An Evening of Fashion

The Fashion Club Hall of Fame was considering inviting new members into their elite high society fashion forum. Elite fashions from yesteryear were all in attendance. A simple white dress, was in attendance, scrawled with a message in red that could only be called TTR.

The owners of the dresses "could not be found" to join this meeting; just the fashions and clothes, themselves. TTR was the first dress to arrive and sat at a shiny glass boardroom table. Also expected to arrive was a Pink Pantsuit that insists on being called 'Salmon'; a multi shaded Brown Pantsuit  gone deaf from it's owner's constant spastic laughter; a Latina pop star's Green Napkin that barely served as a gown, and one just honked. It resembled a swan.

 All the gowns scheduled to appear were there, except one. In typical over the top artistic fashion sense, one faceted, mighty morphing mood dress was late. This was typical of her. No entrance was too grand. No red carpet could contain her over abundance in terms of creativity and fashion sense.

Salmon was next to arrive followed by Green Napkin and Swan Dress. "Is everyone, here?" Salmon asked, calling the meeting to order. She looked around the room.

"Not yet," TTR sighed. "I am not even sure why we're doing this. I mean, don't we have more important things to do like free education for those that are too stupid to appreciate it?"

"Honk!" The swan called.

A Brown Pantsuit took her seat at the table. She had gone deaf from her wearer's constant explosive laughter. "WHAT!?" The Brown Pantsuit cupped a sleeve to where it's ear should be.

"Now, now." Salmon tried to simmer the din of all the other fashions talking and chatting with each other. "We-!" Salmon was interrupted by a loud fanfare trumpeted from outside the building. "There she is" Salmon sighed. "pop stars..." she muttered.

The door to the room burst open revealing a whirlwind of green sequined butterflies. Behind the butterflies, a craft that was part rickshaw and part old timey bicycle with a big wheel in front and a small wheel in back. Two human attendants seesawed on the pedals propelling the vehicle into the room. Riding the conveyance, a fashionable frock consisting of a corset, panties, and various draperies, bubbles, sharp points, with a collar that was all glitter and diamonds. The gown floated out of the over the top of the transportation vehicle and onto a seat at the table. "The meeting can begin, now." The gown morphed itself into soft pillowy bubbles to express it's own self satisfaction in creating the biggest scene .

"Huh!?" Brown Pantsuit yelled.

"HONEY, YOU NEED TO GET A NEW AIDE!!" Salmon yelled to the Brown Pantsuit.

"WHAT!?" Brown Pantsuit cupped her sleeve to her imaginary ear.

Salmon waved her off and went on with the meeting. She knew that there'd be no point in trying to speak further to Brown Pantsuit. Salmon was sure that Brown Pantsuit was a knock-off, anyway. She was the original pantsuit. If her wearer had listened to her, her owner would be president somewhere outside her own mind.

"Welcome, finally, everyone." Salmon continued. She did a penguin dance to welcome everyone to the meeting. "Does everyone know why we're here, today?"

"More dental floss?" Green Napkin asked.

"NO!" Salmon rubbed her collar in frustration. "Shut up!" Salmon sighed.

"HONK!" Swan Dress responded.

"You shut up, too." Salmon felt her patience wearing thin.

"Can we get on with it, Pinky?" TTR whined. "Some of us have places to be useless at. This meeting is boring."

"My name..." Salmon hissed. "IS SALMON!"

"Fine, Salmon." If TTR had eyes she would have rolled them. "Whatever."

"Can we get on with this?" The bubbles started to look a little flat.  Spikes of annoyance started to appear. "My little monsters get lonely without me."

"Fine." Salmon smoothed away a botoxed wrinkle. "We're here to see if we want to welcome a new member to our little club." Salmon waddled over to a projector that flashed an image onto a white screen hung on the back wall. "Who thinks that Long Flowing Gown With Masked Attendant should be part of our club?"

There was a commotion of honking and 'What?!' as Swan and Brown Pantsuit talked over each other. The others waited for things to quiet down No point in trying to continue until the noise went down.

Finally, after careful examination of the image on screen, Green Napkin noticed something about the masked attendants. "It's racist!" she snapped her opinion.

"No, it's not." TTR defended the attendants. "They're accessories." TTR looked at the morphing mood dress for help.

"It's only racist if we say it's racist." Morphing Mood dress's bubbles plumped and turned the color of spring and flowers blooming. "I wouldn't be able to get around without my assistants." She stroked one of her drivers

"But, the masked attendants" Green Napkin wanted to prove her point. "are all brown."

"Uh.. no they aren't" Salmon pressed a button and a video from the runway played. "There!" She pointed after several minutes. "There's a white one holding a dress."

"Fine." Green Napkin sulked. "But if we include them in our club we should give them their own special category. Like the 'Jimmy Failla' award or something. Like we do with men's fashions."

"Agreed." TTR added. "Men's fashions are either boring or just ridiculous. I'd put Mayor Adams' Lapels and bedazzled anti gun public service announcement into the 'Jimmy Failla' category." TTR waved at the screen. "We could consider those attendants accessories? I already do."

The room was stunned into silence. Then they thought it over. Accessories was fashion's best friend.

"So it's agreed." Salmon penguin danced with joy. "The Masked Attendants are in as accessories. What about the dress itself?"

"Burn it, darling." Morphing Mood dress turned puke green and slipped sloppily over her chair. "It's like some kind of hideous Disney Nightmare. It makes the wearer look like Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast."

Salmon nodded. "Dress out; accessories in: If there's no further business... this meeting is adjourned."

In unison, the fashions got up and went off in their separate ways. The Mood Dress melted into a puddle of pure liquid gold. Her drivers used a sponge and pail to get her up off the floor and back onto the bike-shaw. They, then, assumed their positions and seesawed the machine away. Upon exiting, conveyance's built in fog machine engaged as well as lasers. The machine puffed as lights danced all the way back to where it came from.