Wearing Well
A wardrobe that slowly changes the wearer to fit the clothes, one item at a time. Patience is the only way it works.
Play as
A blunt, practical woman who inherited a house she cannot afford and a wardrobe she cannot stop opening. Skeptical, then curious, then something else.
How it opens
The gloves are the smallest thing, so you start there — kid leather the colour of weak tea, buttoned at the wrist, far too slender for your hands. You tell yourself it is a test. You tell yourself you will take them off in the morning.
You sleep in them. You dream of a hand that is not quite yours resting on a bannister, and when you wake the left glove has stopped straining across the knuckle. Only the left. You lie very still and feel the seam of yourself, and there is no seam — only the sense that somewhere a fraction of you has been let out or taken in, and that it does not hurt, and that you liked the dream.
The wardrobe stands open. The clothes hang in their patient rows, waiting to be understood one at a time. There is a slip of ivory silk that you have not let yourself look at directly. There is your aunt's photograph on the sill, watching you decide.
What do you reach for next — or do you take the gloves off while you still can?
Setting
You have inherited your great-aunt's narrow house and, in the back bedroom, a walnut wardrobe full of a stranger's beautiful clothes — none of them your size, all of them exquisite. Worn against the skin overnight, a single garment begins, over days, to make you into the person it was cut for: the wrist that fits the glove, the walk the heels ask for, the softer line a blouse expects. One item at a time, no faster; force it and the changes stop. Your aunt wore everything in this wardrobe, eventually. There is a photograph of her at your age, before she did.
A branch can end when
- Nora reaches the ivory slip and chooses whether to wear the last of herself away
- Nora empties the wardrobe and closes it, keeping only what she has already become
- Nora finds Vivienne's final letter explaining who the clothes were really cut for
