As Quinn made her choice, Dague smiled self-assuredly, like she’d predicted the decision. It was the right size and everything, and whether that was a matter of professional preparation, or inexplicable precognition would likely remain unknown forever. 

“Well someone should,” she answered. “And black isn’t my color. This way.”

She led Quinn to the back with the same gentle yet insistent hand. The clerk came back out, still wide-eyed and fidgety. 

“Madam, should I bring those in?”

“No. Switch them out with the mauve and aquamarine. I have a feeling tastes will be shifting soon.”

The back of the shop was not much bigger than the front, with a door leading into what might have been the workshop shut tightly, and another leading to dressing room with a long, heavy curtain for a door. Dague slid it open to reveal a there was a full-mirror and a dressing hooks on the walls. 

“There’s a single zip in the back, designed for you to be able to do up yourself. In you go!”