While Gladrags may not have been the most glamorous location to buy new odds and ends, Ophelia had always believed that a well-rounded young lady should remain fully apprised of all of her resources. Her resources, in this case, being the full gamit of tailors, seamstresses, dress shops, and fabric shops available to her. One never could tell when there might be just the thing at one place that would not be available anywhere else, and while a less creative and less enterprising young lady might have overlooked it, Ophelia had always seen the potential behind any garment or accessory.
Gladrags was, of course, part of her rotation on her weekly shopping trips — which she had not been deprived of, despite of recent events. She was able to argue with Armando quite persuasively that any abrupt change in her activities would look too suspicious, particularly with the 'mystery' of the Chief Warlock's whereabouts still alive in the papers, and he had capitulated to her whims. That was usually how their arguments went, of course, unless she was hysterical.
The shop had offered her nothing of any particular value, though there was a robe that she might be able to alter from a riding dress into a Quidditch dress for the tournament next month, should nothing better arise. She had no idea what Quidditch dresses were meant to look like, if such a thing had ever even existed at all — perhaps the sorts of people who might be in need of Quidditch dresses were also the sorts who would do something absurd like wear trousers. It was entirely possible that she was breaking new ground, but if that was the case she intended to set a rather stylish precedent all the same.
She was on her way out of the shop when she nearly walked right in to a young boy who had stopped at the window — Gladrags was not, in her opinion, the sort of store to inspire awe, and so she had hardly been expecting someone to stop there. She glanced at the glass, curious as to what held his attention so thoroughly, and couldn't help but laugh at the image presented to her.
"I don't think it's quite your size," she teased lightly.
Gladrags was, of course, part of her rotation on her weekly shopping trips — which she had not been deprived of, despite of recent events. She was able to argue with Armando quite persuasively that any abrupt change in her activities would look too suspicious, particularly with the 'mystery' of the Chief Warlock's whereabouts still alive in the papers, and he had capitulated to her whims. That was usually how their arguments went, of course, unless she was hysterical.
The shop had offered her nothing of any particular value, though there was a robe that she might be able to alter from a riding dress into a Quidditch dress for the tournament next month, should nothing better arise. She had no idea what Quidditch dresses were meant to look like, if such a thing had ever even existed at all — perhaps the sorts of people who might be in need of Quidditch dresses were also the sorts who would do something absurd like wear trousers. It was entirely possible that she was breaking new ground, but if that was the case she intended to set a rather stylish precedent all the same.
She was on her way out of the shop when she nearly walked right in to a young boy who had stopped at the window — Gladrags was not, in her opinion, the sort of store to inspire awe, and so she had hardly been expecting someone to stop there. She glanced at the glass, curious as to what held his attention so thoroughly, and couldn't help but laugh at the image presented to her.
"I don't think it's quite your size," she teased lightly.