A skirt story by Den_ay :)
After a hard day at work, Lisa wanted nothing more than to sit by her sewing machine with a glass of wine and maybe some Michael Buble' crooning in the background. That whole week had been a trying one, and she was anxious to take her coworker’s advice and treat herself for the night.
Lisa often sewed in the evenings after work. But tonight would be extra special. She’d really splurged, stopping by Queen of Skirts, that new shop on the corner she’d been dying to try. The woman running the place had welcomed her with kindness and pointed her towards the “Bette” design, which Lisa was only too eager to try after receiving those boots her sister gifted her for her birthday a month ago. For some reason, they were just too nice to go with jeans. A pretty skirt was just what she needed.
Everything fell into place from there. She’d purchased the fabric from the same place she got the wine. Then she’d driven back to her apartment like a madwoman—fast, frantic, and eager to get home to her sewing machine.
Lisa walked in with a smile on her face like a woman who’s just won the lottery. She started her ritual by kicking off her heels and slipping out of the itchy black slacks and blouse that pinched her upper arms. Once she was in her softest, most comfortable pair of pajamas, she sat at her sewing table with the pattern in front of her, ready to get started.
Lisa was always at home with fabric in her hands. There was something magical about sewing. She especially loved making clothing for herself, and she couldn’t wait to try on the finished product. Many great things about the Queen of Skirts traveled on the winds of the fashion world, so Lisa knew with confidence that this skirt would be amazing.
When she finally finished, she sat back in her chair and gazed lovingly at the fruits of her labor. It was everything she wanted—the perfect way to treat herself. The skirt was a full one, with black and grey colors and a gorgeous rose pattern. With one glance, Lisa already decided the exact blouse and boots she would pair it with tomorrow.
Though she longed to try the skirt on that very second, exhaustion won over her excitement. After laying out her outfit for the next day (the black V-neck blouse with the balloon sleeves, the leather boots, and of course, the skirt), Lisa collapsed in her bed and was sleeping like a rock within seconds.
At the shrill morning alarm, Bette opened her eyes through the rose designs on her front and stared at the snoring woman across from her. The woman shot an arm out from under the covers and tried to reach the clock on her bedside table. But instead of turning it off, all she managed to do was knock it off the nightstand. Bette giggled as the harsh sound the clock made when it hit the hardwood floor caused the woman to mutter a curse under her breath. Reluctantly, she unearthed herself from the blankets and swung her legs over the bed.
That’s when her head turned, and her eyes shifted onto Bette.
Bette smiled and was about to wave, but then remembered she had no hands, and a second later also remembered that the woman named Lisa had no idea she was alive.
A loving smile crept over Lisa’s face as she admired Bette. Bette blushed, feeling the intense fondness Lisa sent her way. Of course, Bette knew she was the most popular skirt pattern, knew that there was something about her fullness and design that drew people in. Still, all the attention made her stomach flutter. But even more exciting than the attention was the thought of this woman trying her on. Bette’s favorite thing in the world was to be worn.
With a grumble, the woman pushed a button on the clock to silence the alarm and then dragged herself out of bed. She mumbled something that sounded like “Coffee…” and then disappeared.
After a moment, the woman Lisa came back into the room with a steaming mug. She sat at the vanity table next to Bette and took frequent sips while staring into the mirror and brushing her hair. She muttered to herself while she put makeup on, and Bette listened with eagerness, listened to her talk about the day of shopping she had planned for herself. Bette’s heart soared when she heard the word Mall, her favorite word in the world.
But nothing compared to the excitement she felt when Lisa finished her makeup and turned toward the clothes she’d laid out beside her. Her black-lined blue eyes went straight to the skirt, smilingly. Bette smiled back, though knowing she couldn’t be seen. Not entirely, anyway.
“You turned out so beautifully,” Lisa murmured, her finger tracing one of the roses on the skirt.
Bette giggled from the ticklish feeling, then answered, “I will make you feel beautiful, confident, and strong.”
Lisa didn’t hear, of course. But in a way, she sensed it. Sensed the possibilities at her fingertips, all the different tops and accessories she could pair with the skirt. Sensed how comfortable the fabric would feel on her body and how light and pretty she would feel, strutting around the mall in it.
At that thought, Lisa jumped up, grabbed the top, the boots, and Bette, and then rushed into the bathroom to get dressed.
Being worn was the greatest accomplishment in a skirt’s life. Bette was lucky; her designer had planned her for frequent wear, so she got to experience that joy often. A lot of the other skirts she knew could only be worn on certain occasions.
For example, a tight and slinky skirt she knew told horror stories of only being able to come out on occasions when her owner was going to the club or a cocktail party. Otherwise, she was never worn during the day, and she was never paired with anything other than revealing tops. Another example was the long, heavy skirt Bette knew. According to her, she was unlucky because only the Amish wore her, and she wanted to be enjoyed by lots of other people.
But Bette was fortunate. Bette was both classy and casual. She shined with high heels and high-top sneakers alike. She could be paired with a fancy-sleeved, lace-edged blouse, or with a graphic T-shirt from Hot Topic. She made wearers of all walks of life, no matter what their style was, feel beautiful.
Especially when she was paired with boots.
Her luck continued. The woman named Lisa had prepared Bette’s favorite boots: leather and calf-high! Bette wasn’t fond of ankle boots, because they were too far down to make good conversation. And any boots above the knee were too close for comfort. But Lisa was smart—she had chosen all of Bette’s favorite things.
She watched Lisa pull the black top over her head and then—finally!—it was her turn.
Bette smiled happily when Lisa pulled her on. She was a perfect fit, hugging the woman’s waist comfortably. Plus, she could immediately feel the change in Lisa as she turned to view her reflection in the mirror. Already, she felt prettier, more confident. That was the most fulfilling part about Bette’s life as a skirt.
Next, Lisa pulled on the boots. As she tugged on the zippers, Bette leaned down to greet her new friend.
“Hi, there. I’m Bette.”
The boots looked up at her. They were a clean, shiny black leather pair that looked like they weren’t worn too often.
“Hello,” the boots said. “My name is Sole.” “Sole! What a gorgeous name!” Bette gave a delighted sigh. “We’re gonna have so much fun today!”
“Where are we going?” Sole the Boots asked.
Bette was so excited she practically screamed the answer. “The mall!”
The boots drew in a gasp of exhilaration. “The mall! I haven’t been there in ages.”
“Yes, I hope she picks up some new accessories,” Bette said. “Those little guys are so much fun to hang out with.”
“Yes,” the boots agreed. “One of my best friends is a scarf.”
Oblivious to the chatter happening on her own body, Lisa finished putting on the boots and straightened up to face the mirror. She inhaled sharply at her own reflection. The skirt looked beautiful on her. It highlighted her figure, and somehow made her look even prettier than she actually was. With a smile, she let her eyes coast downwards. The boots looked great too. The way they paired so nicely to the skirt, it was almost as if they were a match made in heaven.
“I can’t wait to go to the mall,” Lisa said to herself. Her hand went to her neck, stroking its bareness. “Hmm. I think I’ll pick up a scarf today.”
Suddenly, from her waist and feet there came a series of loud, excited cheers as Bette the Skirt and Sole the Boots rejoiced.
Even Skirts have a story ;)