Winter Sunset Dresses

This is me using the bones of a short story to actually do fashion design. I'm more adept with words than pictures. Originally written for a competition on the Exilian blog.

Dress 1

Amelie swept into the kitchen in a beautiful ball gown.

Richter looked up briefly from the potatoes, then returned to his peeling. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No, of course not," Amelie responded. "It's the middle of winter. And I'm magical, not rich. Where would I wear it? How do I look?" She swirled around, the dress trim floating over the tiles like feather-light snow.

Richter looked up properly. His eyes crinkled into a fond smile. "Gorgeous as usual."

"I feel like a princess when I wear dresses like this. But I don't support monarchies."

"You look like a fierce, lovely citizen."

Amelie snorted.

The dress was floor-length and wide-sleeved. It started a dark red at the collar, caught the sun along the way, and finished in a creamy, gold-tinted trim. It wasn't particularly form-fitting with its thick fabric belt and loose material, but Amelie's soft collarbones and hint of cleavage didn't need it. It had intricate stitching up the front and back holding the two pieces of fabric together.

“Are you stitched into that dress? How did you get it on?”

“Over my head. It’s loose enough.”

Richter nodded. “Well, that’s good. For later reference.”

Amelie shook her head and smiled.

Dress 2
The next day it snowed. Richter invited Amelie on a walk in the evening to the lookout so they could see the sun set over the valley. Amelie prepared a simple coat dress for the occasion, of course, which sat over warm snowpants and boots. It was purple-blue of the evening and had several layers of thick material, making Amelie look like a dusk-tinted marshmallow. As Richter looked closely, he realized the dress was made of dream-stuff.

They went out, Richter bundled in layers of jackets and Amelie in her dress.

“Do you not want an overcoat?” Richter asked.

“Are you doubting my craftsmanship?” Amelie teased.

Richter kissed her cold-red nose.

They made their way to the lookout through sparkly, crisp snow and stood, arms and bodies intertwined, as the sun set over the gentle valley below.

Dress 3
The third dress on the third evening was jet black and twinkled as she walked. Amelie ducked into the kitchen to show it off.

Richter didn't look up. He often fell asleep when it was warm, and that night was no exception. Although he would certainly wake with a crick in his neck the way he was splayed over the table. At the sink was Amelie's friend Sara, visiting from next door.

"Up to no good again?" Sara said with a teasing smile.

"Always," Amelie replied. "Pity Richter isn't awake to see this one. He would love it."

“Wake him up?”

“No, he was sleepy all day.”

The dress was made of sheets of night, stitched together into sharp angles by Amelie's magic. It was form-fitting around her breasts and butt, but with shoulders and sleeves and a hem that jutted out. The pseudostars on it glistened like snow crystals, a harsh geometry made beautiful. The dress stopped just short of the floor like it couldn’t deign to dirty itself.

“You look hot,” Sara said.

Amelie hesitated. “Maybe I will wake him.”

Sara gave her a knowing smile and left the kitchen.