The dress I'm wearing may have very well come from my head, the faint gasps around me easily concurring. The fabric is dazzling and commands attention even without the silver-gold embroidery on the edges and rubies twinkling in place of buttons.
"How much do you think this could go for, Emma?" I ask, petting the generous overskirt that is cut down the center to reveal gold ruffles.
Emma analyzes the dress critically, her eyes tracing appreciatively over the excess fabric gathered around the exposed shoulders.
"This bit seems to shimmer more than the others, your highness. Is it-" she cuts herself off, but I already know the answer.
"Is it gold dust? Yes," I reply proudly.