m|v-l’e -NovelFull.net
March 11th, 5 p.m.
At the newly decorated Tuileries Palace, adorned with countless ribbons, oil paintings, and billboards, the whole of Europe is now watching as Paris Fashion Week is about to unfold.
The Tuileries Palace is a castle-like structure, its lofty halls surrounding a vast central square. Its initial design served as a last bastion for the King in times of emergency, the very square where troops were marshaled.
Now, however, this parade ground was filled with international visitors who had come for Fashion Week, with thousands in attendance.
Additionally, a considerable number of guests who were reluctant to purchase expensive seats stood in the gaps between the square and the buildings, craning their necks curiously towards the giant T-stage to the east. Of course, even standing-room tickets cost 6 livres.
Thanks to Joseph’s widespread international advertising campaign, slogans like “Paris Fashion Week, just for those who truly understand fashion,” “Hand in hand with your loved one, experience the most romantic Paris,” and “Does your yearning breeze still blow to Paris Fashion Week?” had already bombarded the ears of the nobility from every country.
Under such grandiose publicity, Paris Fashion Week remarkably became the focal point of heated discussion in Europe’s nobility circles. Unless one genuinely could not afford the trip to Paris, no one wanted to miss this event—it would be too embarrassing to face those who had experienced it.
Consequently, at least hundreds of thousands of visitors had come to attend Paris Fashion Week!
Although the tickets for the opening ceremony were pricey, they were sold out a month in advance. Nobles who later wished to secure a seat had to pay four to five times the price, suffering the extortion of scalpers.
At that moment, on the luxury seats located on the eastern side of the Tuileries Palace square—those “gold” seats near the T-stage, which officially cost 80 livres each—a middle-aged English gentleman dressed in a black velvet coat, with sagging eye bags and ears that stuck out, was gaping at the resplendent Tuileries Palace, unable to contain his exclamations:
“When I first read in the newspaper about ‘experiencing your royal life at the Tuileries Palace,’ I thought it was just French bluster, but they’ve actually done quite a good job here.”
Next to him, a young man who had been holding a notebook and pen the whole time nodded and smiled:
“Mr. Walsh, in fact, the Tuileries Palace was once a royal residence of the French people.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Alvin,” Mr. Walsh responded with surprise and appreciation, “No wonder it’s so luxurious! It seems my money was well spent.”
His wife laughed and said:
“Dear, I remember you saying on the ship coming here that the French are only good at fancy foods and clothes and such.”
“Well, I must admit, their palaces are not too shabby either.”
Just then, melodious music rose in the air, and Chancellor Barongden, dressed in the opulent attire of the Court of Versailles, took the stage to deliver a very lengthy and lyrical opening speech.
Following him, Queen Mary, dressed in a dazzling white ensemble with her hair coiffed a full foot and a half high, made her entrance, flanked by attendants and maids. Brilliant fireworks burst forth in the sky.
The French guards and officials around immediately bowed in homage, while the tourists, caught by surprise at the presence of the Queen of France—a personification of European fashion and luxury—hurriedly rose to their feet, courteously nodding in respect.
The atmosphere at the venue instantly peaked.
Queen Mary smiled and gestured to the crowd, and then began her speech, following the script her son had written:
“Welcome to Paris, the city of fashion and romance, to partake in the largest fashion festival in all of Europe…”
Walsh did not understand French and was only hoping that the “five daily fashion shows, with a hundred beauties passionately presenting” mentioned in the newspaper would start soon.
Luckily, Queen Mary did not keep him waiting too long. After concluding with “Please enjoy this lovely week,” she turned and returned to her room on the third floor of the Tuileries Palace, facing the T-stage.
Next, a famous singer presented a song, and then the highlight of Fashion Week officially began.
To the sound of lively background music, three tall and beautiful models, dressed in the latest seasonal luxurious long dresses, sashayed out from the end of the T-stage.
At that moment, every spectator was stunned.
This was completely different from any fashion presentation they had seen before!
It wasn’t just about flaunting clothing on racks or gaining attention through allure—these models exuded an elegant and noble demeanor with every motion they made, their expressions cool and natural, as if they were three confident young noblewomen casually passing by.
The fashion they wore also became a reflection of their temperaments, full of individuality.
At the same time, on two display panels over four meters high on either side of the T-stage, there appeared information about the designers of the dresses worn by the models, their design concepts, features, and prices.
Fashion Week staff meandered politely among the guests, reminding them that should they take a fancy to any of the fashions being showcased, they could place an order at any time.
This form of fashion show and sales that would become commonplace in later times was the most creative and trendy model in the 18th century.
Mrs. Walsh’s eyes were immediately drawn to a light green long dress worn by the model on the left, and she glanced at the price on the display panel—220 livres.
She lowered her head to covertly calculate the price in British Pounds, ensuring her husband would have no objections, and when she looked up again with a charming smile, she took Mr. Walsh’s arm and whispered, “Dear, what do you think of that green dress?”