multiversallogs | 003 | OPEN. red lipstick on the end of a cigarette.

Who: Hasibe Ozcelik, and OPEN.
What: A show premieres at The Vault.
Where: The Vault.
When: Evening til the wee hours of the morning.
Notes: I will set up sections in the comments for people to hang out.
Warnings: WELL IT'S AN ADULT CLUB, SO.

The show starts at nine o'clock, and the bar is full pretty quickly thereafter, but the variety in the club is pretty striking. Xenians in their best suits, non-Xenians in leather and ripped fishnets, everything in between. There doesn't seem to be a lot of cultural divide here between human and not, even given recent issues. Hasibe makes good on her promise to have members of her cohort given seating preference, as she's sweet-talked the cocktail dress-clad hostesses, and the bartenders (in their vague approximations of suits with very open shirts) are aware that she's invited a lot of heavy drinkers. ...she just assumes people in her cohort want to drink--they've been kidnapped to a strange city with many new things to offer, so why wouldn't they?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Penelope leans towards Ilde, in that conspiratorial friendly-at-the-bar sort of way.

"I'm not wearing any pants," she says, clearly not feeling any self-consciousness, since she has to speak up quite a bit over the noisy crowd at the bar. "I thought the wrong idea was generally the right way to go when you're at a place like this."

Ilde bumps her hip against Penelope's, as if to indicate that she has in fact noticed the distinct lack of trousers going on in that general area. The area of Penelope's arse.

"That's true." When she turns slightly for the sake of conversation (it doesn't matter how quiet it is, just as long as she can see), it becomes evident that the gleam on her isn't a trick of the light; the light catches there, mother of pearl through the illusion that's much thinner than usual. This just seems like the right place to play with that. "I don't think I've been to a place like this before, quite."

"Me neither," she shrugs. "Despite my youth and relative coolness, clubs aren't usually my thing. I like bars because I run into more guys that I know I won't want to have sex with more than once."

Penelope clinks her glass with Ilde's, in a show of solidarity. She saw that little glimmer, but it could easily have been reflected sparkle from any of the myriad shiny objects twinkling around the club. Or Penelope could be hallucinating. God only knows what they make alcohol out of in this crazy-ass city.

"When I was fifteen, sixteen, there were a couple of nightclubs that I could get into--" that she should not have been able to go to, still baby-faced at nearly twenty-two and by the nature of what she is probably always will be (in fairness, at sixteen her skin didn't sparkle), "--but they weren't as explicit."

She sounds as though she thinks this was a design flaw on their part, clinking her glass against Penelope's.

Penelope hums in an affirmative, nodding slightly, an affected furrow crossing her brow momentarily. "The dancing girls I'm used to are usually drunk chicks trying to attract a mate by stumbling onto the dance floor and presenting like a mandrill. This is slightly more appealing, gotta say, I mean especially since I made the costumes. Sparkly as fuck, right?"

She says that, as if it's a good thing that she has done that should be applauded. Like an achievement.

Ilde isn't quite sober enough to immediately place what a mandrill even is, and thus she's fleetingly sidetracked by trying to visualize something with no real frame of reference. Ostriches quickly become involved, and are as quickly discarded in favour of sparkly costuming--

"Those were stunning," she enthuses, cheerfully. "I liked Hasi's, that was you--?"

"Oh yeah, the silver with the dangly bits, yeah. Stroke of genius on my part. I'm not used to like, artfully showing parts instead of the other way around, but I think it was a success in the end, thanks."

In case you hadn't noticed, Penelope is not great at accepting compliments.

"Lingerie isn't usually my thing, but I could make you something, if you wanted. I mean, now that I know I don't suck at it or anything."

"I'd love that-- I like lace? A lot." People are never really terribly surprised about how fussy Ilde is about her clothing, for some reason; she likes Penelope's designs, likes having pieces made for her, and given the opportunity to add lingerie to what's available there, well, she'll happily take it. "Garters and that kind of thing, like this-"

It may not be strictly necessary to hitch her dress so Penelope can see the candy-pink lingerie she's wearing underneath it, specifically the garter at the top of her (seamed) stockings, but if she is going to do something like that in public, this seems like the right place for it.

(Nice tattoo.)

Hmmm. Penelope has the ~artist's eye~, so she sees absolutely nothing wrong with Ilde hitching up her skirt right there. In fact, she's so oblivious to the implications of this that she actually hops off her bar stool and squats down to get a closer look. Yeah. That's dedication.

"I think I've got some stuff I could work with. Color thoughts, styles you won't wear, anything like that?" It's straight into Business Mode. The look on her face changes like night to day.

Dedication, or casual entertainment of any patrons that way inclined. Ilde, ever obliging, raises the hem higher and shifts so Penelope can see how the garter-belt is sitting on her waist.

"Black is good- cream and gold, sometimes something bright to pop, like this? The vintage feel, I like the high-waists and that shape, with the lace. A bodysuit, something I can mix and match casually like that? Tap pants and that across your arse cut- oh, I really like the long-line bras?" With her free hand, she gestures from her breasts down her rib-cage, illustratively. "I like silk a lot, and the nice diaphanous slips."

"Yeah, I like the like, chiffon and silk type. Draping, elegant, classic, tasteful but modern silhouettes. I think I could do that, yeah. I've still got your measurements so I could work on that right away if you want."

Penelope suddenly needs a cigarette. Like, strongly. It is hard to be a designer and not be smoking. Why isn't she smoking. Argh.

Ilde flicks one of her garter-straps before she lets her dress fall back into place, boosting back onto the barstool and crossing her knees with a smile that's eased into place with the help of the brandy in her cocktail. "That sounds perfect. And- yes, feminine but not fussy."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll have something for you by next week."

She gets to her feet, hops back on her barstool, and it's like it never happened. Her body language shifts back to her usual fashionably-jaded, disaffected Hot Young Bitch default, and she sips at her drink and raises it at Ilde.

"To more business for me. And Hasi's bar, I guess. Me, though."

003 | OPEN. red lipstick on the end of a cigarette.

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