The Tailor plucked the little square of paper off the desk, examining it as their classmate spoke. They didn't pretend to know much about bugs, much less those from the surface, but the illustration was detailed, the work of someone who cared a lot about the subject in question. Another one from the Surface, then.
"Regarding beetles, I can't say I know much about them, though you'll find the phosfo.... phosferesnt..." they tried not to scowl, "the glow beetles down here are exceptionally common. I'm not overly fond myself, but I've seen their wing cases used for the more impressive gowns they would wear at court." It was very like them, to point subject back to how it would relate to their work.
They examined the pin their companion fiddled with from the corner of their eye, notched brow raising. "As for being a craftsman... It's long hours making work that stands out while needing to make it look effortless. It's--" they thought for a moment, staring hard at the sketch, before handing it back. "On the one hand, I think I'd compare it to learning a language. Style is important, especially in London. Rules of etiquette that have changed little by little over the years, and if you break those rules it draws attention, good or bad. On the other hand, the labor itself is about construction, and there's a satisfaction I find when the pieces all fit together to make one cohesive article. I'm not sure how much you know about the work that goes into your clothes."
This was to say nothing about what cuts of fashion could mean, what they could imply about the age of the wearer or the company they kept or their status in society--but the Tailor was trying to be concise. Trying, anyway.
"It's culture. Right now I'm stuck with convention as to what I make, but I'd like to shape culture myself. Anachronism is, I think, fascinating. I'm trying to take it as part of my moniker. An aspiring Anachronistic Tailor."
They blinked. When had they started to stare into the middle distance? They didn't shake their head to clear it, but it was a near thing.
"And yourself? What do you call yourself, in company?"
Re: Before Class
"Regarding beetles, I can't say I know much about them, though you'll find the phosfo.... phosferesnt..." they tried not to scowl, "the glow beetles down here are exceptionally common. I'm not overly fond myself, but I've seen their wing cases used for the more impressive gowns they would wear at court." It was very like them, to point subject back to how it would relate to their work.
They examined the pin their companion fiddled with from the corner of their eye, notched brow raising. "As for being a craftsman... It's long hours making work that stands out while needing to make it look effortless. It's--" they thought for a moment, staring hard at the sketch, before handing it back. "On the one hand, I think I'd compare it to learning a language. Style is important, especially in London. Rules of etiquette that have changed little by little over the years, and if you break those rules it draws attention, good or bad. On the other hand, the labor itself is about construction, and there's a satisfaction I find when the pieces all fit together to make one cohesive article. I'm not sure how much you know about the work that goes into your clothes."
This was to say nothing about what cuts of fashion could mean, what they could imply about the age of the wearer or the company they kept or their status in society--but the Tailor was trying to be concise. Trying, anyway.
"It's culture. Right now I'm stuck with convention as to what I make, but I'd like to shape culture myself. Anachronism is, I think, fascinating. I'm trying to take it as part of my moniker. An aspiring Anachronistic Tailor."
They blinked. When had they started to stare into the middle distance? They didn't shake their head to clear it, but it was a near thing.
"And yourself? What do you call yourself, in company?"