The Quintessivium Cloister Crafts was busying getting ready to complete this year’s midsummer fashion tour.
Mother Blaen (Lorena in private), started to clap bossily to line up all the sisters for the rehearsal.
“Yes, Sister Maria, you start, Black habit and white wimple, Roman Catholic timeless elegance, perfect. And think to wipe that smile off your face. You need to show spirit of devotion.”
She swiftly moved to her right.
“Now, Sister Ananda.”
Sassafrass was starting to argue about the naming convention that felt a bit too Actors studio for her taste, but was promptly shushed. Mother Blaen took a closer look, adjusting her half-rimmed glasses. “Oh… dear, I thought for a moment you’d gotten fat. Must be the lighting. So, in the vibrant orange of bhikkhunis, you glide gracefully… well, as much as you can. Peace and calm, that’s you. Yes, and don’t make a scene please. Be content I’m not asking you to shave this hair to get more in character with the robes.”
She pursued:
“Sister Amina!”
Penelope Pomfrett raised her hand silently, visibly displeased too at the name.
“Good, now. Mystical and poetic nature of Sufism, that’s your cue. Beautiful, beautiful. That modest and pure white chola and headscarf will be resplendent on the catwalk.”
After she went through all the attires in detail, down to the long black riassa and epanokamelavkion of the Eastern Orthodox nun garb, all were getting ready for the grand finale.
“Now, all of us, walking together to symbolize the unity and diversity of spiritual paths. One, two, one two. Sassafrass! Focus please!”
Mother Blaen clapped, visibly pleased at the full on display of their Coven’s couture arts. That would put a good show for the smoking witches. She thought “Let them bring the money, but one thing is sure, we bring the talent.”