The next morning, Aunt Matilde stood before Clara’s wardrobe, meticulously selecting three outfits for the day’s engagements—a museum visit, lunch at a fine restaurant, and an afternoon walk in the park. Each ensemble was designed to uphold Matilde’s unyielding standards of propriety.
The first outfit was a navy blue midi dress with a structured bodice and a stiff, high collar that framed Clara’s neck like a vice. The fabric was thick, designed to hold its pristine form despite the summer heat. Long sleeves with pearl-buttoned cuffs ensured no bare skin was exposed. It came with matching navy leather gloves and a coordinating hat adorned with a neat ribbon. The outfit was completed with sheer black stockings and a pair of pointed-toe black patent leather heels, their unforgiving height ensuring Clara’s posture remained impeccable.
The second choice was a tailored ivory suit with a knee-length pencil skirt and a fitted blazer that cinched at the waist with a narrow belt. The crisp white blouse beneath it featured a ruffled front, its stiff collar once again fastened to the very top. The ensemble demanded white gloves and sheer nude stockings, while a pair of pristine beige heels, with an even more precarious arch than the first pair, promised unrelenting discomfort. A pearl necklace was laid out as a final touch—a necessary refinement, according to Aunt Matilde.
The third option was the most suffocating of all: a deep burgundy dress with a high neckline and lace detailing that traced the collar and cuffs in intricate patterns. The bodice was reinforced with hidden boning, ensuring Clara’s posture was rigidly maintained. The full-length sleeves were tightly fitted, emphasizing slender arms, while the skirt flared slightly, though not enough to provide any relief from the restricting layers. This look required black gloves, the heaviest pair of stockings, and elegant yet mercilessly tight burgundy heels with delicate straps around the ankles.
Aunt Matilde turned to Clara with a cool gaze. "You may choose, but remember—grace and discipline above all."
Clara hesitated for a moment before selecting the ivory suit. Aunt Matilde nodded approvingly and gestured for her to begin her morning preparations.
Clara stepped into the bathroom, the cool tiles offering a fleeting relief against the lingering warmth of the morning. She turned on the shower, letting the water warm slightly before stepping under the gentle stream. She lathered her body with scented soap, ensuring her skin was left smooth and perfumed. Carefully, she shaved her legs and armpits, her strokes precise to prevent even the smallest nick. Once satisfied, she rinsed off and stepped out, patting herself dry with a thick towel before applying a light layer of body lotion.
She moved to the mirror, inspecting her face closely before plucking any stray hairs from her neatly shaped eyebrows. The sting was sharp, but she ignored it, knowing Aunt Matilde would accept nothing less than perfection. Then, with meticulous care, she applied her makeup—foundation for an immaculate complexion, a hint of blush to her cheeks, carefully blended eyeshadow, sharp eyeliner, and deep red lipstick applied with unwavering precision.
Returning to her bedroom, Clara began the painstaking process of dressing. She slipped into a pair of sheer nude stockings, ensuring they were perfectly smooth before securing them with delicate garters. Next, she donned the crisp white blouse, fastening each button carefully, the stiff collar enclosing her neck in a firm embrace. She adjusted the ruffled front, smoothing every pleat before stepping into the tailored ivory pencil skirt, zipping it up at the back with deliberate movements.
The fitted blazer came next, cinched at the waist with the narrow belt that emphasized her posture. Clara took a deep breath as she put on the white gloves, the silk sliding smoothly over her fingers, a final layer of restraint. She bent down, slipping her feet into the pristine beige heels, the precarious arch already sending a sharp ache through her soles. Finally, she fastened the delicate pearl necklace around her neck, its cool weight a finishing touch to her ensemble.
Clara stood before the mirror, taking in her reflection—every element meticulously in place, every piece reinforcing the rigid elegance demanded of her.
Aunt Matilde approached, her gaze sharp and unwavering as she began her inspection. With gloved fingers, she adjusted the ruffled front of Clara’s blouse, ensuring not a single fold was out of place. She ran a critical eye over the pearl necklace, then tugged at the cuffs of the blazer to verify their perfect alignment with the gloves.
“Stand still,” Aunt Matilde ordered as she smoothed down the skirt. “Your seams must be flawless. There is no room for sloppiness.”
Clara swallowed, her stiff collar pressing into her throat with renewed pressure. "Aunt Matilde, please, it's so tight—I can barely breathe," she whispered, desperation creeping into her voice.
Matilde’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nonsense. A lady does not whine about discomfort. You are dressed appropriately.” She adjusted the belt, pulling it just a fraction tighter before stepping back to survey Clara’s posture. “Straighten up. Chin lifted. There. Now you look presentable.”
Clara clenched her gloved hands, willing herself not to plead further. The weight of the stockings, the oppressive grip of the blouse’s high collar, and the relentless bite of her heels made her want to cry out for relief, but she knew it would be useless. Aunt Matilde had no patience for weakness.
“Aunt Matilde, if I could just loosen—”
“Enough, Clara,” Matilde snapped, her voice calm but firm. “A refined young woman does not fidget with her attire. You must learn to carry yourself with dignity despite minor inconveniences.”
Clara blinked back frustrated tears, nodding silently as she forced her shoulders back, knowing that, as always, resistance was futile. She turned, finding Aunt Matilde watching her with quiet scrutiny.
"That will do," Matilde said at last. "Now, let us depart."
