• The smooth deep green silk of the dress shines in the sunlight filtering in through the large open windows. The light brings with it a myriad of sounds and smells that had once overwhelmed the young woman kneeling in the centre of the room. The sound of a small bird, momentarily perched on the newly painted windowsill, the sound of the crowd, shopping on a Saturday afternoon, the horses’ hooves stamping impatiently on the cobblestones, and the unmistakable smells that accompany horses and crowds. The light touches the rolls of fabric piled on shelves along one wall, blazing with colour. It shines off the recently purchased sewing machine sitting on its own table, its place of honour. The light flashes brilliantly in the corner, reflecting off the three full length mirrors placed there, with the small stool in the centre. It catches the young woman’s hair, revealing the auburn highlights hidden deep in the dark brown, pinned in place. The light gleams off the pin in her hand as she lifts it up, then sinks it deep into the silk in front of her, creating a neat hem. Her own dress is much simpler, mid blue cotton, long sleeves, high neck, skirt ending just before scuffed black boots. No lace, no bows, just three plain blue buttons up the front. The silk dress will belong to a Lady once she is finished. She leans back on her heels to appraise her work, humming softly to herself, then nods in satisfaction and stands, stretching her arms above her head, disturbing the dust motes that hang in the shaft of light slanting across the room.