twinkle / bebe * open, blitz

Ting-a-ling-a-ling. The bell at the door sounds, and Bebe, the ever attentive shopkeeper, rocks up to her toes atop her stepladder. Ah! A fine man, perfect for her new menswear collection -- oversized, a focus on draping, clothes you can take from the dance studio to the road to the office. The combination of fashion and practicality, fused perfectly together, for the perfectly put together modern Capitol man. 

"Ah, you must forgive me, my acolytes," Bebe says, shushing the gaggle of customers about her. She shimmies down the steps, touching the outstretched hands. These customers are mostly women, mostly long standing devotees. They've been with her since the beginning of her career, back when she was just putting together ensembles for the mannequins, back when he had all the control. And she loves them. Oh, she loves them. But they're boring. She knows what they like. 

Somebody new? Somebody handsome and new? Right when she's debuting her first collection of menswear? Oh! Her lucky day!

All thoughts of the Ninety Seventh Games slip from her mind, out through her ears, as Bebe approaches the new face in the BBoutique. The others are happy to let her work her magic on the new addition to their ranks; and she has an Avox manning the changing rooms anyways, and if anything goes awry, the Avox has a bell to ring to alert her. 

"Welcome!" Bebe exclaims, clapping her hands together as all flat five feet of her bounds to the foyer of her store. "Welcome to my BBoutique!"

Bebe gestures to her left, to the racks of samples. 

"Please, peruse at your leisure. Or, if you'd like, I can walk you through Bebe BBoutique's seminal menswear pieces."

Oh! She sees what type he is. A discerning eye, an open ear, and a stuffed wallet just aching to be relieved. Well, Bebe is more than happy to oblige. She looks up at him -- not very far up, a welcome change to her usual clientele, who, regardless of gender, she often has to tip her head back to look in the eye. Capitolites may adore her designs, but they're still above lowering themselves in any literal way to accommodate her. It's irritating, but she wouldn't stoop down for herself either.

Discerning eye, open ear, stuffed wallet, and in the know to boot. Some people walk in her store and scoff, then pretend they don't know who she is. They turn out to be old associates of her dearly departed husband every time. No such carry on here. Because of that, Bebe thinks she'll like her new customer very much. 

At the mention of other stores on Style Street, Bebe's mood sours a little, but her smile stays bright. Professional whitening, worth every cent. 

"Perish the thought!" Bebe exclaims. She sticks her little nose up in the air, arms folded over her chest, and looks to the side. All play acting, the dramatic designer nearly turns away a customer for the unavoidable crime of comparison. "Those dolts are so far behind the cutting edge, they wouldn't recognise it if it slashed their throat! Come with me, I'll show you a silhouette!"

She totters away on her pointy heels, waving for him to follow.

"Now, here," Bebe waltzes up to the first of a procession of mannequins, whose tight, layered dance class inspired attire's delicacy is topped with a billowing leather jacket, made of fine crocodile skin. "To carry you from morning to night," the next mannequin wears an experimental design, a long peacoat type of garment made of interlocking deep brown leather loops, cinched at the waist by a thick strap. A matching bag, highly impractical for holding anything smaller than a paperback book, dangles from its plastic hand, "BBoutique's initial menswear collection focuses on one thing I think has been criminally overlooked: outerwear. Why do so many men see fit to throw on whatever jacket they can find without thinking it through? By creating this collection, I've endeavoured to construct a selection of coats, jackets, and other garments, in utilitarian colours, ideal for swapping around to top a look for any occasion."

She finishes her spiel and turns to her customer, chin proudly jutted out. 

"Now, what can I get you...? Oh, how rude. I never even asked your name!"