ArchivedLogs:Suiting

Suiting
Dramatis Personae Emma, Isak	2014-04-03 '
Location <NYC> Blomgren's on Fifth Avenue - Midtown East
Blomgren's private showroom can't be accessed by just anyone. You have to make an appointment, and you have to be in a certain income bracket to get the personalized service and attention they provide. The space circular and nearly everything is a pearly off-white, the kind found on Apple products. The carpet is a deep, lush red. The lighting is absolutely controlled, and can be raised or lowered to show clients the effect of the suit material in different lighting. There is a raised platform in the middle of the floor, facing a set of mirrors. None of the product is visible until the pearly panels are tugged back to reveal a wardrobe selected for each client. Everything about it says class, personal attention, and big bucks. Emma is punctual to her appointment, wandering into the waiting room with her attention half on the display of her phone, glancing up as she looks for the receptionist or assistant. She undoes the belt on her off white rain coat, shaking off a little of the moisture before getting in too far. Beneath is a white Donna Karan suit, the jacket is fitted with a wide neck line, exposing hints of her shoulders as well as a glimpse of her cleavage; her skirt, also pristine white, tapers tightly around her thighs. Her clear umbrella is slipped into a carry bag so it doesn't drip across their soft red floor. She smiles pleasantly and looks around, her phone slipped with graceful fingers back into her purse. An assistant comes out quite promptly. She is in her early twenties, with blemish-free ebony skin and a chin-length bob. She's wearing a pale blue suit (Blomgren, of course) that is tailored perfectly and has a peplum waist. "Miss Frost, let me take your coat for you. Can I get you anything? Mister Blomgren will be with you shortly." "Sparkling water with a lime if you have it," Emma responds, her smile growing as she lays eyes on the young woman, nodding appreciatively as she slips off her coat and hands it and her umbrella to the assistant. "Thank you." "Of course," And then, after taking Emma's things, tbe assistant heads down a narrow hallway and disappears. A panel in the round room opens and Isak steps out. He's wearing a handsomely tailored, but not particularly conservative blue suit with white accents. It's cut in a rather innovative way, with a slightly higher waist and shorter sleeves. The effect is fashion forward, but he can pull it off - especially when it's accented with a subtle checked shirt and a warm red kerchief in his breast pocket. "Miss Frost. I'm Isak Blomgren. I'll be taking you through our collection today." He offers his hand out to her. The assistant returns just then with the sparkling water with lime and hands it to Emma. Emma steps forward and takes Isak's hand, shaking it gently once before squeezing his fingers. She nods as she releases and turns to take the glass of water. "Thank you, Mr. Blomgren, but you can call me Emma. I've heard excellent things about your collection this season and wanted to take a look for myself. Of course, I also come on behalf of the interests of the Hellfire Club. We're always looking for the best and, if our appointment goes well, will be looking to recommend your business to our visiting members." She takes a sip of water as she looks around before settling her attention on the young man, her mind starting to sift through his surface thoughts, listening to what he's thinking, passively. "And you can call me Isak. Please, come this way." He leads her towards a wall. A spot is touched on it and it pops open. He pushes the panel back to reveal a row of suits, specifically selected for her, and sized appropriately. "Any of these would be tailored, naturally. Is there a certain type of suit you're searching for?" His surface thoughts are orderly and controlled. He is in business mode, in salesman mode. There is a fleeting thought that he would rather be in the French Riviera scmoozing at fashion shows, but the thought seems consciously pushed to the side as an indulgence. "I wear suits almost every day," Emma admits, curling the glass inwards against her forearm, her first finger rubbing gently against the upper rim. "I do tend to restrict my palate to shades of white, though. I hope that won't be a problem?" She lets her gaze drift across the shoulders of each of the proposed outfits, then steps forward to touch the first sleeve. "What would you select for me?" "Not at all. Our suits can be customized using a wide variety of fabrics and shades." Isak looks at her more directly now, appraising in a way that looks professional. "I see why you stick to white. You could of course, pull off any number of colours. But sticking to a solid palate is a powerful move." The more he speaks, the more his soft accent is audible. It's difficult to place on first blush. "For you..." he looks through the suits and finds them lacking. "Hmm. My apologies. I don't believe the person who pulled these suits read you properly. Pardon me a minute." He flips back a small panel on the wall and searches through a digital touch display. He punches in a code, and the floor beneath them vibrates with the movement of machinery. Once it slows to a halt, he shuts the panel door and opens the one next to it. Inside are a dozen suits, all in shades of white. He feels the cuffs of a few, then tugs out one and carries it to a hook that he pulls up out of the ground by hitting just the right spot with his toe. "I think this would look marvellous on you." It's a white tuxedo jacket with silk lapels and fine buttonwork with very soft embroidery embellishments, paired with slim-cut slacks. Emma watches with amusement, a sparkle in her eyes at the selection. She steps forward and and touches the cuff as well. "Interesting selection. Shall I try it on?" She holds her hand out for the hanger, focused on Isak. "I would say we're superior to Donna Karen in nearly every way, but then again, I'm biased," Isak smiles his best charming smile. There's something in his surface thoughts when he says that - something double-meaning. "Certainly, if you'd like." He hits another panel button and the door draws back to reveal a dressing room. Emma notes this as she takes the suit, nodding her appreciation then disappears into the dressing room. She listens quietly to his mind as she changes, curious about where his mind goes when she is not there absorbing his attention. When she emerges, she is wearing the suit - and only the suit, as far as the eye can see. She doesn't bother looking at Isak as she comes out, instead she approaches one of the mirrors, turning this way and that to see how the untailor suit fits her as is. There is smoke in Isak's thoughts. Not obscuring, no. He's thinking about smoke, about exhaling it, playing with it, spreading it. That could be interpreted to him wanting a cigarette, but it's also coupled with unrest, and a simmering bit of anger far below the surface thoughts. It's not anger at anything happening at the moment - rather, something deep in him. Isak clears his throat when she emerges, but he keeps his eyes in polite places. "It would need to be taken in at the waist and adjusted at the shoulders. Perhaps shortened a bit in the sleeves. Three-quarter would suit it on you. What do you think?" Emma starts to tug at the garments at his suggestions, a brow rising at the way the clothes hang when cinched in. Her fingers move deftly to roll the sleeves under, fitting them around three quarters mark. She then lets her arms hang, then lifts them to feel the way the jacket tugs at the fit of her jacket. "Hmmmm. I could see it." She turns to him and grins. "You've got a sale, mister."