16874/Gotta Have the Haber-Dashing Looks

Gotta Have the Haber-Dashing Looks
Date of Scene:	11 January 2024
Location:	Founders Island
Synopsis:	Robbie Reyes is brought to a Haberdashery and Men's Wear store to be dressed in the finest fashions. Definitely set up to be a Lady Killer, and now has a stylist.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Robbie Reyes

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Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    BOTTLE & DARRINGTON HABERDASHERY

    It's a fancy store, in downtown Gotham City. One of those stores that doesn't have pricetags on things, because if you have to ask, you're probably going to get a big decline on your credit card if you try to run it for more than just the basics. It's got English and Italian cut suits in the front window on plain manniquins, with watches, handkercheifs and argyle socks made from alpaca fibre displayed with hand-written pricetags.

    This is probably not a store Robbie would have picked.

    It's also not a store Phoebe picked.

    So who made the suggestion to go clothes shopping here?

    A black Bently Bentagya pulls up to a 'reserve' parking spot as the rain begins to drizzle down on Gotham City, and a stately man steps out, pops an umbrella, closes his door, and then reaches for the door to the back seat, and opens it for the occupant.

    "Now. Your young man -- is he taking *his* car today?" he asks in an amused, dry tone of voice.

    Alfred Pennyworth, of course, knows where young men should be shopping. He's taken most of the young men he knows here.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie Reyes has a demon inside of his body.

He has a sadistic uncle inside his head.

He has fought literal gods.

When he burns rubber, it is the road that burns, not him.

So why is a /shopping trip/ filling him with more dread than the prospect of facing Mephisto? The LITERAL devil?

And why is it that meeting a tall reed thin old British guy keeps him up at night. Let along his ward.

And yet, there he is. Parked several blocks away so no one can make comments about HIS car, Robbie walks along the sidewalk and manages to get to the shop three minutes ahead of schedule.

Which is of course two minutes AFTER Phoebe and her butler get there.

Gonna be one of those days.

He puts on a happy smile and waves, reminding himself that he is doing this for her.

And he loves her, so even if it's worse than trying to tank a punch from the Hulk, he'll do it.

It definitely felt different now after having said it.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It felt different, though nothing really changed.

    Phoebe is also stepping out in relative dressiness, wool skirt and stockings, an English cut jacket, with her hair in a very respectable blue hair wrap to stop people from gawking at its color. If she didn't trust Alfred to the point she did, she wouldn't have asked his help with this. And, to be truthful, Alfred was just a little nosy as a matter of fact, and he did want to meet the young man.

    "I would imagine he did, it's terrible weather to just walk isn't it?" Phoebe asks, straightening herself out for a brief moment before she turns, and spots Robbie, her shoulders rising up -- "here he is now."

    Alfred leans a little over.

    "I definitely don't see a muscle car." he grouses.

    "Hey, Robbie." Phoebe greets him, coming out from under the umbrella and under the awning of the shop itself, and with a lot of guts required for her to give public affection, she goes to the tips of her toes to give a chaste kiss on his cheek.

    "May I introduce Bruce's butler, and my sort-of guardian, Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred, this is Robbie Reyes."

    Alfred gives a small smile.

    "Mr. Reyes. A pleasure to finally meet your acquaintence. Though I must ask -- I heard you drive *quite* the vehicle, did you walk all the way here?" he gives a friendly smile, holding his gloved hand out for a firm shake.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
    The extent to which Robbie is enduring this day should be proof positive of how much he truly cares about Phoebe. Not only eschewing his car for a brisk walk to avoid needless attention, with the rain he had to leave his precious leather jacket in the Hellcharger as well. Instead, he is wearing a light wind breaker over a clean, solid colored shirt that he had managed to scare up.

    There was nothing to be done about the jeans, as he had very little else to offer. Hopefully, that will not get him into too much hot water.

    Seeing Phoebe in the remarkably different outfit - flattering in its own way - almost gets him there, but he manages to avoid hawking a bit, and as she leans up to kiss him he smiles.

    "Hi Phoebe," he say, before turning to ALfred and offer his bare hand. "Hello Alfred. I've heard so much about you," he says. "Usually in the context of how much worse my cooking is than yours." He smiles to the man. "A pleasure to meet you."

    So far, so good, he hopes.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Alfred's handshake is very business-like, firm grip, shake once, and release.

    "Very strange, because Miss Phoebe has said enviable things about your enchiladas and mole; I hear you are quite the cook yourself." Alfred gives a smile, folding the umbrella as he steps under the awning. "As well as an excellent mechanic." He reaches to open the door to the shop. "Well, let's get out of the weather before it bares down on everyone, shall we? Miss Phoebe, ladies first."

    And he holds the door open for Robbie as well -- partially to make sure the young man doesn't bail.

    Inside the shop it's a good bit warmer than the outside. It smells like clean wool and linen, tea tree and something vaguely oak and floral. A few tailors to the side are shown altering suits for clients. There are tall walls of various shirts, hats, pants, and stacks of socks and ties. Bowties. Long ties. And shoes polished to a brilliant sheen. There are names like van Dyne, Lauren, Brioni -- stuff you see people wearing to red carpet events.

    Phoebe reaches a gloved hand for Robbie's briefly.

    "Remember to breathe. Alfred knows what he's doing." she whispers softly to him.

    A thin, severe looking man steps out from behind a divider, and he begins to storm up, his mouth opening before Alfred shuts the door behind the two, and steps forward.

    "Giorgio." he states primly.

    The thin man stops in his tracks, and a knife's-edge smile forms on his face.

    "Mr. Pennyworth."

    "I beleive you've met Miss Phoebe Wayne before, correct? At one of the functions at Wayne Manor? Just to refresh your /impeccable/ memory, because surely you were not about to say *anything* disparaging about either of my accompanying charges today."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie was not quite ready to bolt. Not with Phoebe holding his hand. But he was /close/.

He regards Alfred with a bit of admiration and appreciation as he gets the salesman in line, and pumps Phoebe's hand once to show that he is still there.

But this is well outside of his element, so for the moment he does nothing other than stand there, quietly, and observe.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Ah, yes, Miss Wayne." Giorgio states, as if recalling from memory.

    "And this gentleman is Mr. Roberto Reyes, and is to be treated with respect." Alfred states, as if admonishing a gradeschooler. Giorgio's ears get a little red in momentary anger as he's introduced. He does not shake either Robbie's nor Phoebe's hands.

    "We really do not cater to... urban styles." the thin man states, his mouth still in that knife-sharp smile.

    "Good. Because Mr. Reyes will need an Italian cut suit in midwinter greys and high quality wool, a slim cut American suit in black, but you may have to let the shoulders out a bit for range of movement. He'll also need shirts, shoes, suit socks, and two pairs of cufflinks. I don't think he'll need a tuxedo yet; galas don't appear to be in his *current* repertoire." Alfred states, with an air of 'but it might have to come in the future'.

    "And pocket squares. Mr. Reyes, do you prefer ties or bow ties?" Alfred asks in an inquiring fashion. "Bow ties I hear have been coming back into style for young people."

    Alfred in fact is ushering Phoebe and Robbie past Giorgio, and into a little side studio. There's a square platform, and a trio of mirrors.

    "Fine, fine -- Alphonse! Measure the young man please. You may handle him." Giorgio calls out.

    Alphonse is a slight man with bleahced blonde hair, gauged ears and a moderate punk look about him, wearing a red vest, a black shirt, and neat black pants.

    "Helloooo!" he greets the trio. "How do you all do? Pleasure to see you Miss Wayne, Mr. Pennyworth, and Mr. Reyes!" he chipperly states, lifting the cloth tape off his shoulders. He has three or four of them. "Go ahead and take off your outer wear, we'll want to get measurements for your seams."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Most of that goes over Robbie's head. He knows he is getting clothes. Fancy clothes. And that a single outfit that he walks out with might be more than a year's rent.

It is only his love for Phoebe that allows him to tolerate this, but it is mighty enough to conquer most anything.

He moves towards the mirrors, and after a brief glance to Phoebe to confirm, he begins disrobing as directed.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "YEah when I got measured for gowns no one's allowed in with me except me and the seamstress; this is new to me too." Phoebe explains with a small grin as she's shown to a chair (as is proper). Alfred stands, and is chatting with the young gentleman.

    Robbie is measured. Shoulder to wrist. Neck to waist. Inseam. Around his neck.

    "Now, you look like someone who prefers wearing darker shirts to lighter shirts. You have the complexion to pull off either, but I think stark white on you is just gonna be *too much* white. Yes?" he questions. "And you'll need an outercoat, I'm thinking a dashing dark black to go with everything. Oh! Hats! Do you wear hats?" he asks, "Not trillabies, no, but you might look dashing in a proper fedora!"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
    "I think that would be fun to..." Robbie trails off, glancing at Alfred as if he senses the disapproving look coming his way. He drops that, and looks over towards Giorgio.

    "Yeah, that's me. White, uh...yeah, that's pretty usual, but it gets..." He looks to Phoebe for help, and then looks back to Giorgio. "You know what? Just put me in whatever you think is best." A pause. "Except no hat, please."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Alfred just gives a small sound of amusement at Robbie trailing off. Not quite disapproving. He was a young man once, too.

    Alphonse gives a bright grin at the order for what he feels is best.

    "No hat, got it." the bleach-blonde slender man states, and zips out of the room. He can be seen through the door pulling items off hooks.

    "Keep in mind, some of this is just to keep up appearances. We're not expecting you to show up to a casual family event wearing fancy suits, Mr. Reyes." Alfred states. "Half of the 'family' just wear pyjama pants when they're about the house. Or work clothes." the butler states enigmatically.

    Phoebe coughs, and looks up at the ceiling. She's definitely the pajama-pant wearer.

    "Here -- we -- are." Alphonse returns. "Here we have an Italian cut suit jacket, dark gray, trousers from the same dye lot, darker gray button down -- this can also be paired with a dark blue or black shirt -- or a dark wine red would look *super* with this color, paired with a black or no tie." the man states as he holds up items not for Alfred's approval, but Robbie's.

    "This one's single-breasted, since the slim fit with the double breast *I* personally feel is too many buttons, makes me feel like a mama cat!"

    "C'mon Miss Wayne, we'll step outside so he can try on the suit." Alfred states with a 'tut' sound. "Should you need a hand with the tie, let us know Robbie! I got really good tying them." Phoebe explains before she's ushered out.

    Alphonse, meanwhile, is busying himself with writing numbers down on on a notepad.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie seems a bit nervous to be left alone with the tailor. Nothing against him, of course, but without Phoebe there, his anchor, he starts to look lost.

He leans over to speak to the man. "Listen...I don't know any of what you are showing off here," he says quietly. "I just want to look respectable in front of her family, so I don't embarass her. Can you help me with that?"

    Robbie reaches up to wipe at his brow. Somehow, fighting a stream of villains is less strenuous to him than whatever this is.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Alphonse looks up, and he gives a smile. "Hey, I got you. It's hard when you fall in with someone who has their last name on multiple buildings. And trust me -- a lot of ladies love a man in a well tailored suit. They weren't kidding when they wrote 'Sharp Dressed Man'." Alphonse pulls up a stool and sits down.

    "So Mr. Pennyworth was describing different cuts of suits. Usually it means where the waist ends up, and what kind of buttons. But always remember -- if you're wearing a suit and you sit down, you unbutton all the buttons. You should never button *all* the buttons on the suit jacket. So, you wearing an undershirt under this? Good base. I'd wear one with sleeves 'cause sometimes the shoulder seams can be prickly." he explains, holding up one of the shirts and turning it partially inside-out. "Also stops pit stains from getting to these."

    "So first, shirt goes on. You button it all the way up. Then the pants and belt --" he hands things in order. "Then the tie, vest, jacket. Shoes go on somewhere between the tie and the jacket depending on how many sit ups you've done that day." he jokes breezily.

    "Mostly what our job here is to make sure the suit is tailored to your own measurements, taking in a half inch here, letting out a half-inch there. If your suit is well fitted, it doesn't matter whose name is on the label or what price tag. You look like a million bucks, you feel like a million bucks."

    Alphonse gives a smile, and offers his hand out. "And you can call me Al. Giorgio's a jerk, I'll be doing all your orders."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
    Robbie tries to follow along. Really. He almost considers taking notes. But mostly, he just listens and nods along with Al.

    "Ok, Al. Since it seems that we have no budget here..." He glances out towards where Alfred went. And then he looks back to the tailor.

    "If we're going to do this..." He adopts a bit of a grin. "Make me look killer."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "You're going to feel like a whole new man when I'm done with you Mr. Reyes." Alphonse grins brightly, and cracks his fingers.

    This is where, otherwise, there would be a short montage involving shrugging on shirts, head shakes or enthusiastic head nods. But mostly it's reworking the fits. Writing things in pencil and chalk. Discussion about fabric and patterns.

    And what Robbie is left with is a wine-dark red shirt. Black satin tie. Black vest with a subtle pinstripe. A slim cut black suitcoat and trousers in fine wool. Shined up black shoes, silver cufflinks with onyx circles.

    He looks like he could be walking into the club and ordering the $300 champagne flights. A pair of silver-and-black aviators and a matching wine-red pocket square to help break up the monochrome.

    "So I know he said dark gray, but you feel more like a modern guy rather than staunch traditional. I think this is a good look -- what do you think?"