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Ophelia really didn’t like tailors. Not the people, but the concept. The only thing worse than measurements and endless fittings was having her portraits done (it was only twice, but she hated the experience).
But obviously, they couldn’t take many clothes with them to France, and those they had now weren’t enough for their lifestyle (not that wealthy, but not that poor either). Also, Magdalena didn’t feel very comfortable in men’s clothes and Ophelia wanted to get a pair of bodies that would work better to hide her female figure. So, out of necessity, they had to visit a tailor.
Delphine gave her recommendations, and one sunny morning (respectable hours for nobility, namely, a bit past noon), they marched off to the downtown.
A bell rang when Ophelia pushed the door open, and a seamstress, glowing with hospitality, welcomed the girls.
“Ah, distinguished young gentlemen,” she said, “what do you need?”
Ophelia had to brace herself to voice their request.
“We,” she coughed to sound lower, “would like to make a special order. We are ready to pay extra.”
The seamstress narrowed her eyes.
“Oh, I think I know what you mean.”
Ophelia’s heart sank, and she heard Magdalena take a trembling breath.
“You are amateur actors!” the seamstress said conspiratorially and Ophelia bit her tongue for not coming up with this excuse herself. But it wasn’t that important, because the truth would be discovered anyway when the seamstress would be taking their measurements.
“Y-yes. We will need a dress and a pair of bodies. Well, of course, we will probably order more afterwards if we are satisfied by the quality and…”
“Of course, of course! I see, you are thrifty young gentlemen, since you came here yourselves and didn’t send a servant to ask me to come to you and take the measurements at your house, I see, I see,” the seamstress jabbered, looking very suspicious, and it made Ophelia even more nervous. “Let us begin, then?”
Magdalena threw an anxious glance at Ophelia, silently asking if she should go first, but Ophelia shook her head.
“You may sit here, while you’re waiting for your friend, young monsieur,” the seamstress exclaimed with a weird emphasis and showed Magdalena to a small cosy sofa. “And you… May I ask your name?”
“Dirk van Dregt, and this is my friend Jos Noordanus,” Ophelia replied (the names were coined by Ros and Guil, hence the ludicrousness).
“Great! Monsieur van Dregt, follow me.”
The woman waved towards a door in the back of the room.
Obviously, the tension hung in the air the second Ophelia undid the last button of her doublet. But the seamstress reacted quickly and unexpectedly.
"I would have to ask you to take your bodies off as well, monsieur. Do you have any particular request in respect of the function of the new one?"
"Yes," Ophelia breathed out with relief, feeling now that the woman could be trusted. "I need something more… flattening."
"Do not worry, I have a good hand at such a type. My partner uses them too," the seamstress smirked.
"Oh wow," Ophelia could only answer.
The measurements were swiftly taken and written down in the seamstress's notebook.
"Please tell your friend that they don't have to worry and can trust me," she said, opening the door to the shop. "It's sad to see them so frightened."
Ophelia smiled wide and nodded.
The girls spent an enjoyable half hour choosing the fabrics, and when it was their time to leave, the seamstress took their hands in hers and said with warmth and affection, "I would be happy to see you again, even after your order is ready. I think we have a chance to become good friends, if you don't mind a society of common people, such as me and my partner. Have a nice day, monsieurs!"
"Thank you, Genevieve. We promise to visit you," and Magdalena went with emotion and hugged the woman.
All in all, this particular interaction with tailors was a very pleasant one.