By the first quarter of 2024, fashion was a multi-trillion dollar industry centered around seismic weekly style shifts. Today, it’s worse. Hundreds of millions of people routinely spend 30% or more of their income on clothing monthly, and 93% of those people throw away clothing within two months of purchasing it. Shipping has completely bogged down, with the Port of Los Angeles routinely reporting backlogs of close to three hundred ships, almost all of it fast fashion. The thrift industry, which had been a small 3% of all clothing sales in 2021, has collapsed to nearly one hundredth of a percent in 2025 as it has been flooded with fast, cheaply-made fashion.
The biggest problem with fast fashion is the pollution created by making it. But a second, more nefarious problem is almost as bad; what does a customer do with her new favorite top when it’s not in vogue next week?
* Excerpt from Fast Fashion: New Problems and Solutions, by Eoin Nix, 2025
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Chapter Nine
[Greetings, temporary designation Maiden Voyage/Alice Pendleton. Welcome to Mme. Baudilaire’s Boutique/Dreamstyles/The Outfit Place. Please accept the quest/mission/task ‘Alias Creation’ to continue.]
I wasn’t in bed anymore. And I certainly wasn’t in the shelter. In fact, I wasn’t anywhere. The world around me was nothing but black - true black, no nighttime black. I held up a hand and marveled at the neon turquoise wireframe that had replaced my body. Everything was correct, down to my fingernails. But nothing was filled in between the wireframe. I had nothing on, but felt totally covered. I had to be dreaming.
[Please accept the quest/mission/task ‘Alias Creation’ to continue. Accepting the quest is important/critical/needed for proper outfit creation to commence/start.]
[Oh, right!] I stopped, puzzled. [No voices here, huh?] The words popped up as text and then faded away into the black around me. [Mission Menu, please!]
Mission Menu
Mission
Difficulty
Status
Rewards
Priority: Alias Creation
1 (Easy-Cheese)
Unaccepted
N/A
[Uh, Accept!] I wrote as I stared at the only available mission.
[Wonderful! I/We am/are Mme. Baudilaire/Claire Loewen/The Seamstress. Here at Mme. Baudilaire’s Boutique/Dreamstyles/The Outfit Place, I/We have everything necessary to create/manifest each Magical Girl’s alias and uniform, as well as anything a Girl could imagine to customize that outfit/uniform to their tastes. Please stand still/don’t move.]
I flinched and squeaked in fear as hundreds of clothes racks zoomed inches away from my face, the wind buffeting me back and forth. A mirror fell from above, twisting and spinning, only to stop right in front of me. Soft lights appeared above me, suspended from nothing and rocking in the wind. I squeezed my eyes shut and cringed as a chair materialized under me and I fell into it.
The wind stopped and I felt warmth on my wireframe. I cracked my eyes open. They widened the rest of the way on their own.
Where I’d been standing in the blackness was a small boutique. A few clothing racks sat nearby with mostly-white blazers, skirts, and shirts to choose from. Shoes ranging from runners all the way to thigh-high boots lined one wall, while the other housed dozens of ribbons, headbands, hairpins, and hats. I imagined soft violin music in the background and I could almost feel the burgundy rug between the wooden floor and my feet. Almost.
[Okay, this is familiar. Shopping! What’s first?]
[As a Magical Girl/Operative below age eighteen, certain aspects/parts of your outfit are required by Sanctuary’s regulations/guidelines. Please stand. You will use the chair later when you and I/We select socks, stockings, and shoes.]
A white sports bra and boyshorts appeared on my wire-frame. [Select a color and say ‘accept’ when finished/happy. You may change/adjust/modify styles slightly as needed.]
[Not white. Navy blue? Darker. Darker!] Each time I thought, the undergarments changed until they were nearly black. [Accept!]
[Next, your uniform. I/We will start you with a gray skirt, lower thigh length. Also, a white blouse. From there, you may customize/modify/change.]
[Does it have to be a skirt? What are your options for dresses?]
I jumped as the clothes racks flew toward the wall in another gust of wind. As they reached it, they vanished, and new ones careened into the room. This time, I looked around and spotted a wire-frame cat on the check-out counter. Its three tails swished as clothes racks zipped by, directing them in and out of the room. It looked me in the eye as I stared and jumped down behind the counter.
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[Please focus on the dresses/uniforms/outfits, temporary designation Maiden Voyage/Alice Pendleton.]
There on the racks hung thousands of dresses. Whenever I looked at one, it popped onto my wire-frame body, and before I could think about it, I’d gone through hundreds! Poofy sleeves! High collars! Prom dresses I’d seen online but couldn’t afford to rent! Cocktail dresses way too short for school and dresses with trains behind them!
And then I saw it. The perfect uniform. The one that would help me lie to myself. I tried it on and gasped.
[I/We hoped you would pick that one. I/We thought you might, but I/We said you were too unsure/unanchored/afraid. I/We worked hard on it, though, just for you.]
It had a white section that ended just above my chest with crimson sleeves that just barely covered my shoulders and a diamond cutaway that showed just a tiny bit of my chest. Two glowing gems sat just next to the turtleneck collar, and gold-colored embroidery sectioned off a black cloth asymmetric diamond that skewed to the left above my belly button. The rest of the dress was scarlet with a pleated lower-thigh skirt reminiscent of my school uniform and a belt with a few pouches that fit around my waist. It was bold, aggressive, and elegant. Not cute, and not sexy, but put together. Just like I’d be!
[Accept! What do you have for jackets? Or maybe a cloak? Dress code at school needs the shoulders fully covered.] A red blazer (the cloak was just too awkward to move freely in and the bolero option felt weird); black tights; and white mid-thigh boots with thick soles, tiny heels, and Velcro straps later, the uniform was finished.
[I/We believe that your hair could be changed, as well as your eye color/irises. The transformation sequence would allow for that as well, and it would tie your look together.]
[What’s wrong with brown hair?] I asked, but I was already fantasizing about a straight blonde bob and golden eyes to match the embroidery on my dress. [Don’t answer that, please! Let me play around for a bit.]
[While you do that, I/We have one more mission/quest/task to complete; your Alias/identity. You cannot leave Mme. Baudilaire’s/Dreamstyles/The Outfit Place as Maiden Voyage. It’s simply not allowed/permitted.]
[Okay, that seems…restrictive.] I was starting to get a headache from the way the cat, or whoever was in charge here, communicated. [So you’ll help me figure out my Alias? And can you give me skin now?] The wire-frame cat jumped into my lap while I stared at the mirror. Stroking it almost felt like stroking a normal cat. Almost.
[Yes/Of course to both questions/requests.] The cat’s tails swished at the mirror and it painted my skin on over the wire-frame, freckles and all. [Your status block shows fog, possible light powers and swamp-light references. Perhaps Will-o’-the-Wisp or a derivative of it? ‘Aleya’ was a word for it in India. ‘Hitodama’ is the Japanese word, and it may still be used in the Okinawa bastion city/island/fortress. It means ‘human soul’, though.]
[No, neither of those, but a good idea in theory. What were some animals like Will-o’-the-Wisps?]
[I/We believe Fireflies could serve that purpose if you’re looking to be less mythical/legendary/folkloric.]
[I’m not going to be Magical Girl Firefly! That’s childish and embarrassing.]
[‘Luciole’ is the French translation, which lines up/matches with your French Mana Surge and your mother’s side of your heritage/genes/ancestry, if that’s not too painful/difficult for you.]
I blanked completely for a minute, thinking about Mom. How could the cat know about her? I hadn’t seen her in a decade. Still, the name was fine, even if the memories Mme. Baudilaire/Claire Loewyn/The Seamstress had stirred up hurt. I swallowed, pushing Mom back down. [That’s better. Accept. Status block.]
Basics
Name: Pendleton, Alice (Luciole)
Level: 2
Class: _____
Color: Red
Mana: 60/60
HP: 34/40
Statistics
Str: 3
Agi: 4
Vit: 6
Will: 12
Soul: 9
Points: 0
Sigils: _
Rank: _
Skills
Perk: Fogform
Mana Surge: Feu-Follet
Operator: James (Firefox)
[An early Red? I/We speculated/thought/considered that this could happen if you found the dress/uniform. Clothing triggers emotions, and emotions trigger colors, even if you’re not aware of them/paying attention. Congratulations/Well done, though!] The cat stretched, arching its back and hopping onto the carpet. [And finally, to have a functioning Alias, you’ll need to create/make a transformation sequence.]
[I see.] I danced around for a bit, flushing red in the mirror as I looked at my moves, but eventually I had a workable dance figured out. I couldn’t wait to show Overclock and James! And Sora…
[Hey, shopping has been a lot of fun, but I need to go back now. My friend might still be out there, and I need to save her. Can you let me go now?]
[Mme. Baudilaire’s Boutique/Dreamstyles/The Outfit Place thanks you for your patronage, Luciole/Alice Pendleton. I/We look forward to seeing you soon!] The cat hopped off my lap and I stood up as the wind kicked up, tearing apart the little boutique and leaving just wire-frame me behind. I blinked.
“Oh good, you’re awake, kid. The Lieutenant just stopped by, says he’s got a lead on some survivors outside. I can’t go, my damn shoulder’s too likely to open up again. He wanted to brief me on what I need to know, but you’ll be out there, not me, so you need to hear it.” Overclock looked rough, her eyes bloodshot and hair tangled as she touched my shoulder with her hand.
“It’s okay, James and I will take care of them.” She winced and looked away quickly. I took a deep breath and pulled the blanket off. “I know it’s going to be hard to stay here while we’re out there, but I’ll be okay. I’m ready. I think.”
“Are you certain about that, ‘Luciole’? You’re still in your pajamas.” James suppressed a chuckle and I flushed beet red.
“One second! I have something to show you both!”