R.R: Bespoke Batmans (INV)

Only as strong as the weakest link

purity must endure

It was not the 24/7 bright coloured tailoring, the custom requests that were always either princess or some new superhero, the overly generous discounts or even that the masses now had his shops location that annoyed him the most. It was the betrayal. The complete abandonment of his regulars and patrons that had forced him into this situation. Men of dubious social affinity, those who could not be seen in public, men who considered themselves too important to deal with the rabble. Hypocrisy is as hypocrisy does, he could not stand them either, but that was no reason for them to refuse to do business with him while his street was this crowded. He had been forced to call them, to actually call them and try convince them to come for a fitting, and that was unforgivable. And so here he was, on the street in his most colourful suit, forced to open his talents to the public just to keep the money coming in through the festive weeks. His prices had dropped considerably, the common folk could not afford his bespoke prices, and so his effort into each work had dropped appropriately. Not that they cared, for most, the work he did for their children here was still probably the finest tailored clothes in the entire house and so the lapse in concentration was lost upon them.



Of course, finer clothes had come forth from his shop "Rein's Raiments", it's blacked out windows had seen many a peculiar customer with extraordinary requests, and he had dealt with each one with no less than classified professionalism.

 The name of the store stood proud in black on a peeling white sign above the dark grey door. The floor inside was a black marble, and the walls a baby blue with pictures of past projects on the walls, proms, weddings, funerals etc. Along either side in the front room were glass displays with examples of his work from mascot suits to socks. Shadowed in the day by large rolls of test materials for customers to feel in random colours. His customers were often not fussed by what colour or shade their clothes were, his more experience clientele trusted his judgement. He had many a story of embarrassing situations where his advice was ignored and people left with clothes that definitely did not suit them. Past there were two rooms, one was locked, and the other had a mirror, places to sit and items to provide entertainment in such as a tv, magazines and even a treadmill. Unbeknownst to but a few, the mirror was actually a one way mirror, allowing the tailor to view the client while he made himself comfortable, thereby seeing what positions made him comfortable and showing the tailor how to structure the clothes accordingly. It was in the locked room where the owners most valuable tools, materials and thread were kept, the key kept on himself at all times, only one other person had been in there and that was the guy who had installed the mirror.





His tools were lined up in front of him at the stall, a strong oak desk in front of his shop, mortal security inside to stop the curious public from indulging in kleptomania while perusing his finer cloths. A man, Daud, sat at his right hand side in a twin three legged stool was trying his best to keep up with his fingers, fumbling and pricking his fingers at practically every loop, producing one costume for every five he himself sold. However it had been this buffoons idea to open the stall, and while his talents in the craft were left wanting, his talent for small talk and crowd comedy made him almost invaluable. He finished the last swoop of a spiderman hood, shaking up the costume to appraise his work amidst admiring “ooh” and “aah”, satisfied with his work, he presented it to the boy sitting quietly in front of him. The boys composure broke at a breathtaking speed, his parents deal of patience for present fulfilled left him with nothing left to restrain himself with, pulling on the costume quickly while the parents handed over the money. He put it straight in the safebox under the stall, and straightened up, the boy had it on and was stroking the sleeves. Half of the crowd before them was watching the boy, half watching Daud work. The mother looked up at him after examining the legs, no doubt to find a fault they could demand a further discount on. Finally satisfied at the hood and the way it's eyes allowed perfect vision and eerily accurate proportions. “It's wonderful, thank you very much Mr...” the father held his hand out. He looked at the father, and a twitch brushed across his face so fast the father missed it, then holding his own hand out and shaking it. “Rein, please, call me Rein.” and with a nod, the family moved on.