Elim Garak (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_tailor_spy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ten_fwd2015-09-13 06:28 pm
the_tailor_spy) wrote in ten_fwd2015-09-13 06:28 pm
Entry tags:
Not precisely Portabello Road, but...(OTA - Garak opens a shop!)
He had spent some time on this. After being assigned quarters - mercifully free of a roommate - the only thing to do was rearrange them to his liking. Easier said than done, certainly. Asking the replicator for anything Cardassian had prompted some impertinent questions from security, so he had made do with paint. Toning down the Federation colours into something more pleasing to the Cardassian eye.
But that had been his quarters. The question remained...what do with the other half? He had almost sighed, inwardly, when the answer came. There really was only one thing. At least he was good at it.
He had partially walled off one side of the quarters halfway with what construction materials he could get from the replicator, and the rest was behind some rather nice red curtains. A little touch of bright theatricality, but since his clientele here would be overwhelmingly human by the look of things, it never hurt to play to their sensibilities. On the bit of wall, well. He had reached into the hidden pouch in his bag and past the disassembled phaser components to bring out the rolled canvas he had carefully put there. Lovingly framed, he hung the art on the bit of wall. Not too obtrusively, really, not even noticeably. But it was there.
For a long time, after that, he had just stared at it. The last piece of Tora Ziyal he had.
But, to work. The other half was beginning to fill with reams of fabric. He'd brought some with him, others were replicated. Still more he was making himself from replicated materials. Hand-made had such a special cachet, after all.
Bit by bit, the tailoring shop was filling. The advertisements he had been putting up around the ship, well. Those would help, too.
He stood, brushing lint from a jacket on display. A simple grey, true, but in a somewhat modern cut. Business-like, but with that hint of...fun.
He really was a very good tailor.
But that had been his quarters. The question remained...what do with the other half? He had almost sighed, inwardly, when the answer came. There really was only one thing. At least he was good at it.
He had partially walled off one side of the quarters halfway with what construction materials he could get from the replicator, and the rest was behind some rather nice red curtains. A little touch of bright theatricality, but since his clientele here would be overwhelmingly human by the look of things, it never hurt to play to their sensibilities. On the bit of wall, well. He had reached into the hidden pouch in his bag and past the disassembled phaser components to bring out the rolled canvas he had carefully put there. Lovingly framed, he hung the art on the bit of wall. Not too obtrusively, really, not even noticeably. But it was there.
For a long time, after that, he had just stared at it. The last piece of Tora Ziyal he had.
But, to work. The other half was beginning to fill with reams of fabric. He'd brought some with him, others were replicated. Still more he was making himself from replicated materials. Hand-made had such a special cachet, after all.
Bit by bit, the tailoring shop was filling. The advertisements he had been putting up around the ship, well. Those would help, too.
He stood, brushing lint from a jacket on display. A simple grey, true, but in a somewhat modern cut. Business-like, but with that hint of...fun.
He really was a very good tailor.
no subject
"It seems you didn't need my help at all," he said easily, leaning against the open doorframe. "I think you have a much better handle on this than I do."
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"Nevertheless Captain...er, Jim, it was sincerely felt, I assure you. And to be honest, I am rather used to displacement. One learns to make the best of it."
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"As such, it strikes me I have nothing to offer in return for your goods. At the same time, I do recall a conversation in which we both lamented the current fashion." He grinned at Garak. "I'm a little reluctant to, ah, adapt to current Starfleet norms. Do you have any advice?"
no subject
"Unexpected experiences are, I suspect, part of our daily routine - I was on a Federation station, after all. And you should give it a try. I'm given to understand your species was once rather superb at it. You could have given the Ferengi lessons."
As for the rest, well, he gestures to a rack of fabrics.
"I have plenty of that, and let us say that I would much prefer the free advertising to leaving you in the lurch, to borrow a human expression. Besides, your greeting was very unexpected and...appreciated."
I'm assuming that other thread is pleasantly ended...
If you have nothing else to add :) I was enjoying it more than enough to keep it going
"I was on a station known as Deep Space Nine. A quite literal crossroads of the galaxy. As a result, 'unpredictable' summed up an average day. To his credit, the Captain pulled as much order as he could from it. Did rather a good job, as far as anyone could in the situation."
He shook his head at the last. "The thing about antiques is that one could also refer to them as classics," he said, taking a good look at Jim's uniform.
"And this was quite the era. Well, if we're going to make changes, let's emphasize classic." He held up his hands, squeezing them into fists.
"Wear it like a bold flag, not something to hide."
He may have ideas.
oh well, in that case...
"No jumpsuits," he says, his right hand slashing his emphasis. "And I never will understand why Starfleet switched division colors." He looks good in green and gold.
no subject
"Goodness me, no. I'm not even sure how they ventilate those...things." He says it with a vehemence that only a very good tailor could hold. "Not even a uniform so much as actively deciding that one never wants to choose their clothing in the morning. No, absolutely not."
He leaves the last comment be, noting it for future reference.
"I was thinking, for a start, a jacket." He gestured to a leather-like material, but very thin. "This is from Aaamazzara. A replicated hide, I'm afraid, but hand-cut and stitched. Note the sharp lines, emphasizing one's height and shoulders."
"I can, of course, hand-dye the fabric to your specifications. The small scaling means that it will feel much like your leather, just significantly lighter on your frame."
I dearly wish I had sketches of Garak's fashionplate Kirk
"Nice," he says. "I'm not particularly invested in the need for a living creature to die for my wardrobe, so I wouldn't worry about that." Also, the temperature regulation on the Enterprise is more than adequate, so a jacket need not be heavy. "One question--what is it, exactly, you think I hope to convey by the change?"
Jim's never been a tall man, or a vain one, though the latter is mitigated by the fact that he's always been naturally easy on the eyes without much effort.
Me too
He said it with a hint of humour, because to be quite honest, he had really little idea what the creature was, nor did he care. It wasn't as if he'd ever had to harvest the hide - and if he did it would have been prudent to only choose creatures he could hunt with a slow stride and a large hammer.
"Well, I couldn't possibly say," he began in answer to his question, "but I would think it would be to convey...boldness. Oh, not recklessness. But a man who knows who he is, which is a far rarer commodity in the universe than many think."
He almost allows himself a smile.
"Besides which, the fabric hangs decently under the arm, see? A light garment that will move easily if, oh, you suddenly needed to wave your arms." Like a punch, being the obvious unspoken message.
"I would also point out that while the hide is light, the molecular bonds are actually incredibly tough. You'd be hard pressed to damage this garment on the errant edge." Some knives will have trouble with it.
He turned, smiling.
"I can of course install the odd internal pouch, too, either under the arms or at the small of the back for oh, what have you."
He's read the stories. He knows the basics of this man, and now he's taken his metaphorical measure. This man would tie the devil's tail in knots if he needed to. A man of action.
whelp I certainly didn't mean for this to be a month later...
"Well," he says finally, tucking his hands behind him and rocking a bit on the balls of his feet, "I've clearly come to the right place." Jim clearly has more reading to do--he is suddenly very interested in the fact that Garak won't say much of anything outright, but has to swaddle everything in such obscurity. He's not even certain he's getting all of what the man's laying down, but it's enough to know that nothing is as it seems. "It would hardly do to give in to any sort of notion that, for example, a man like me cannot keep up with the times." Or be relevant to them, no matter how out of his own element he finds himself to be.
Still worth it :)
"It is my experience," he replies, making a few notations on a piece of paper, "that some beings shape the times to them."
A piece of advice, and for once clearly given. The only thing you can do with a fire-eater like a Kirk - the Kirk - is to give them their head and see what they achieve. The worst thing to do is chain them, especially to a desk.
"The expression is, I believe, 'carpe diem'? Still, for the moment we can at least get you some choices in attire. If you are satisfied, I can be ready in, oh, make it three days."
<3
Still, he cannot deny that he very much itches to take control of his destiny, here.
"I'll take that under consideration," he says dryly. "And three days is fine. I'm confident in your abilities, Mr. Garak. I do not think you would dare risk your reputation by any aesthetic disservice."
no subject
He smiled, briefly.
"Three days it is."
no subject
"I'll hold you to that. Having to look at it, that is. I haven't forgotten our rain check. Until then."
Well, well. There was precious little to do on this ship, as a mere passenger. Intriguing conversation was one of the only outlets Jim had for his restless imagination, and he was eager to ensure there was more in future. With a wave, Jim stepped out, no more certain about who Garak was than before.