07-22-2014, 03:34 PM
Imperial Tailors was located at the end of a columned corridor, a simple maroon door against a black wall, the words "Imperial Tailors and Clothiers, est. 1991" in Gold. It was interesting, to say the least. There were no windows or displays out front, nothing to pull a person in. The man or woman who shopped here knew exactly what kind of a place this was. And that it was expensive, not to to seek its clientele.
He'd only heard about it through one of the aides he was friendly with when he'd asked about upscale clothiers. They'd made an appointment for Privilege Takeo with his personal shopper Bruno Fonseca.
Marcus opened the door and saw a very beautiful woman sitting at a desk. She must have been the receptionist because she rose and came from around the desk to greet him. Her auburn hair was swept off to one side into a knot and held by some sort of stone encrusted clasp. Her make up was subtle, designed to almost be invisible, and yet enhance and call attention to her natural beauty. She wore a sleeveless black dress, solid across the chest, thin gold belt cinched around her narrow waist, a peplum below it to accentuate the her shape, before extending to her knee.
He smiled at her. This was the kind of beauty that he was noticing today, the perfect symmetry of eyes and nose and mouth; the styled anarchy of hair flowing into a complex knot; the contours and sweeping lines of her very feminine body. This was architecture. This was the beauty and elegance of mathematics breathed into life.
"Can I help you sir"
"Yes. I am here to do some shopping. I'd like to avail myself of one of your personal shoppers to help me."
He paused. He didn't need to use the same shopper as the Ninja did. But he wanted to. It would be a point of conversation should they ever meet. He'd enjoyed Takeo's story as a kid and the way he'd risen out of his life to attain the position he had. Of all the members of the Sphere- or really anyone in the Kremlin- he was the one he felt he understood the best. Or at least, shared a connection with. The fires of childhood burned deep. "Would Bruno Fonseca available?"
She checked the schedule and then made a call before informing him that Bruno would be available in a little while. Marcus was invited to take a seat in their comfortable waiting room. The receptionist offered him whatever it pleased him to drink. Normally, he would have just asked for water. Today though...."Some champagne would be fine. Thank you."
It was time to start enjoying himself a bit. It had been years since he'd drank any alcohol. But a little drink might be interesting. It was a fairly casual day. When she returned, he sipped at it, noting the crisp flavor and the way the bubbles tickled his palate. His analytical side didn't noticed any dulling. If anything, he felt more relaxed and yet alert. He began to wander the room.
Here was where all the displays were, though of course not in a desperate and vulgar usage of floor space to maximize profits like some department store. Instead, elegant red gold and black curtains and panels highlighted walls mounted with view screens showing an endless collection of suits and dresses, shirts and shoes, ties, purses, and a host of other accessories. Materials and fabrics- silks, patterned and brocaded, as well as linen, cotton, wool, even blends and mixes, were everywhere available to touch and weigh against the skin. Some of them were soft metals- gold, silver, steel, chrome, even glass and platinum- that bent and flowed with the ease of cloth or shimmered iridescently in the natural light or with its own internal lighting. Some of the material was made of Mirasol displays, using interferometric modulation to display an infinity of images and patterns, both still and shifting. One could wear a suit or dress that subtly changed colors at the touch of a button.
Finally, the receptionist returned- she really was quite lovely- with a man beside her. He assumed this was Bruno.
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jul 22 2014, 06:05 PM.
He'd only heard about it through one of the aides he was friendly with when he'd asked about upscale clothiers. They'd made an appointment for Privilege Takeo with his personal shopper Bruno Fonseca.
Marcus opened the door and saw a very beautiful woman sitting at a desk. She must have been the receptionist because she rose and came from around the desk to greet him. Her auburn hair was swept off to one side into a knot and held by some sort of stone encrusted clasp. Her make up was subtle, designed to almost be invisible, and yet enhance and call attention to her natural beauty. She wore a sleeveless black dress, solid across the chest, thin gold belt cinched around her narrow waist, a peplum below it to accentuate the her shape, before extending to her knee.
He smiled at her. This was the kind of beauty that he was noticing today, the perfect symmetry of eyes and nose and mouth; the styled anarchy of hair flowing into a complex knot; the contours and sweeping lines of her very feminine body. This was architecture. This was the beauty and elegance of mathematics breathed into life.
"Can I help you sir"
"Yes. I am here to do some shopping. I'd like to avail myself of one of your personal shoppers to help me."
He paused. He didn't need to use the same shopper as the Ninja did. But he wanted to. It would be a point of conversation should they ever meet. He'd enjoyed Takeo's story as a kid and the way he'd risen out of his life to attain the position he had. Of all the members of the Sphere- or really anyone in the Kremlin- he was the one he felt he understood the best. Or at least, shared a connection with. The fires of childhood burned deep. "Would Bruno Fonseca available?"
She checked the schedule and then made a call before informing him that Bruno would be available in a little while. Marcus was invited to take a seat in their comfortable waiting room. The receptionist offered him whatever it pleased him to drink. Normally, he would have just asked for water. Today though...."Some champagne would be fine. Thank you."
It was time to start enjoying himself a bit. It had been years since he'd drank any alcohol. But a little drink might be interesting. It was a fairly casual day. When she returned, he sipped at it, noting the crisp flavor and the way the bubbles tickled his palate. His analytical side didn't noticed any dulling. If anything, he felt more relaxed and yet alert. He began to wander the room.
Here was where all the displays were, though of course not in a desperate and vulgar usage of floor space to maximize profits like some department store. Instead, elegant red gold and black curtains and panels highlighted walls mounted with view screens showing an endless collection of suits and dresses, shirts and shoes, ties, purses, and a host of other accessories. Materials and fabrics- silks, patterned and brocaded, as well as linen, cotton, wool, even blends and mixes, were everywhere available to touch and weigh against the skin. Some of them were soft metals- gold, silver, steel, chrome, even glass and platinum- that bent and flowed with the ease of cloth or shimmered iridescently in the natural light or with its own internal lighting. Some of the material was made of Mirasol displays, using interferometric modulation to display an infinity of images and patterns, both still and shifting. One could wear a suit or dress that subtly changed colors at the touch of a button.
Finally, the receptionist returned- she really was quite lovely- with a man beside her. He assumed this was Bruno.
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jul 22 2014, 06:05 PM.