01-30-2010, 01:25 AM
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This is when my retardation with fashion shines through like a flashlight through cheesecloth. Also, apologizes for the pp here ><;
Strel blinked absently at the collie-woman for a moment, before he realized his rudeness. It was hard to remember that most people did not need to be measured on a regular basis and would have no need to really know how tall they were and how much they weighed. The latter was significantly less important to the redhead than the height, which he needed if he wanted to do this right. Sighing, he closed the distance between them and stuck the measuring tape beside the woman to note her height. While this pained his foot slightly, he managed, wincing only once and then forcing a smile to break through it like the sun decimates a wispy cloud in the sky. Squinting at the numbers, unsteady with a shaking hand, the redhead managed to pick out the height for the woman. Taking a quick step on his good foot, the chevalier jotted down the number on the burlap scrap of cloth. It took a few going overs to get a good enough, clear enough number down. The handwriting was sloppy and the lines were rough from the texture of the surface they were written on. Strel could not read or write, so writing numbers was almost like trying to teach himself to read English. Thankfully, numbers were merciful to him; they were easy to understand.
Turning a steady gaze onto the young Cour des Miracles woman, Strel paused, the measuring tape bunched up in his hand in loops. "I'm going to tell you right now, my hands may go in the direction of something you would rather I keep my hands ten feet away from, but don't worry," he said softly, sensing her nervousness. It was to be expected of her, since she had asked if being measured hurt. The redhead chucked at that thought, letting the tape unfurl once more, though halfway now. "I won't do anything to you that you will not like. I just need to put this tape around your waist, hips, shoulders, arms, legs, and your bust. The last one may be the most awkward one." The chevalier tried to smile kindly, hoping this was not already alarming her. Most women would be bothered by a man touching her anywhere near her breasts. He just needed to let her know from the start that his hands were not going to go wandering. Breasts were not for playing with. That was an unpleasant thought for the man and he suppressed a shudder at it. Gross.
Swallowing in apprehension over how Alaine would take this, Strel pressed the tape to the front of her chest, from her collarbone down to her hipbones and then down to her kneecaps. That number joined the one of the woman's height. Now it was more of a matter of getting through this tedious process with accuracy and speed, so as to alleviate any tension and nervousness, clearly not from his own part. Measuring the arms, waist, and hips had been significantly easy, so those were finished first. Strel jotted the numbers down, next to a single letter for what they stood for. That much he could do, mostly from reading at tutorials on cloth design and crafting. The clothier simply used their abbreviation conventions for his and called it a day. "I need to measure under, over, and across your bust now, Miss Alaine." That was not a question. He skirted around her, ignoring the throbbing in his foot. He brought his lanky limbs between her arms and body, one hand holding onto the tape. In a quick moment he measured all three, noting the differences and committing them to temporary memory. When those joined the rest of the black charcoal marks on the burlap, the measuring device was careless dumped onto the table, looking as though it would become a knot. "Now that the messy part is over, I can start on the outfit for you. I hope you won't mind pink and a frock of sorts? Also, I apologize if I made you uncomfortable at all."
This is when my retardation with fashion shines through like a flashlight through cheesecloth. Also, apologizes for the pp here ><;
Strel blinked absently at the collie-woman for a moment, before he realized his rudeness. It was hard to remember that most people did not need to be measured on a regular basis and would have no need to really know how tall they were and how much they weighed. The latter was significantly less important to the redhead than the height, which he needed if he wanted to do this right. Sighing, he closed the distance between them and stuck the measuring tape beside the woman to note her height. While this pained his foot slightly, he managed, wincing only once and then forcing a smile to break through it like the sun decimates a wispy cloud in the sky. Squinting at the numbers, unsteady with a shaking hand, the redhead managed to pick out the height for the woman. Taking a quick step on his good foot, the chevalier jotted down the number on the burlap scrap of cloth. It took a few going overs to get a good enough, clear enough number down. The handwriting was sloppy and the lines were rough from the texture of the surface they were written on. Strel could not read or write, so writing numbers was almost like trying to teach himself to read English. Thankfully, numbers were merciful to him; they were easy to understand.
Turning a steady gaze onto the young Cour des Miracles woman, Strel paused, the measuring tape bunched up in his hand in loops. "I'm going to tell you right now, my hands may go in the direction of something you would rather I keep my hands ten feet away from, but don't worry," he said softly, sensing her nervousness. It was to be expected of her, since she had asked if being measured hurt. The redhead chucked at that thought, letting the tape unfurl once more, though halfway now. "I won't do anything to you that you will not like. I just need to put this tape around your waist, hips, shoulders, arms, legs, and your bust. The last one may be the most awkward one." The chevalier tried to smile kindly, hoping this was not already alarming her. Most women would be bothered by a man touching her anywhere near her breasts. He just needed to let her know from the start that his hands were not going to go wandering. Breasts were not for playing with. That was an unpleasant thought for the man and he suppressed a shudder at it. Gross.
Swallowing in apprehension over how Alaine would take this, Strel pressed the tape to the front of her chest, from her collarbone down to her hipbones and then down to her kneecaps. That number joined the one of the woman's height. Now it was more of a matter of getting through this tedious process with accuracy and speed, so as to alleviate any tension and nervousness, clearly not from his own part. Measuring the arms, waist, and hips had been significantly easy, so those were finished first. Strel jotted the numbers down, next to a single letter for what they stood for. That much he could do, mostly from reading at tutorials on cloth design and crafting. The clothier simply used their abbreviation conventions for his and called it a day. "I need to measure under, over, and across your bust now, Miss Alaine." That was not a question. He skirted around her, ignoring the throbbing in his foot. He brought his lanky limbs between her arms and body, one hand holding onto the tape. In a quick moment he measured all three, noting the differences and committing them to temporary memory. When those joined the rest of the black charcoal marks on the burlap, the measuring device was careless dumped onto the table, looking as though it would become a knot. "Now that the messy part is over, I can start on the outfit for you. I hope you won't mind pink and a frock of sorts? Also, I apologize if I made you uncomfortable at all."