Ivory pearls hang from my nape down to my breast matching the heel of my emerald-embedded shoes. They were to suit my eyes without fail when Ella selected them out of the hundreds of heels on the shoe sides. They were mainly off-white ivory, and monochromatic to the rest of my garments. I winced at the taut corset around my waist was pulled tighter and tied up in the back by my maid. "Left leg, right leg." I seem to have forgotten I have a right leg entirely, I'm often told I'm as graceless as a man with two left feet, I think to myself while I step into a large, oversized metal hoop crinoline. The cold steel press against my thighs as Ella adjusts it to my waist. She then sets me down carefully, as if I was a porcelain doll onto a plush brocade chair to slip on a cloth half-slip underskirt. Reaching underneath the itchy fabric of my skirt and through the holed metal crinoline I pull my thick white stocking further up my thighs. Feeling the cold metallic sting of the crinoline I recoil my hand back on top of my lap looking up to see Ella holding a large ivory dress. I slip on the silky fabric over my head allowing the off-shoulder balloon sleeves to slip down my shoulders, cinched at the bottom and ending at my forearm. The ruffled silk material continued from my chest down to the skirt of the gown, settled on top of the first couple layers of silk, a thin lightweight spotted fabric lay atop the actual gown; it was the same semi-transparent material as the sleeves. Small pearl buttons ran down my laced corset and tied neatly on each side. Ella beckoning me to take a seat at my dresser of considerable size gathering pins and a comb to begin working on my coiffure. I write down the word on a sheet of parchment with an ink pen, coiffure. What an attractive word, I quite fancy it. A French ambassador visiting the palace taught it to me when he complimented my hair. I inspect the word further reading it aloud while grabbing a small bottle of perfume from the corner of my dresser and spritzing it on my chest and wrist. "coiffure? Whatever does that mean" Ella inquiries of the fanciful word? I laugh " You're saying it wrong it's kwa-fure, and it means a detailed hair assortment, it a French word I learned from a visiting French man all the way from France. Ella combs my lengthy jet-black hair through hair fingertips casting aside the wooden brush, pinning up my long tresses into a decorous knot of hair braided at the backside. "You and these French people didn't the perfumer from Lyon gift you that one" She glances towards the bottle of perfume I just placed down, " So you do pay attention when I talk" I abruptly stand twirling around Ella and kneeling in front of an old wooden chest, beginning to rummage through its insides. " Of course I listen when you talk, it's my job, and get off your knees you'll wrinkle the dress" I stand up grabbing a hand mirror and sitting on my embroidered sheets cinching each earring onto my earlobe and flattering my vanity as I looked into the small rounded mirror. My most prized possessions, pearl earrings from France, Paris. The lustrous rounded balls contrasted my emerald green irises and pale complexion to perfection. Ella cups my freckled face into her hand and tucks some loose strands of hair behind my ear "My darling you look gorgeous" I smile into the palms of her hands. "Don't I always?"
Ella looks behind her shoulder, letting go of my face and smoothing out her apron. "It is time my dear."