Cassie relayed the slithery-dress debacle in as few words as possible, more for her own benefit than the assistant’s, who smiled politely but clearly couldn’t give a toss.
‘Well, never mind, let’s see what we can do.’
They were shown a range of bridesmaids’ dresses suited to women closer to half her age.
‘Would you like a little peep at our mother-of-the-bride selection, just for options?’
‘We would not, thank you very much, we’ll make this work,’ growled Mam. She could say what she liked to her daughters, but let anyone else dare to cast shade and they’d feel her wrath. In the end, Cassie tried on a silvery lavender-blue strapless gown which, thankfully, looked great on her slim frame.
‘And what about Maxine?’ said Mam doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure I can see her in strapless.’
‘I have an idea,’ said the assistant, who – having realised she stood to earn some commission – had thawed considerably. ‘We call it the rescue section.’ She pulled out a length of the same shade in tulle and created a halterneck effect which rendered the dress slightly less girlish while maintaining the lightness of the design.
‘Iloveit,’ breathed Mam. ‘Come on, let’s get Maxine on the phone.’
Maxine appeared to be in a grocery store but managed to wedge herself into the quietest corner she could find, so Cassie could model the dresses to the incongruous vision of Maxine framed by beer cans. She looked crestfallen but agreed that the dress would be lovely. Cassie felt sorry for her.
‘On the bright side, Maxine, it’s close as dammit to mauve.’
* * *
Following a successful shopping expedition and having deposited the bridesmaids’ dresses safely at Mam’s house, Cassie landed through the door of her apartment and collapsed in the hall.
‘Cass, is that you?’ came a voice from the kitchen.
‘I can’t remember. I’m emotionally drained.’
She pulled herself to her feet and trailed in to find that Ramona had taken over the entire table with a sketch pad and a desktop computer on which she’d created a variety of designs in an astonishingly short length of time.
‘You can’t buy this stuff. Not now. But I’m betting it’s how a truckload of people would dream of dressing if they could. Like, not all the time, obviously.’
Cassie picked up a sketch from the table; it was a top made of what looked like armour, with leather straps, and worn with some sort of skirt and chunky lace-up boots. It looked like something out of one of Gav’s computer games.
‘Wow, these are kind of .?.?. sensational. They’d have a cult following, they really would.’
‘Sure, they’re not cosplay costumes, they’re club clothes. It’s not like I’m planning on opening a shop. These are niche, pricey and highly desirable to a certain clientele.’
‘OK, you really seem to know your market.’
‘Honey, I’ve been secretly dreaming of this for years. What else am I going to think of while spinning upside-down on a pole.’
‘So, how’re you going to get it all made?’
‘I’ve found a manufacturer in China who can source the materials, seeing as they’re not mainstream fabrics.’
‘Sounds like it’s going to need a ton of money.’
‘Grandma’s a feisty old bird. Most of the time she’d freeze your blood on the spot, but when she likes something .?.?. stand back.’
‘And she likes .?.?.?’
‘You betcha, she’s already planning her outfit for the launch. It’s going to include a limited makeup range – very futuristic, male and female – incredible footwear .?.?. I swear to God, you will never have seen anything like it. It’s going to be like Biba was in the 1960s in London. The original.’
‘Ramona, this is so exciting. Are you covering it on TikTok or Instagram?’
‘Are you fucking kidding? And let some other douche get the jump on me? No way.’
‘So, what happens now?’
