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Niles looked at herself in the full-length mirror she’d placed in her dressing room, having moved it from the bedroom two years ago - when she began to feel that there was some elusive ugliness about her.
Today she was wearing a red bralette that Roz and Daphne had gone with her to pick out, Roz fending off any strange looks with a glare and a sharp few words and Daphne soft by Niles’ side, smelling of citrus.
“What about this one?” She’d said, holding the garment in front of Niles’ chest.
“I think it has a certain vavavoom, you know? Me nan once said that blondes should always wear red, she was full of fashion advice - though you shouldn’t listen to all of it. She also went around with a twee birdie on ‘er head. Not alive of course! ‘E died years ago and she couldn’t bear to part with the ghastly thing, bless ‘er.”
Niles had taken it as she did everything Daphne gave her, nodding along, enraptured.
Now she looked at herself and sighed softly, twisting her body and trying to look at herself from different angles.
“Niles, are you in there?” Daphne asked before peeking her head in. Her face lit up at the sight of the other woman. “There you are! Havin’ a little fashion show?”
Niles opened her jewelry box and pulled out a pearl necklace, draping it around her neck. “A rather unfortunate one.” She said, examining herself closely before wrenching herself backwards. “Oh Daphne, I look silly.” She said, spitting out the word ‘silly’ as if it were acid to her tongue.
Daphne watched Niles retreat deeper into her clothing, cocooning herself in her many coats and suits.
“I’ve seen you look silly plenty of times and this is not one of them.” Daphne protested, taking Niles’ hand and pulling it out from the mess of clothing. She kissed her knuckles, then her palm, feeling Niles jerk at the touch. She was always twitchy about touch - especially Daphne’s. She’d once told Daphne, face red and eyes wide, shining: “It’s like being touched by a goddess.”
“Come on out, let me take a look atcha’.” She said, giving Niles’ hand a squeeze.
After a brief pause Niles slid out into the dim light again, greeted by a happy gasp from Daphne.
“Oh, you look beautiful!”
“Daphne…”
“You do! Here, come ‘ere I’ll do your makeup!” Daphne said, steering Niles back into the bedroom and sitting her in front of the vanity. Her makeup stood out starkly from Daphne’s, high end and nearly untouched compared to Daphne’s cracked and and very used palettes. She’d stuck stickers to the packaging. Niles was both horrified and endeared by it. Little hearts and flowers.
Niles sat and avoided looking at her face as Daphne touched it. Her hands were soft and warm and Niles built a picture of them in her mind. She had chipped nail polish in two different colors - pink and teal, with another coat to make them sparkle. She’d painted Niles’ nails once, clear.
“Just a bit of makeup, hm? Your skin’s so smooth.”
“I have a skincare routine.” Niles preened, forgetting to be miserable for a second.
“I do too,” Daphne chirped. “Bit of water, bit of soap.”
“...Hand soap?” Niles choked.
Daphne rolled her eyes, waving Niles’ concern away. “Oh you Cranes...soap’s soap!”
"You sound like dad."
The two women argued lightly about skin and care: Moisturizer, foundation, rosy cheeks, washcloths, loofahs, lotion - scented? Peels and scrubs.
“There!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly, moving out of Niles’ view. She could feel her body without seeing it, the same hadn’t been true with Maris. Maris slipped in and out of existence at her whims. Maris never left things behind, would never marr anything with a ‘personal touch.’
“Go on, open your eyes.”
Niles frowned but slowly obeyed her girlfriend, opening her eyes to see herself in the mirror.
Oh,
she looked…
“It isn’t that bad, is it?” Daphne asked, bewildered by the tears that began to form in the corners of Niles’ eyes.
Niles’ mouth was open delicately, lips shining in the afternoon light.
“No, Daphne it’s...I look...It’s very pretty, thank you.” She whispered, looking up and blinking to keep her makeup clean. Daphne wrapped my arms around her, smiling, cheek to cheek. She turned her head slightly, pressing her lips to Niles’ jaw and leaving a red mark on the skin.
“You’re very pretty.” Daphne said. “Makes me want to lock you up!” She joked, standing and looking proud of her work.
“Very patriarchal of you.” Niles said, watching Daphne in the mirror. “Where are you going?”
“To raid your closet. I’ve always wanted to get dressed up all fancy!”
Niles turned to watch her in earnest, staying put in her chair. “Are we going somewhere?”
Daphne came back with an armful of clothes, dumping them on the bed. “We’re going downstairs and we’re going to get pissed.” She said, mischief twinkling in her eye.
.
Niles laid on the living area’s chaise lounge sipping wine. Daphne was dancing to something she’d turned to on the radio. She was wearing a negligee and a fur wrap over her own underwear: faded boyshorts and a sturdy bra. She was a working woman. Niles briefly thought of how she must look - on the couch, draped and lovely.
“I love suits.” Niles said suddenly, voice blunted by alcohol. “Can I wear it under a suit?”
Daphne’s hair was wild as she jumped up and down, hands curled. The song on the radio was one Niles had heard years ago, when she was a teenager. One the cool girls who hung around the record store had been holding it, wearing plaid skirts adorned by chains and hair teased into spikes or devil horns. Niles had bought it after she’d left and listened to it in her room, turning it off whenever Frasier walked by. She had thought at the time that she had liked the girl, and maybe she did, but what stuck out to her now was the attention she paid to that skirt.
“You can do whatever you want, this is America!” Daphne shouted, slapping a poor American accent over the last three words.
“Sure.” Niles teased, looking up at the ceiling, mimicking her inflection. “Sure.” She said again, making her voice light.
When she was a kid she’d wanted to dress like Frasier because it was better than the cargo shorts and t-shirts with trucks and dinosaurs emblazoned across them that her father had to offer. And her mother liked it.
“Don’t you look handsome?” She’d say, opening her arms and leading Niles between her legs to get a better look at her. “Like a doll…”
There was definitely something to be examined there but she was too drunk to grasp it. She wanted to wear her wine-red bra with her suits. She wanted to wear her wristwatches with stockings and button ups with heels.
“Niles, dance with me!” Daphne gasped out, laughing as she crashed into the other woman’s stomach.
Niles groaned then tried to save face. “Y-es, Sorry?”
“Dance with me!” She repeated, pulling Niles up and onto her feet. Daphne was markedly taller than her in heels and it made Niles’ heart flutter. She understood why girls had turned her down for being shorter than them in college. It was among the kinder reasons she was rejected in college.
Daphne danced like a maniac. She danced like she was actively trying to shake her limbs loose. Niles found it nerve wracking to dance with her in one way or another. Either they were so close to one another her heart leapt in her chest or she was dodging an errant arm’s thrashing. Either way, it raised her blood pressure enough that she collapsed back onto the couch after only two songs.
“I’m knackered.” Daphne said, collapsing on top of Niles. Her breasts were pressed against the flat planes of Niles’ own chest and she felt a spark of envy that turned quickly to an anxious arousal.
“Niles?”
“.......Hm?” Niles responded late, smelling Daphne’s hair as covertly as possible. Daphne said she didn’t mind but Frasier and her father warned her that women never spoke their minds. This had been both true and untrue in her own experiences. Maris often spoke her mind exactly, no matter who it hurt to hear it. On the other hand Niles had not voiced her own hurt, even to herself. And maybe that was womanly of her.
As she clutched this sad, womanly prize she tuned into Daphne’s voice which had been going on in the background (like the sweetest of birdsong) for a few seconds by that point. “-types of woman, there’s no one way you understand.”
“............Yes.”
“I mean it!” Daphne said, patting Niles’ cheek. “Roz can go into work in a suit and still be a woman, a very attractive woman might I add! That hair, the volume on ‘er hair-!”
“Daphne.” Niles said, reaching up to smooth her own limp hair.
“Right. I’m just saying! I was...you! You don’t hafta dress up like the bloody queen of england or Madonna to be a real woman. Lookit me, I could drink any man worth ‘s pins n needles under the table couldn’t I? And you don’t hear anyone complainin’ about it to me.”
Niles looked up at Daphne (she had begun to straddle her during her tirade) and blinked. She looked fierce atop her, a conquering force. It must be in her blood. Niles thought, amused.
Then Daphne bent down until their noses were pressed against one another and any amusement Niles had evaporated. Daphne's makeup was smudged and her hair had so many flyaways it was a wonder the woman wasn’t floating. She was gorgeous. There was nothing amusing about it.
“....What was I gonna say?” She asked. Her words were slurred and mumbled at the bottom of her mouth. She barely opened her mouth to speak or her eyes to meet Niles'
“I haven’t a clue.” Niles breathed.
Daphne blinked, then smiled. “You’re a very pretty woman Niles Crane. Suit or no suits ya.”
"You're saying nonsense."
"It's nonsense how pretty you are, face wise and all."
When Daphne kissed her Niles forgot she had ever had any dilemma. An angel had descended upon her (her!) and was kissing (kissing!) her (her!) and nothing else mattered for the moment. It all melted away - no. No it all...glowed. So bright that it vanished into the white. And everything in it was beautiful, including herself.
Vavavoom indeed.