The private fitting suite of Maison Du Ciel looked like a drag queen's wardrobe had exploded.
Piles of tulle in electric lime, mountains of sequins that could blind a pilot, and enough ostrich feathers to stuff a mattress littered the velvet furniture.
"Okay, look at this one," Zoe shouted, emerging from the dressing room. She was wearing a jacket made entirely of safety-pin chains and a skirt that appeared to be constructed from recycled disco balls. She struck a pose, vogueing aggressively. "It's giving 'Cyberpunk Marie Antoinette'."
Aria, currently drowning in a voluminous, hot pink tulle gown that took up three chairs, laughed until her stomach hurt.
"It's hideous," Aria gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. "I love it. Put it in the 'maybe' pile."
