FIC : toilette
[Title:] Toilette
[Setting:] AU. Modern day.
[Character(s):] Mireille
[Summary:] In steps, up and down the ladder.
She rarely shuts the bathroom door, unless it’s to shut him off. Shut herself up. Away.
1. TOILET
Physically, it’s one of the most basic human processes, excretion of waste matter and excess water. Like the ingestion of nutrients and liquid. The release of reproductive cells and hormones. Psychologically, the first holds less conscious impact than the following - is something she pays less, not little mind. Jean Louis rarely forgets to put down the toilet seat, exempting her from a further focus on the ritual itself. Reducing it to an intermission, in between sleeping and waking up. Being awake and going to sleep. Again. At this stage, all sounds are muted. The process proceeding to run its course.
2. BATH
It’s the closest she comes to masturbation, this half hour of hot water. How she soaps her hands, first - then, applies the thick (white) foam with its scent of freshness rather than perfume to her arms. From the shoulder down. To her legs, from the ankle up. Her front; breasts, stomach, hint of curls. The feeling of satisfaction has nothing to do with vanity. Indeed, she indulges, but not for the sake of indulgence alone. Another aspect of humanity and one she shan’t deny. Herself. Her fondness for, despite it not being a strict necessity. Only a private luxury. Pleasure.
3. SHAVING
Waxing renders daily shaving entirely superfluous, reduces it to a monthly routine whose main concern is the maintenance of her pubic hair; the proper length. Softness and transition. To say it’s for Jean Louis’ sake mainly would be a statement in between truth and lie. Her reasons are hygienic, in recognition of both their… experiences. They both sport dark hair, after all - thick and luxurious, their habits aligned with the implications. That the attention is crucial. That they grant it in full acknowledgement, in respect of their private sphere. Individual and shared. Intimacy being the defining factor. Their common denominator.
4. HAIR DRYING
Few modern women grow their hair long in the manner Mireille has done. Has been prompted to do by Mother. She doesn’t take pride in it as much as she incorporates it into her private image. What she sees in the mirror at moments like now, the brush running through a waterfall of brown, tresses dark from moisture. Drying at the slowest of paces, because she never makes use of the blow dryer until it’s due; the latter stage of the process. Washing it comprises the first, styling the last and drying it bridges the two. Soft between her fingers.
5. LOTION
Every Yves Saint-Laurent perfume comes with a concomitant lotion, corresponding in fragrance. If not in texture. Lotion is thicker, of course; milky in an entirely suggestive fashion, but when she massages it into her skin, her hands leave a trail of scent in their wake. Parisienne. À l’Extreme. Belle de Opium. Usually she prefers unscented crèmes for her feet and legs - exposed to the elements, isn’t that so? Thus, the YSL fragrances cling to her arms, mainly. To her hands at the very end, applied as a final touch to the softer lines making up the rest of her. Forefront.
6. UNDERWEAR
Lingerie is intimate only insofar one considers which parts of the body it’s covering. Beyond that, the multitudes of fabric, cuts and colours residing in her closet have already been on display, to Jean Louis in private; to the public in every Victoria’s Secret catalogue on the marked. She prefers to restrict her display of lace - not to a minimum, but within legible lines of demarcation. Her knickers are wide rather than varied in comparison, because she’s long since declined the g-sting trend. She fastens her bra, with careful attention to arrangement. Bottom layers are foundation, everything else on top.
7. DRESS
Her wardrobe's vast. Regardless of appearances, she does buy brands besides YSL. Picks out individual Armani pieces - Giorgio and Emporio alike. The styles of the French and Italian houses blend poorly, but there are times when they need to match, Jean Louis and her. Because the public doesn't look beyond thick layers of fabric. Today it's one such dress, dark grey with belt and buckles. It’s Friday; they'll be having dinner later. At Chiggeri. Her high heels are Italian, too - Valentino. Yet, her jewellery will still curve into the calla lily found in YSL's summer collection. She never wears Gucci.
8. MAKE-UP
A great percentage of her make-up falls within a palette of red. If she were to follow the associative trail of thought, the relation between her preference for this one colour and her preference for Jean Louis would seem to be dimensional, wouldn’t it? Nevertheless, she continues to apply rouge to her cheeks, add a crimson hue to her lips and the value of ruby to her eyes. In spite, perhaps. Her complexion is complimented by the nuances, like her marriage is divided into layers. Every shade stemming from the most basic of reds, delving deeper for every step down.
9. HAIR STYLING
Styling her hair requires patience. Several factors must be taken into account - what products she’s chosen for the occasion, what main feature she wishes to display and the means necessary. To achieve the effects out of which the desired appearance is created. A piece of art in its own right, constructed out of combs, pins and the imitation of kanzashi on the night when they received Prime Minister Noda at the embassy. She harbours a fondness for pearls, doesn’t she? The shimmer of brown and creamy white. Silver. Black. Currently, the glass beads carefully incorporated don’t resemble mother-of-pearl, but transparency.
In the end, she washes her hands. Not off him, but certainly not off herself. Either.