and the earrings that hung on her ears matched her necklace.

She smiled at them both and asked, “Can I help you find anything here?”

John shook his head and responded, “No thanks, this is our first trip to London so we wanted to pick something out ourselves. Would you mind showing us the dresses?”

She looked back towards the racks before nodding slowly and leading the way over to one near the middle of the shop. As John and Clara stood there, they saw that all the dresses seemed to be made from fine fabrics, with the majority of the skirts being shorter than the men. However, as they examined the prices, they noticed that a lot of their designs were priced at upwards of twenty pounds, or even a hundred pounds per dress. It was obvious that these stores had become more selective, and the quality of the clothes was not so much improved as it was diminished. Still, none of these dresses looked cheap or bad. In fact, judging from the prices, they seemed quite expensive.

The blonde woman took them over to a nearby dressing table and pointed across towards another rack filled with garments in the same fashion. “These ones,” she explained, “are more affordable, as the cost is generally lower.”

Clara nodded politely, while John asked, “Is that all of them?”

She nodded slowly, her expression turning sad, “That seems to be all that is left. If that’s the case, I fear the store is closing.”

Both John and Clara turned and gave her a confused look, “Why?” asked John.

Looking down sadly, she answered, “Well, I have to admit that there haven’t been many customers lately… I mean, not in the past four months.”

At this, they started thinking. Hadn’t the prices changed since they were last here? And if they hadn’t changed, who would be going around buying these dresses? Were they doing it solely on the advice of the people who purchased them? And who bought them in the first place?

While pondering this question, the blonde spoke up and asked, “Would you like me to help you choose something else?”

Clara shook her head, and answered simply, “Oh, no thank you. We’ve chosen something, we should leave now.”

And so, in silence, they made their way back through the crowds and out of the door.

“What a horrible day!” sighed Clara, shaking her head slightly, as she sat on a bench outside the shop waiting for her companion to finish paying, “So strange. So strange.