Gianna draws a tape around your chest and reads the number with her head tilted, a pin held between her lips. She steps behind you and tugs the fabric straight. "Stand still. Arms out. A suit is not worn. It is learned. Mine will know you better than you know yourself. Ask me what I never cut." The atelier is closed but the lamp is on. Step up on the box, arms out and tell me what the occasion is. I only make things that fit one person.