Cherished

Valentine Xuelan Is Twenty:

Early on a Saturday morning, a beautiful young woman parked her car on a side street of Anthracite's downtown district and got out, heading for the main street. She was tall and had long black hair, which she wore loose down her back.

Her clothes were rather Bohemian, so they were casual and comfortable yet beautiful and flowing at the same time. It was a style much favored by female college students, although not all of them had the height and natural beauty to carry it off like Valentine Xuelan Townsend.

She stopped at a particular townhouse and went up the steps into a shop that advertised itself as 'Cherished: Quality Vintage Fashion'. As it was a couple of hours before most shops opened, she used her key to get in. Once inside, she called out "Evelyn?"

"In the back," the shop owner called. "I'm so glad you could come in early, I'm afraid I overdid it!"

"I never say no to more hours," Valentine replied as she went to the back, shedding her suede jacket and her purse behind the counter. She had worked at Cherished since she started college. Although she could have worked at the Rainbow Lodge, she had wanted the experience of both working for someone who wasn't related to her and dealing with the general public.

As the sign on the front window said, Cherished sold vintage clothing, items which were at least twenty years or more, with the exception of some new items like accessories. The downstairs had ordinary but good vintage garments, but the upstairs was anything but ordinary.

The upstairs had two rooms: the New With Tags room, for items which had never been worn, and the Designers' Vault, for very high-end vintage fashion. Stylists for period movies and TV shows often came to Cherished to find authentic clothes for the main characters. These two rooms were not open to just anyone who walked in off the street; they had to be known to the owner as serious fashion devotees, professional stylists, and the like.

They also had to be able to afford two thousand dollars for an authentic mint condition 1966 Pierre Balmain Mod style cocktail dress, or five thousand for a 1951 Christian Dior evening coat in pale pink satin sewn with diamantes and pearls.

As expensive as Cherished's clothes could be, they were still less expensive than a similar modern day haute couture item, and they were usually of better quality, since in the old days, designers did not cut corners on special details or put cheap linings in their clothes.

The only problem was restocking the store, because items like that had to be found, not ordered. Therefore, Evelyn went to many estate sales across the country to find stock for her store.

Val was not surprised to find the back room was overflowing with boxes and full garment racks from Evelyn's latest buying trip. "Where do you want me to start?" she asked.

"With that rack there," Evelyn pointed. She was a slightly faded blonde woman with beautifully curled hair.

"All right," Valentine went to work. Each garment had to be inspected for damage and classified by where it would go.

Ordinary items which had been worn and weren't designer fashion went downstairs, as did designer items with visible wear. If a garment was damaged, such as rips or tears, if it were missing buttons or needed a new lining, it went in a pile for their seamstress to mend. If it were stained or smelled of mothballs or body odor, it went to their cleaner's.

The two women worked together in companionable silence for quite a while. "So what does your next semester look like?" Evelyn asked.

"Atmospheric Thermodynamics," Valentine replied happily. "Fundamentals of Atmospheric Science. Weather Communications I, some statistics course or other, I haven't made up my mind which yet, and a General Education elective. I was thinking I might take an art course. There's a cross-listed course on Meteorology and Art. Basically you learn how to paint and draw weather."

Evelyn shook her head. "You and weather. Do you eat, sleep and breathe it?" she teased gently.

"Pretty much. I'm a weather geek, what can I say? Wintery weather is my preference. Anyway, as soon as I know the hours, I'll draw up my schedule." Valentine turned an evening gown inside out and inspected the lining.

"Thanks. Say, would you mind trying this on for me?" Evelyn held up a jacket.

It was not an unusual request. Some garments only showed flaws or looked good when worn, and Valentine could wear practically anything, as long as it wasn't intended for a very busty woman.

What was unusual was the jacket itself. It was an antique Chinese jacket in yellow-green damask, like the first leaves on a weeping willow in spring. The sleeves had loose honeycomb pleats, the lining was cornflower blue, and it had incredible flower and phoenix embroidery all down the front and the bottom in shades of blue and white, touched here and there with mauve, red and peach.

"Of course!" Valentine slipped into the jacket and gathered up her hair to get it out of the way, winding it up on her head and securing it with a couple of pencils in lieu of hair sticks. Then she held out her arms and turned around to show off all sides of the jacket.

"Beautiful!" Evelyn said. "You look like you stepped out of a historical movie. The young Li Gong, right here in my stockroom."

Valentine laughed. "More like The Invisible Girl," she said, taking the jacket off and handing it back. "You know, I don't even get cat-called on the street? Not that I want to, it's just…Anyway, it is a beautiful jacket. What price are you going to put on it?"

"It's entirely silk, hand embroidered, perfect condition—I'd say it was early 20th century—exquisite—Two thousand five hundred dollars." Evelyn said.

"Ouch!" Valentine exclaimed. "Well, that will set someone back."

"But not you? Even with the employee discount?" Since wearing vintage clothes was the best advertisement for the shop, Evelyn offered very generous discounts for her employees and sometimes even let them borrow special occasion items.

"No…"

"It really suited you, though," Evelyn was serious. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything Asian, not since you started working here."

"I—tend to avoid Chinese and Asian styles," Valentine went back to the evening gown she was checking.

"Is there a reason why? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, it's just idle curiosity on my part."

"I don't mind telling, since you're a friend, but this might not be very coherent," Valentine tried to form her thoughts and feelings into words.

"I grew up with a stepsister who made racist taunts at me a lot… A guy in a sushi restaurant once grabbed my arm as I was on my way to the ladies' room, and demanded more saki, even though I didn't work there. He wrenched my wrist, and I had to break his nose to get him to let go of me… A professor once made a comment about me, in my hearing. He said, 'These Asians do work very hard'."

"I'm sorry," Evelyn said. "I didn't know."

"I don't blame you. I'm just trying to articulate it, for myself as well as you. Do you remember the comedian Richard Pryor? He died a while ago."

"I remember him. He was African American, and rather profane in his language." Evelyn nodded.

"I saw an old performance of his once online. He went to Kenya, and it was a revelation to him. He said that when he was there, he was surrounded by people of color, just going about their business—but none of them were N-words. They were just people. That isn't exactly how he put it, I'm paraphrasing what he said, but it applies to me, too.

"Here, in America, I am despised, I am objectified, sometimes I am idealized—and wearing that jacket here would just make me more so. Less than a person, more than a robot. Not quite human. Never quite belonging.

"Maybe some day I'll go to China or somewhere else in Asia, where I can wear a beautiful jacket like that and just be another girl. But until then…" Valentine shrugged.

"Well, on that note, I think I need a bottle of water," Evelyn said. "I think you need one too. I can't believe we've been sorting for two hours already. Can you open up the shop? I'll get the water."