The girls had been handwavily notified to meet at Pixie Dust (with a handy map attachment included for anyone who might be too new to know where it was) for today's meeting. Because it would be bad to have a meeting and forget to tell people where
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She looked down at her own turn of the century dress and suddenly felt quite plain. She shook off the feeling quickly, however, and went back to marveling at the various dresses. She was almost feeling overwhelmed by it all.
And some of the dresses looked awfully short.
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So. Strutting for the mirror, then. Because she was productive.
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She took a few tentative steps without any disaster, and then walked around the store with them on until she stopped thinking about them so much. When she stopped and looked down, they were still on. "Okay," she said, relieved, and again to no one in particular. She'd spent a lot of time alone, okay? "Okay, I think this is going to work...except these are boring." So she took them off, went back to the shoe display to put them back on the shelf, and started looking for something more to her taste.
She found, in the clearance section and marked with prices even her 1958 sensibilities could stomach, not one but three ( ... )
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Really.
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After all, she wore leather and a top that defies physics her wrap every day. Worked well enough for her, and the girls were old enough to decide how much skin they felt comfortable showing.
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