3107/Tim Drake in the House of Fashion

Tim Drake in the House of Fashion
Date of Scene:	26 August 2020
Location:	JVD Fashion House
Synopsis:	Tim Drake approaches Janet regarding a matching ensemble for him and his special lady.
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Tim Drake

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Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet van Dyne doesn't take a lot of walk-ins. She's the head of one of the largest fashion brands in the world and minutes can cost millions if squandered badly.

But there are certain names that open doors in the ways of New England. Ways of politely letting people know that they know the value of someone's time, and they come with the wealth or the authority or the influence that guarantees it will not be wasted.

Thus it is, Tim Drake is sent up to the fifth floor by security, and by the time he arrives, Janet's personal secretary is standing by the elevator to greet him. "Mister Drake, you're right on time," she tells him. "Miss van Dyne's ready for you. If you'll follow me?"

She's dressed smartly in a conservative ivory suit with a long skirt and modest heels. The front office is the sort of mellow decor one would expect in a law firm, with green carpet, wood panelling, and dark leather furniture.

The double doors to Janet's offices are pulled open, and Tim's confronted with quite a view.

Janet's office takes up at least two thousand square feet. The building was once a textiles mill and her office has whitewashed over the old conduit and pipes that were never removed. On the left side of the room is an explosion of color, with rows upon rows of fabric and multiple mannequins displaying in-progress designs. It's the sort of mess one might call 'creative chaos'.

Janet is seated on the right side of the room, and like a line was drawn down the middle, it's all cool shades of white and cyan blue with gold highlights. The decor is extremely minimalist down to the modern art that matches the cool monochromatic aesthetic. Even her large desk matches, with nothing on it except a sleek white computer, a blotter, and two gold pens.

Janet gets up when Tim's brought in and smiles at him. "Mr. Drake, welcome to JVD," she says, and walks over with a hand extended, fingers down. She's dressed in a red tunic-style dress with a brief hem and a lopsided belt hanging slanted around her hips; a black bolero jacket with three-quarter sleeves gives it almost a nod at formality, though the entire look definitely would not pass muster for a corporate board meeting. Thick gold loops dangle from her ears and around her wrists. "C'mon in and get comfortable. Can I offer you a drink? Cold water, bloody mary...?" she says, and gestures at a little seating area nearby with four low-slung black leather chairs squared around a dark coffee table.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim is at least fairly well-dressed, if not comfortably so, knowing he'll have to get measurements taken: designer blue jeans, a logoless black t-shirt, a well-tailored but 'casual' jacket, unbuttoned of course, over it, with shoes that straddle the line between casual and not-casual, but easy to slip off. His black hair is mussed, as usual. It's the look many well-to-do young men of his age pull off when they are both young and wealthy enough to make a certain amount of fashion disasters work for them. Under his arm is a tablet computer.

He takes her offered hand politely, obviously schooled in proper manners. Which shouldn't be surprising-- Janet's secretary is likely thorough enough to have the basics on the young man: third adopted son of Bruce Wayne and by far the most quiet and reserved of them. He holds a Legacy membership to the Hellfire Club, first through his now-deceased parents (as unlike the other of Bruce's adopted children, he came from high society to begin with) and then immediately transferred to Bruce himself; but he's rarely seen there and when he is, its not with the sometimes playboy antics of his eldest brother and adoptive father, nor the 'got suspended for throwing a guy over the bar' of his next brother in line; but usually quiet and infrequent.

"Thank you, Ms. Van Dyne. I appreciate you taking my request for an appointment," he says with a polite incline of his head. "Water is fine, thank you." He does take one of the offered seats around the coffee table, placing his table on that coffee table lightly. He does crack a bit of a smile. "I figured its well past time I get a JVD suit and tuxedo... Gotham's fall gala is coming up soon, and I've slightly outgrown my regular tux a bit, so I might as well improve my wardrobe." He tilts his head. "Plus another thing, but that might prove more interesting for you and less easy for me to know what I'm asking for."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Ooh, how mysterious," Janet teases. She follows him to the seats and takes the one that shares the table corner with his position and sits down gracefully. Legs cross and she rests her elbow on the chair's arm for a relaxed posture, facing Tim. "I don't advertise it much but custom work for the right people is something that's good for everyone. Helped build my brand quite a bit the year I opened for business, draping some people here on the coast and out in Hollywood."

Her assistant delivers a tray with a jug of cool ice water and two glasses; she pours for both, then retrieves Janet's sketchbook and pencil and gives them to the fashionista. From there she retires quietly to the background until she's needed.

Janet flips to an open page and drums the pencil on the canvas. "Let's talk a bit about the tux. And ... this other 'thing', is this related to the tux?" she inquires of him.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Ah, yeah. It's a dress, for my girlfriend." Tim actually turns on the tablet, which opens to a small gallery of pictures of Rose Wilson. It hadn't been the easiest for him to find many pictures of her without her strapped up with guns, knives, and a sword or two... even some of the pictures from the earliest days of their groups friendship, when she still had both eyes, were almost entirely costumed or close to it, but he had wheedled her into letting him take a few shots in his living room a few days ago. She is actually smiling bemusedly in a couple of them, even.

"She'll be going to the gala with me. I have her measurements here, too," he taps the tablet, and a complete list pulls up for a moment before returning to the gallery, "and I know she'll probably have to come up at some point, but... she's not really a 'fancy dress' kind of girl very often." He pauses, and looks a little sheepish at the next request. "I wanted to have her dress and my vest and tie match. Ahh... exactly. For this." Which is the most effective high society code for 'taken' one can do short of rings and public professions.

"I'm afraid it's less mysterious and more... I know absolutely nothing about dresses other than they get worn." He cracks a smile again. "But... you do. So I leave myself, and her, in your capable hands as far as clothing is concerned."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet examines the tablet and purses her lips. "She's gorgeous," Janet remarks, and sets the tablet down. Tim's given a look of sly approval. "I've met your dad a few times. I guess that lady-killer technique runs in the family," she says with a light tone.

"Hmm. I know the reflex is probably a classic tux," Janet says. She digs her phone out of a cleverly hidden pocket in her jacket and starts searching for images. A cleverly concealed holographic display flickers an image over the table, of a very standard-looking tux. "Obviously we're not going for coat and tails, that's only for weddings and cabarets. Since your girlfriend's not really into the A-lines and heels thing, why not take a chance? Do something she'll really like and tailor your outfit to match hers. What kind of aesthetic is she into? Western wear, goth, punk...?" Janet invites commentary with a roll of her wrist, then spins the pencil around her thumb a few times in a fiddly way. "It's not like anyone at the Gala's going to turn away one of the Wayne boys for showing up with a unique look."

Tim Drake has posed:
That's an.... interesting question. Tim mentally goes over all the times he's seen Rose out of her Ravager costume, and frowns a bit. "Functional," he finally says. "She's really more... athletic wear, or jeans and a leather jacket kind of thing. I mean, she... has skirts and..." he wiggles a hand, "I guess more feminine clothes too. Just rare she wears it." He grins. "She looks gorgeous when she does though." A pause, "well, even when she doesn't, but... you know what I mean."

He eyes the holotux, and considers Janet's suggestion. "I mean, I don't mind something more unique," he laughs a bit. "It may be a bit out of my comfort zone, but to be fair, I'm not exactly comfortable in a tux usually anyway." He shrugs, smiling a bit. "Both my dad and Bruce told me I'd get more accustomed to it when I got older, though, so..." another shrug. "I'm game."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"It's a brainstorming session so there's no wrong answers," Janet says. "You can't go wrong with a little black dress for cocktail functions, but for a black-tie event a lady typically wears a gown. We can go a few different ways there," Janet says, and scrolls through a few more images. "She's got great proportions and tennis-player shoulders, so I'm thinking something like a halter-style neckline with some vertical color curves. Helps for girls who are on the tall and slender side, it helps emphasize the bust and hips."

More images. A long sleeved gown in layered blue lace with a plunging neckline; a black sheathe dress worn off-the-shoulder; a black dress with a miniskirt hem, long sleeves, and a broad strip of copper embroidery wrapping around the hem, neckline, and under one arm.

"But we could also go the other way, make something that'll really stand out," she offers. "Put her in a cocktail dress with some great shoes and a studded leather jacket, do her hair up and over for some style points. Get you in a close-fit pinstripe suit with combat boots and a tee shirt. 'Formal punk'," she says with a flashing grin. "'Yeah I know it's black tie, but this is all you're gonna get'," she quotes to a hypothetical bystander at the gala.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim snorts at that, good-naturedly. "I'm not Jason," he jokes some to the 'this is all you're gonna get' comment. "But I see what you mean. I know for her, ease of motion will be important, regardless of style." Which is the closest he dares come to even hinting at either of them having masks. "For me? I think I'm a bit too geeky to pull off punk well," he admits.

His eyes are serious as he watches the changing styles and options, though. "The last formal event we went to, I think the rest of..." he wrinkles his nose, "//them//," his tone slightly annoyed and derisive, "felt she was too underdressed." He scowls a little. "She's not exactly 'Gotham royalty', after all, so the rest of them judge her twice as harshly. I don't want her going through that again." Whatever that was, but Janet, being in the same kinds of circles, can likely guess.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet clucks her tongue and makes a consoling sound. "Well. *That* part we can fix. Remember, in New England it's not who you are that matters so much as who you know. There are plenty of people who'd love a custom JVD, and I wouldn't give them a discount at my /outlet/ locations," she says with a smug snicker.

"Okay. Punk ideas, off the table," Janet says, and tosses the images aside. "I'm thinking for your girlfriend, she's built like an athlete, so let's dress her like one. She's got those winter colors but I could see... hmm. She's got those winter colors, but we're coming into fall. How about something really bold? I'm seeing her in red and black. We'll do a calf-length skirt with a high front-cut and some pleats worked into it. We'll wrap up the top with a really bold power accent," Janet says, skething fast on paper. She gestures for her colored pencils and her attendant brings it over; she pulls a few of the expensive colored pencils out and lays down a fast outline. "Strapless top but with a red shoulder sash that holds the whole thing in place. And then I'm thinking some cream-colored Louboutains to go with it."

She turns the image around for Tim's approval. "Whatcha think?"

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim swallows a bit at the outline and the color choices. He looks at the dress she's drawn, already imagining it on Rose and nods slightly, his eyes narrowing slightly, not in distaste but in thought.

"What about a burnt orange instead of red?" he says after a moment or two of silence. Though that might be a bit //too// on the nose.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet considers Tim. "Huh. Burnt orange?" She looks at her box of pencils, scrabbles for a few, and then makes an annoyed sound.

"Mary, where are my--" The assistant is already digging out a color wheel and hands it to Janet. "Ah, thanks," she mutters, and rolls through it.

"Coming into fall, we don't wanna go too orange. People will call it the pumpkin dress," she says. "Something like... amber orange or rust-bronze, that might work nicely." She lands on one and shows it to Tim. "We could also get off basic black. Do a really, really deep navy blue. It'd give the dress a little more depth and the color only comes out when the light hits it just right," she suggests.

"For you, we want to keep it pretty close to her colors but you should have your own style too." She peers at Tim's face quite closely, eyes narrowed in analytical contemplation. "You Wayne boys and those blue eyes," she chivvies him. "Yellow and red are both complementary for orange, and blue would be the accent color. Maybe green?" She thinks about it, then shakes her head. "No, blue would go with your eyes better. It's-- okay, it's cute that you want to wear the same color scheme," she assures him. "But from a fashion perspective, dressing in complementary color tones can really create a striking visual. It's obvious the outfits are meant to go together without just being color-copies. What do you think?"

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim just blinks at the color wheel. Wow, okay, that's a lot of... names of oranges. He had really effectively had like, two or three tops in his head. "No, it's fine, whatever colors you think. I was just guessing-- the pumpkin thing is definitely not a good thing." He flushes a bit as she comments on his eyes, but grins. "Would you believe we're all adopted?" he jokes. "Except the youngest one, and his are green."

He nods to Janet's suggestions. "You're the expert here," he says agreeably. "But I'll level with you." He grimaces. "I don't technically come into my majority until I'm 25. You know, trusts, properties, the whole thing. So." He looks annoyed. "I figured I had five, six more years until I was being reminded hard that while Bruce has adopted me, I'm technically the last of the Drakes." His nose wrinkles a bit. "Let's just say I've had a couple of 'suggestions' lately on that score and how to remedy that problem, and it always seems to come down to 'my daughter is around your age' or something of the like." He groans slightly, looking embarrassed for a moment. "So... I don't want her to deal with the cattiness and //I// don't want to deal with the vultures."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Mmm," Janet murmurs, and shifts in her seat before leaning over the armrest again. "Pro tip? If anyone comes up to you talking about her kids, just ask 'Yeah is she having a good time in rehab?' way too loudly," Janet suggests with a mischevious grin. "Either she'll get offended and leave, or embarassed, and also leave."

She waves the advice off with a flick of her fingers and taps on the drawing again. "But this is high society, and if she wants to play at that level, at some point you're going to need to help her learn how to deal with catty bitches like me," she instructs Tim. "She looks like the sort who doesn't take a lot of shit, but there's an art to the veiled insult. You don't want her to get a reputation for being crass any more than for needing you to save her from vain socialites."

"Let's do this then; I'm gonna put you in that same midnight blue. We'll do your lapels and waistcoat in that rust-orange, and you'll want to pick up a fresh yellow rose or a Persian Buttercup for your boutonniere," she informs him. "For her, platinum and diamonds, and a bangle on the *right* wrist since it's a left-hand dress. You could hit up Cartier and Tiffany for something fast and easy, but for something custom, talk to Hassan Bounkit-- he's adorable, accent is as intelligible as mud but he's got a great eye for unique settings," she suggests.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Funny," Tim says with amusement, "that's almost exactly what Bruce advised me to say." He frowns a bit. "Yeah. I'm working on it, but its not as easy for people who didn't grow up around it... knowing when to smile and nod and when a remark is actually well-timed." He sighs a bit, but then leans forward, listening to her suggestions, and nodding. "Hassan Bounkit..." he flips out his phone, putting that name into it to look up when he leaves. "I'll talk to him for sure. Unique is definitely better than swinging into Cartier." He considers. He might have additional custom work, perhaps, as well. "White shirt, I'm assuming?" for under the coat, of course. He mentally goes through his cufflinks, figuring he would have something that should work.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"White would be best. But I'll handle that end," Janet promises Tim. "Your girlfriend's going to need new shoes anyway, so I'm going to get those figure out first. Yours too, that way you can break them in. Never take new shoes to a gala," she admonishes the Wayne scion. "Especially if she's not accustomed to high heels."

"If you get stuck at the jeweler's, let me know and I'll send someone by to help you out," she adds, and rises smoothly to her feet. "It can be tricky to coordinate outfits without having them in hand. Oh--" Janet rests fingertips on Tim's arm. "Also, do *not* forget to have her see a stylist and get her hair done. This is not the sort of event where some brushing and a conditioner is going to be adequate."

"Figure... give us a week to get this made? Mary will take you downstairs and we'll get your measurements, and I'll put my people to work on the outfits. We do need your girlfriend in here sooner rather than later, and then we'll do a final fitting a few days before the gala so it's fit proper."

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim nods. "Louboutins, cream color," he repeats from earlier. That's easy enough. He'll get his own shoes at the same time. "Should I have the custom pieces sent here to make sure they are coordinating correctly?" he asks. "Stylist, yes." That one may be trickier than getting her in for a fitting, but Tim was fairly sure he could manage it. "And I'll bring her back up here, just let me know when and I can convince her for a day trip up here to New York." He grins a bit, getting to his feet as well and grabbing the tablet. "I can forward you the measurements data and the like from here," he sighs, some tension leaving him. This wasn't so bad. "So... measurements it is."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet grins and gives Tim's arm a reassuring squeeze, nudging him to the door while her assistant moves ahead to open them. "I promise, it won't hurt. They don't bite and they haven't stabbed anyone with a needle in ages," she promises Tim. "And I'm really looking forward to meeting your girlfriend!" she adds. "Bring her by as soon as you can. Even the really tough girls like to get dolled up once in a while. I guarantee that you two will be in the Fashion section of the New York Times the day after the gala," she bids Tim. "And like I said-- if you run into any trouble, get a hold of my assistant and we'll send a courtesy crew out to help you out. There's no shame in asking for help." Janet winks at Tim conspiratorially, then bids him farewell from her door before disappearing back into her offices.