Rules & An Elegant Day

Clara and Elise exchange weary glances as the train gently rocks beneath them. Their gloves rest neatly in their laps, fingers lightly intertwined in frustration. The list of rules seems endless, but they know each one by heart. Aunt Matilde’s standards are absolute, and breaking even a single one would lead to scolding—or worse.

 

Matilde’s Strict Dress and Behavior Code

 

Clothing Rules

 

Shirts must be crisp, perfectly white, and fully buttoned – Always fastened to the top, collars stiff and tight around the neck. Sleeves must be long, with cuffs buttoned snugly at the wrists.

 

Skirts must be structured and conservative – At least knee-length, preferably pleated or fitted. No casual fabrics or loose silhouettes. Must be properly ironed before wearing.

 

Blazers or cardigans are required in public – No exceptions. Jackets must be tailored; cardigans must be buttoned neatly without gaps.

 

Stockings must be worn at all times – Sheer, nude, or black, without runs, snags, or wrinkles. Bare legs are strictly forbidden.

 

High heels are mandatory – Black or nude pumps, minimum three inches in height. Walking gracefully is expected—no rushing or stomping.

 

Gloves must be worn when outdoors or in formal settings – Black leather or fabric, removed only when necessary.

 

Underwear must be structured and supportive – Tight-fitting shapewear is required to maintain a perfect silhouette. Corsets or waist cinchers may be required for special occasions.

 

Bras must be underwired and padded for structure – No soft cups, bralettes, or casual wear. Straps must never be visible.

 

Panties must be high-waisted and seamless – No visible lines, no lace or patterns. Only neutral colors are allowed.

 

Makeup & Grooming Rules

 

Makeup must be flawless and elegant – Foundation for perfect skin, subtle eyeshadow, precisely applied eyeliner, and always red or deep pink lipstick.

 

Eyebrows must be neatly shaped and filled in – No over-plucking or unkempt brows allowed.

 

Hair must always be styled properly – No loose, unbrushed hair. Either curled, styled into waves, or pinned back neatly.

 

Nails must be well-manicured and painted – Only classic shades such as nude, red, or French manicure. No chipped polish.

 

Perfume is required – A subtle, sophisticated scent, never overpowering but always noticeable.

 

Behavior & Etiquette Rules

 

Posture must always be perfect – Back straight, shoulders pulled back, chin slightly lifted. Slouching is unacceptable.

 

Legs must be crossed properly – Either at the knees or ankles, depending on the situation. No casual sitting positions.

 

Walking must be graceful – Small, controlled steps with no rushing or unladylike movements.

 

Speaking must be refined – No slang, no loud voices, and certainly no interrupting others. Speech must be articulate and well-paced.

 

Smiling is encouraged, but only when appropriate – No excessive grinning or laughing too loudly in public. Composure is key.

 

No fidgeting or adjusting clothing in public – Any discomfort must be endured silently until a private moment allows for readjustment.

 

Food must be eaten delicately – Small bites, no rushing, and no messy foods. Cutlery must be handled with precision.

 

Hands must remain neatly placed on the lap or at the sides when sitting – No leaning on tables, no elbows resting on surfaces.

 

Thank-yous and pleasantries are mandatory – Proper etiquette in every social interaction is expected at all times.

 

No expressing discomfort or fatigue – Complaining about the restrictive clothing, painful shoes, or long days is not permitted.

 

Elise sighs, looking down at her perfectly manicured hands. “I think we just listed half of my daily suffering.”

 

Clara swallows, feeling the firm press of her corset beneath her blouse. “And yet, we have no choice but to follow every single one.”

 

The train rattles on, and outside, the world moves freely—comfortably. But inside their carefully maintained appearance, Clara and Elise remain prisoners of elegance.

 

A Desperate Plea to Aunt Matilde

 

Clara and Elise stood stiffly in the grand sitting room of Aunt Matilde’s townhouse, their hands clasped in front of them, their posture unwavering despite the unbearable heat pressing against their layered clothing. The morning sun streamed in through the tall windows, casting golden light across the polished wooden floors, but instead of feeling warm and inviting, the air in the room was thick with tension.

 

Matilde sat before them in her perfectly tailored suit, her high-collared blouse as immaculate as ever. A cup of tea rested on the table beside her, untouched. She studied the two young women with a sharp, knowing gaze, already sensing the plea they were about to make.

 

Clara took a steadying breath. “Aunt Matilde,” she began, careful to keep her voice respectful, “Elise and I wanted to ask if we could make just a small adjustment to our attire today. It’s—” she hesitated, feeling the weight of Matilde’s cool stare, “—it’s very warm outside, and we thought perhaps—”

 

Elise, emboldened by Clara’s start, stepped in. “Perhaps we could just unbutton the top button of our blouses? Just for today? It would help us breathe more easily.”

 

Matilde set her teacup down with an audible clink and raised a single, disapproving eyebrow. “Unbutton your collars?” she repeated, her voice calm but laced with unmistakable disapproval.

 

Clara nodded quickly. “Yes, Aunt Matilde. Just the top button.” She swallowed, feeling the constriction of the fabric around her throat. “It’s a stifling summer day, and we’ll be walking quite a bit.”

 

Matilde exhaled slowly, as if the very notion exhausted her. “Clara, Elise,” she said, her tone measured, “there is a reason your collars are buttoned. A lady does not adjust her clothing merely for comfort. Elegance requires discipline, and discipline means enduring slight discomforts without complaint.”

 

Elise’s gloved hands clenched at her sides. “But Aunt Matilde, it’s not a slight discomfort—it’s suffocating! We can barely move our necks properly, and the heat—”

 

Matilde’s expression darkened. “You will not whine, Elise.”

 

Elise fell silent, pressing her painted lips together.

 

Clara tried again, shifting to another request. “Perhaps, then, we could at least take off our gloves? Just while we’re outside? Our hands get so warm, and it’s not as if we need them for anything formal today.”

 

Matilde sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Your gloves remain on.”

 

“But—” Elise tried again, but Matilde cut her off with a firm look.

 

“A proper lady does not go about with bare hands in public like some careless girl,” Matilde stated. “Your gloves complete your ensemble. You will wear them.”

 

Clara felt a sting of frustration but bit her tongue. She had expected resistance, but she was determined to try again. “What about our stockings?” she asked carefully. “It’s a dreadful day for heavy layers, Aunt Matilde, and no one will see—”

 

“Absolutely not,” Matilde interjected, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Stockings are non-negotiable. A lady’s legs must never be bare, regardless of the weather.”

 

Elise groaned softly, unable to hold back her exasperation. “But they’re unbearable! We’re already wearing long skirts. No one will see our bare legs!”

 

Matilde’s eyes narrowed. “And that, my dear, is exactly why no one should suspect that you are improperly dressed underneath. Your attire is a reflection of your standards, even in ways that are not immediately visible.”

 

Clara’s patience was wearing thin, but she forced herself to remain composed. “Aunt Matilde… we understand your rules, truly. We respect them. But just for today, given the circumstances—”

 

Matilde folded her arms across her chest. “Given the circumstances?” she echoed. “The circumstances being a warm summer’s day? Do you think women of refinement abandon their dignity just because the temperature rises?”

 

Elise muttered under her breath, “We wouldn’t be abandoning dignity. We’d just be a little less miserable.”

 

Matilde’s expression tightened. “Excuse me, young lady?”

 

Elise paled. “Nothing, Aunt Matilde.”

 

Matilde let the silence stretch before sighing. “I expected better from both of you. This conversation is unbecoming.” She took another sip of her tea before continuing, “If you wish to be taken seriously as proper young women, you must show resilience, not weakness. You will wear your gloves, your stockings, your buttoned blouses, and you will do so without further protest.”

 

Clara’s fingers twitched in frustration, but she knew pushing any further would only make things worse. She hesitated, then, almost fearing the answer, dared to ask one final question.

 

“Aunt Matilde… may we… would it be possible to wear trousers, instead of skirts?”

 

Matilde’s teacup stopped halfway to her lips. The very suggestion hung in the air like a forbidden curse. She placed the cup down slowly and fixed both girls with an icy glare.

 

“Trousers?” she repeated, as though testing the word on her tongue.

 

Elise straightened her posture but remained defiant. “Yes, Aunt Matilde. We don’t even own any, but we could buy a pair. Just for once. Just to see what it’s like.”

 

Matilde’s nostrils flared. “Absolutely not. The very idea is absurd.”

 

“But why?” Clara pressed. “Men wear them every day. They can walk freely, sit comfortably, and move without restriction. It’s unfair that we—”

 

Matilde cut her off with a sharp glance. “Men and women are not the same, Clara. And you will not dress like a man. I will not have my nieces traipsing about in such vulgar attire.”

 

Elise let out an incredulous laugh. “Vulgar? Trousers are vulgar?”

 

Matilde’s voice was razor-sharp. “On women, yes.”

 

Clara’s heart sank. They had lost.

 

Matilde picked up her tea again, signaling that the discussion was over. “You are both intelligent young women. I expect you to understand that propriety is not about convenience. It is about grace, discipline, and respectability.”

 

Clara and Elise exchanged a silent look. There was no winning this argument. No loosening of their collars, no relief from their gloves, no escape from the stockings that clung to their legs like a second skin.

 

Defeated, they murmured their acceptance, curtsied stiffly, and turned to leave the room. As they walked away, Matilde’s voice followed them, firm and unwavering.

 

“Now, go freshen up and reapply your lipstick. You both look fatigued, and that is not an acceptable appearance for a lady.”

 

The door closed behind them. Elise exhaled sharply, pressing her forehead against the wall. “I give up.”

 

Clara sighed, adjusting her suffocating collar. “So do I.”

 

And with that, they resigned themselves to yet another day of perfect, polished, and utterly uncomfortable elegance.

 

A Day of Elegance and Endurance

 

The sun was already high in the sky when Clara and Elise stepped out onto the bustling streets of New York. The city hummed with life—cars honked, pedestrians weaved through the sidewalks, and a warm breeze drifted between the towering buildings. But while the world around them moved freely, Clara and Elise felt anything but free.

 

Clara adjusted the cuffs of her crisp white blouse, the fabric pulled taut against her shoulders, refusing to give even as she tried to loosen it. The high collar, fastened all the way up, pressed against her throat, and though she tried to ignore it, the sensation of being constricted was ever-present. Elise, beside her, tugged at the fingers of her leather gloves, but even the small gesture was futile. The gloves were to stay on, just as their stockings, skirts, and perfectly buttoned blouses were non-negotiable.

 

"Where shall we go first?" Clara asked, forcing cheer into her voice.

 

Elise exhaled slowly, already feeling the sweat forming beneath her clothing. "Does it even matter? We could be strolling through paradise, and I'd still feel like I'm being suffocated by my own outfit."

 

Clara chuckled, though there was little amusement in it. "At least we look elegant," she offered.

 

Elise rolled her eyes. "Yes, we look like the epitome of refinement. But I’d trade all this elegance for just a moment of comfort."

A Walk Through the Park—A Struggle in Elegance

 

They decided to start their day in Central Park, hoping that the shade of the trees might bring some respite. But walking proved to be an ordeal. Their fitted skirts restricted their steps, forcing them into small, deliberate strides. Their high heels clicked against the pavement, adding an air of sophistication but punishing their feet with every step.

 

Elise let out a sigh of frustration. "I swear, if I trip on this ridiculous skirt one more time, I’ll scream."

 

Clara cast a sideways glance at her. "Careful, Aunt Matilde might sense your improper thoughts from across the city."

 

Elise scoffed, flexing her gloved fingers. "Oh yes, and she’d probably send a telegram ordering us to sit properly and compose ourselves immediately."

 

They found a bench beneath a large oak tree, hoping to rest, but even sitting was uncomfortable. Their skirts remained tight around their legs, and the stockings ensured that no cool air reached their skin. Clara shifted slightly, trying to find a more relaxed position, but her high collar made her posture rigid no matter what.

 

She sighed. "Even resting is exhausting in this outfit."

 

Elise reached up to unbutton the top of her blouse instinctively, but her gloved fingers struggled against the small, rigid buttons. Clara immediately grabbed her wrist. "Don’t. If Aunt Matilde somehow finds out, we’ll never hear the end of it."

 

Elise groaned in frustration but relented. "You know what I hate most?" she asked. "The fact that we could so easily find relief. If we could just loosen something—our collars, our gloves, anything—we'd be fine. But no, we must suffer for elegance."

 

Clara sighed, adjusting the stiff fabric of her blouse. "Aunt Matilde would say suffering builds character."

 

"Well, I’d rather be characterless and comfortable," Elise muttered.

Lunch in a Café—A Battle Against the Heat

 

By the time they reached a charming little café for lunch, the midday sun was merciless. The heat pressed against them, yet their clothing allowed for no relief. Their blouses, though pristine and starched, clung to their skin beneath the layers. Their stockings made their legs feel like they were trapped in an oven.

 

The moment they entered the café, the rush of cool, air-conditioned air was both a blessing and a cruel reminder of how unbearably hot they were. Elise sat down gingerly, careful not to wrinkle her skirt, while Clara tried once again to shift in her seat to find even the smallest amount of comfort.

 

The waiter arrived, smiling politely. "What can I get for you ladies?"

 

Clara forced a pleasant smile. "Just iced tea for me, please."

 

Elise, however, had other concerns. "Excuse me, sir, would it be terribly improper if we removed our gloves while we eat?" She held up her hands, fingers barely moving within the tight leather.

 

The waiter blinked, clearly caught off guard by such a formal question. "I… I don’t see why not?"

 

Elise’s eyes lit up in hope, but just as she was about to pull off her gloves, Clara placed a warning hand over hers. "Elise," she whispered, voice firm.

 

Elise groaned. "Clara, we’re inside, we’re sitting down, and he said it’s fine—"

 

"But Aunt Matilde wouldn't," Clara reminded her.

 

Elise exhaled sharply, her head tilting back in frustration. "You know what? I don’t even care anymore. Let the world judge me!"

 

Just as she slipped her fingers beneath the leather to pull off the gloves, the door to the café swung open.

 

A familiar, chilling voice cut through the air.

 

"Elise. Clara."

 

The girls froze. Slowly, they turned to see Aunt Matilde standing in the doorway, her posture as imposing as ever.

 

Elise’s hands dropped instantly, the gloves staying in place.

 

Clara, heart racing, quickly straightened her already-perfect posture.

 

Matilde strode toward them, her heels clicking in a way that sent shivers down their spines. She didn’t need to say anything. Her piercing gaze swept over them, noting every wrinkle, every sign of improper conduct.

 

"Not even a full day," she murmured disapprovingly, "and already you contemplate compromise?"

 

Elise clenched her jaw. "We were just trying to find some relief."

 

Matilde’s lips pressed together in disapproval. "Relief? And is dignity such a burden to you that you would abandon it so easily?"

 

Clara hurried to diffuse the tension. "Aunt Matilde, it’s just a warm day, and—"

 

"Enough," Matilde said coolly. "You will endure, as any proper lady should." She lifted her chin. "Now, sit up straight, adjust your gloves properly, and remember who you are."

 

Elise closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, defeated. "Yes, Aunt Matilde."

 

The rest of the meal passed in silence. The girls sipped their iced tea, their gloves remaining on, their collars pressing against their throats, their stockings ensuring their legs felt anything but free.

Evening—Resigned to Elegance

 

By the time the day ended, Clara and Elise collapsed onto the couch in their apartment. Their feet ached, their clothing felt like a prison, and yet… they had endured.

 

Elise let out a breath. "You know, I hate to admit it… but I suppose Aunt Matilde would be proud."

 

Clara smirked, unbuttoning her collar the second they were alone. "Proud or not, I’m sleeping in a nightgown so loose it might as well be a sheet."

 

Elise chuckled, slipping off her gloves at last. "Same. But you know… we did look stunning today."

 

Clara nodded. "We did. Even if we suffered for it."

 

And with that, they bid farewell to another day of restrained elegance, knowing that tomorrow would bring another battle between refinement and comfort.

Done