Pellihellar

"Welcome, all, to Pellihellar, I am your hostess, Kimi Naloli this year we are celebrating on Brightest Day, I hope everyone has their costumes ready?"

A great cheer answered.

"Aren't you all just precious. I look forward to seeing all the new styles and referents for the catalog, but first, we will have a screen dance, as is tradition!"

The lights went out, except for one, a very powerful one, behind a silk screen. Behind it, a young woman stood immobile, in what seemed a complex, outline-breaking outfit. The music changed, from a brassy, fanfare arrangement, to a battle skirl performed by three different sizes and types of bagpipes. The audience laughed, thinking they knew what came next. The music changed again, synths ramping up and down the scale. The audience was looking, some were even holding their breath, this was unusual, you didn't change the music, it was supposed to tell you... Oh, the fanfare and the skirl were both military music, so composed a single theme, well played, they all thought. Then the synths stopped flowing up and down, just going thump-thump, thump-thump, the woman behind the screen threw her fist in the air, as she fell to her knees, and rose, and fell again. That was interesting, and some of the outline of her outfit flew like a skirt, or perhaps culottes, very interesting, very unusual choice, Pellihellar was demanding, as she had to dance behind the screen, and let them guess the outfit or the performer, but without them seeing it. A frou-frou skirt was considered next-level difficulty, but that's apparently what she was wearing.

Then the skirt fell off, unwrapping itself, and landing bunched up around her ankles, like a wedding train, and she spun around herself in a long pirouette, the train spinning at almost max extension, visibly weighted, and so just above her knees. Her high-heeled shoes going thwack-thwack-thwack as she spun.

Falling back onto her knees, her back bending until her head extended back to the floor, she reached out for her buttons, flipping off the odd numbered buttons of her jacket.

Not a sound from the audience.

Then flipping off the even buttons, and pulling the jacket up, then out, pulling it off her arms and leaving it on the floor behind the screen as she rose back, stabbing at the sky with one arm then the other.

The music stopped.

"Can anyone guess the style?"

"Mei!"

"Ero!"

"Slik!"

"Kanpuma!"

"Sorenstava!"

"Rutheni!"

More guessing for about thirty seconds.

"Hmm, no one got it this time. What about the character?"

"Prince Tofflin!"

"Princess Dandelfun!"

"Darkmage Stanfolion."

"Boo!" Apparently someone didn't like that suggestion, or maybe just not that character.

"Nope, not them either. I guess we go to the reveal."

"What about guessing the performer?"

"Pish posh, that'd be too easy, no one has fooled so many, but her!"

"Ami-Ami-Ami-Dan-De-Li-On!"

The screen lifted, and as expected, stood, all of 1m45 tall, her hair blue, wearing a jaboted man's white seersucker shirt, all but translucent, pretty pearl buttons up and down the length, that disappeared in a long, flowing lace skirt, held down by bolts of hermine.

"I give you, Ami Dandelion, the style: Dawn Pistoleer, in fact, the skirt is a replica of the skirt part of a dress that Queen Marie-Ange of Alessia herself wore, while the shirt is a replica of one her purported lover, Angevin, Archduke of Bramant-Reigundy, blood price of Bleg wore."