19th Century Seamstress

Materialism runs rampant

Eloise walked forward through snow that reached almost up to her ankles, her toes numb from the cold. She stopped by a small stall to check out the merchandise.

The stallkeeper, an elderly lady, was dozing off on a soft Rococo-style armchair. Her graying hair was wrapped in a red scarf, and a thick orange-patterned wool blanket covered her lap. Her feet rested on a smoking stove, and she held a white cat in her arms.

When the cat spotted a potential customer, it began meowing, waking the stallkeeper. She rubbed her eyes and glanced down the aisle.

There stood a young girl, clean-featured and dressed plainly. Despite layers of clothing beneath her outer skirt, it was clear she was rather thin. Her eyes, reflecting the snow's brightness, were fixed on some warm women's hats displayed on the stall.

"Probably just another poor but vain young girl," the stallkeeper thought, used to girls like this. She yawned and said, "Those are fine goods from France. A dollar each, no bargaining."

Eloise indeed had her eyes on those lovely secondhand hats. They were made with woven straw cores, covered in high-quality velvet or suede fabric, decorated with silk ribbons and hand-sewn lace trims, adorned with dyed artificial flowers—exquisitely delicate and unmistakably the elegant remnants of wealthy women. They were extravagant, but equally beautiful, almost dishearteningly so.

Resolutely, Eloise looked away and instead picked up two unadorned bonnet-style straw hats. These hats, resembling later baby bonnets, could cover the ears and had a brim for shielding against snow. But unlike warm hats, they weren’t very insulating, so they didn’t fetch much.

After checking for any major damage, she selected two thin, knitted wool scarves and a square handkerchief Louise needed. These items were flawed in many ways, so the prices were low.

The stallkeeper glanced at her, a little surprised that such a young girl could resist the temptation of the pretty hats. "You sure that’s all you want? I offer layaway plans, you know. You could pay twenty-five cents a week, and in a month, this warm hat could be yours."

Eloise shook her head firmly. In her previous life, she might have fallen into this type of debt trap, but she wouldn’t let that happen now.

"Let’s settle the bill. Two straw hats, two scarves, two handkerchiefs."

She thought she could buy some extra materials and make some adjustments at home.

Disappointed, the stallkeeper mumbled to herself. Normally, when she offered such plans, young girls couldn’t resist. They’d get a hat today, shoes tomorrow, then a dress the day after, and before they knew it, they’d be so deeply in debt they’d have to work it off in unpleasant ways.

Eloise narrowed her eyes. Maybe this was how the previous “her” had been misled. She did have a desire for beautiful things, but not at that cost.

The stallkeeper grudgingly calculated the price. “That’ll be sixty-nine cents.”

Eloise, feigning hesitation, replied, "I only have sixty cents on me." She pulled out six ten-cent coins, putting on a look of distress.

The stallkeeper hesitated but, with the heavy snow and lack of customers, took the sixty cents and grumbled, "Next time, no more discounts."

Eloise swiftly left with her purchases, then found another stall selling secondhand fabric, where she bought a few yards of plain cloth, some cotton thread, and leather cord. She spotted a worn, life-size female mannequin with a wooden base and brass fittings—an essential tool for tailoring, priced at two or three dollars, but too expensive for her now.

After finishing her shopping, she wrapped everything in cloth and made her way home. Thinking about what she still needed—a mannequin, sewing machine, large scissors, iron, measuring tape, curved brass ruler, and numerous other supplies—she wondered how long it would take her to afford everything.

Clearly, she needed to save up, leave her current hotel job, and find work in a tailor’s shop. Only then could she learn to use proper tools and improve her skills to become a real seamstress.

When Eloise reached home, Thomas and Bella had already eaten lunch and gone out to see the Christmas decorations on the shop windows. In twenty days, it would be New Year’s, and Christmas decorations were already hanging under the eaves. Today, however, was the day the city squares would begin decorating Christmas trees with ornaments and lights.

Alone at home, Eloise first piled her secondhand purchases into a tub, washing away the dirt with hot water and hanging them on the wire by the window to dry. She then organized her materials and made a task list.

Her first task was to work on the dress she’d promised to alter for Amy. Without a mannequin, she’d start by drafting a pattern on plain cloth based on Amy’s measurements. She cut out the front and back panels and aligned the darts, then roughly stitched the panels together to check for fit, planning to make adjustments if needed.

For her newly bought hats and scarves, she planned to mend any holes and make them warmer by adding inner linings. She would save these tasks for later, after the hats had dried.

Without even stopping for a drink of water, Eloise sharpened her aunt’s scissors with a stone until they cut crisply through fabric. Then, recalling her design process from memory, she began cutting out the plain fabric for Amy’s dress.

Outside, the evening sky grew darker, and inside, Eloise didn’t even check if the stove still had fire. She sat, shoes off, tucking her cold feet under her blanket while her hands tirelessly worked the needle and scissors. She stayed like this for hours until a loud knocking at the door startled her.

Eloise’s eyes were sore from focusing for so long. She looked out the window; it was already dark, and the wind howled outside, snow pelting against the glass.

It was her aunt, Louise, Thomas, and Bella returning from work, all bundled up against the cold. “Goodness, why is it so cold in here, Eloise? Weren’t you using the stove?”

Louise entered, rubbing her hands. Noticing the half-finished clothes on Eloise’s bed, she knew Eloise had likely been so busy that she hadn’t even noticed the cold.

Thomas and Bella volunteered to light the fire, and Eloise scratched her head sheepishly. “Amy asked me to make her a dress, and I got so caught up that I forgot about the time.”

Louise handed Eloise two old underskirts her coworker had given her. “She wants these converted into long gloves, with embroidery and lace trim. I’ve already negotiated the price—seventy-five cents for the job.”

The higher-than-expected payment delighted Eloise. She took the skirts and carefully stored the money, preparing to ask Louise for specific instructions on the embroidery when her aunt and Louise exchanged uneasy looks. Louise pulled out a tightly wrapped bundle.

This package was conspicuously wrapped in crumpled paper, the kind used for flour sacks, hinting it was smuggled out.

Eloise stopped asking questions, looking at her aunt in confusion.

Louise’s mother, visibly shaken, asked if Eloise was busy. Her tone lacked its usual cheerfulness, and Eloise knew something was wrong.

“No, not really. What’s going on, Auntie?”

Louise took the package, explaining, "Today, while washing laundry, my mother accidentally damaged a guest’s shirt from the ‘Opal’ suite. Look here.”

Eloise’s heart sank as she unwrapped the bundle. Inside was a straight-collar shirt of high-quality English fabric—smooth, without knots or starch, breathable and ideal for wear under formal clothing. Its cost would surely amount to several months of her aunt’s salary.

Eloise spread out the shirt, noting the damage on the shoulder—frayed stitching rather than torn fabric, which she could fix. She felt a wave of relief.

“No problem. I can mend it; they won’t even be able to tell.”

Louise exhaled in relief, and her mother was reassured.

Once alone, Eloise set to work on the shirt, meticulously following the original stitching pattern under the gaslight until she finished. Her aunt’s face lit up with relief after inspecting the flawless repair.

At dinner, her aunt quietly admitted, “I’ll have to leave this job eventually, I can’t go on like this.”

But Louise, still unsure, sighed, “Where else would we work if not here?”

After a moment, Eloise spoke, “Auntie, you cook wonderfully. Why not open a small food stall?”

This sparked a new conversation among them, as Eloise described her plan: saving up through side jobs, taking small steps to eventually run a business of their own.