“Oh, my God.” 

“This is so… extravagant!” 

“Such eloquent imagery…” 

“By the stars, I could faint!” 

The praise and swoons were endless, flooding over me like a tide as I presented my latest signature piece to the rest of the designers. A simple, ordinary ballgown; minimalism rendered in a smooth, classical blue silk. 

To the naked eye, of course. 

Upon closer inspection, you could see the near-invisible silver threads beneath the surface, catching the light when the wearer would twirl during a dance and turning a simple blue dress into moonlit lake, shimmering and flowing effortlessly. The bodice fits perfectly onto anyone who wears it like a second skin, forty-nine separate pattern pieces perfectly fitted together, flowing to match the body’s natural curves. Seven layers of the most delicate fabric I could find, creating a colour that seems so simple, but changes and shifts ever so slightly from each and every angle. And the pièce de résistance? Between each layer of fabric, thousands of miniscule, hand-sewn crystalline bells, almost invisible to anyone who looks for them, but together, they create a sound like the chime of distant festivities with each and every step. 

It’s glorious. 

And everyone can see it. 

The doors of the workshop swing open, and everyone fawning over my dress stops and stands upright, like soldiers called to attention. I stand as tall as I can, peering between the heads of my co-workers. 

The Boss walks through the door, twirling his much-too-big moustache with one hand and handling his golden cane with the other. He stops just before the gathered crowd. 

“And why are we all standing around gawping, then?” 

Everyone mutters an apology, shuffling off back to their workstations and leaving me on my lonesome, facing The Boss. 

“Remember people, I want to see energy! I want to feel the vibes around the room! There should be excitement woven into each and every dress!” He shouts, applauding dramatically for a while before he even glances at my work. “What’s this?” 

I swallow, stepping closer to my piece. “It’s a ballgown.” 

He rolls his eyes, and I look away, embarrassed. “Of course it’s a ballgown. Tell me more, Lorelei. Give me details! Wow me!” He’s waving his hands around for emphasis, tapping his cane on the ground every once in a while. 

“O-okay, well, it’s a statement piece, with hand-sewn silver threads, and—” 

“No, no, no,” he tuts, pushing me out of the way and groping my creation, pulling up the dress and examining it, pinching parts of the material and pulling it in ways that I really don’t want it pulled. “I want to know what the customer is going to feel when they wear this, what their vibe will be! Don’t bore me with the technical. Give me the wow, honey!” 

“Um…” I frown, trying to figure out how to adhere to these guidelines of explanation. “The… customer will feel… fancy?” 

He gives me a side-eye. “Fancy.” 

“Well, yes? I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“W-well I do know, but—” 

“Lorelei, darling,” he drapes an arm over my shoulder and pulls me away from the dress to face the rest of the workshop. “We are L’Atelier Éclatant. Do you know what that means?” 

“The workshop of brilliance,” I mutter. 

“Exactly. Brilliance! Not the fancy workshop. Other fashion designers look like local thrift shops compared to us, don’t they?” 

I look at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“That wasn’t rhetorical, darling.” 

“Oh. Yes, they do,” I stutter, feeling my cheeks start to burn. 

“Wrong!” he shouts, letting me go and spreading his arms out, twirling around to gesture to the workshop around him. “Other fashion designers look like the dumpsters in a back alley compared to us!” 

“Right. Of course.” 

He stops twirling, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to my dress, gesturing to it. “So tell me why this is L’Atelier Éclatant, and not street trash, hm?” 

“W-well, like I was saying before, the threads that are woven into the fabric—” 

“Stop!” He shouts, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes in that bone-tired way, fingers traveling to meet at his nose. “Sorry, Lorelei, but I don’t care about the technical, alright, darling? I want results, I want wow! Capiche?” 

“But the technical is the wow.” 

“Ah ta ta ta ta!” he exclaimed over the top of me. “Who knows better, me, The Boss, or you, the worker?” 

I grit my teeth, my nostrils flaring. “You, sir.” 

“Good, great. Listen, I didn’t want to spring you on this yet, but I think this is the right time. You’re being let go.” 

My eyes widen in shock. “You— What?” 

“I’m sorry, darling, but I just don’t think you fit this place! Your energy is always so flat compared to everyone else, your work area just has the stink of bad vibes all the time, it’s exhausting to be around!” 

My mouth hangs open in disbelief, and he just stands there, looking all apologetic while still staring at my dress. “All of my dresses are your bestsellers, each and every one! What do you mean, bad vibes?” 

“Oh, darling, I don’t know which of you make the dresses I just sell them.” 

“Ask anyone, then! They’ll tell you which mine are!” 

“I just wish you were a little more… excited, a little bubblier like some of the other girls,” he says, completely ignoring my words. “I walk in here to your workstation every day, and I just feel so… bleurgh.” He mimes the act of throwing up all over my dress, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt angrier in my life. 

“This is bullshit.” 

“No, darling, your attitude is. Go on, pack your things.” 

I glare at him for some time before tearing my eyes away, stomping towards my dress to tear it off the mannequin. 

“Oh, that isn’t yours,” he says, matter-of-factly, and I slowly turn to face him again, one hand on the sleeve of the dress, knuckles white as bone. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You made that for the company, yes? So, it’s ours. Please leave it alone.” 

“Isn’t it shit, sir?” I spit, barely stopping myself from tearing the sleeve off the dress. “Someone exuding bad fucking vibes could never make something worthy of L’Atelier Éclatant, could they?” 

He just chuckled at me. “Oh, I’m good enough to spin mediocrity as the latest in haute couture fashion.”