"And I honored to have been chosen," she replies with a corresponding lift of her glass.

For all that Alexandrie had chosen her signature colours years and years ago, that shimmering peacock color is entrancing and is frankly going to look absolutely amazing next to the bright copper of her hair. She hums happily at it, and then tilts her head with great interest. There are no seams in the cloth, nothing to pass ones arms through, nor tighten to make a waist. It is like an untouched bolt of fabric waiting to be made into a dress rather than clothing in and of itself.

"I am most intrigued to find out how that shall take form," she says, slipping the robe from her shoulders in preparation as unselfconsciously as a model might for an artist in a studio.