Our little seamstress knock at the door, bend and wait at the porch to get introduced to THE LADY. It should had being something special for the girl, knowing not much more than poverty and famine, to suddenly inter a house so magnificent. At the entrance, paintings here and there are disposed and she’s looking at them with a strange mix of feeling, probably seeing a painting for the first time in her life. Is it fear, anger, amusement, admiration…melancholy that she experience watching them?
What is passing in her mind while waiting, when she past months holding, shaping and taking care of that one dress who could had fed her hole family for years. Is she envious or devoted? Does she thinks of pinching her client with the needle while stitching on her with that ”ho, sorry” thing, or simply trembles at the simple idea that it could happens?
In the anti-chamber, she could observe, while waiting, the valets going: this one, for example, bussy doing the hairs of the other, this other one take care to un-dust the curtains, that one is cleaning his shoes, but no attention given to her, simple seamstress, as they are to serve madame in every single tasks she ask from them, have no time to pay any respect to a simple childish girl.
This girl have to stitch, and fast, just next to the skin… and it’s the only thing she can think of right at the moment. What surrounds her right now is too extravagant for her eyes, to far from her universe to be able to understand it. She wait patiently, while all servants prepare the house before the raise of madame.
Our quest is hungry, since too busy to eat this morning, and suddently her stomack reminds her: woke up at 4, and went right away to her duty on that cold morning, nothing to eat in the house anyway. Chickens didn’t lay yet.
And she’s probably even grateful to have this rare job, and probably just wait to find husband to stop working for others and start working for him… And she knows there are so much more richer people then Madame in this world. Since that seamstress have to be there, it means also that Madame doesn’t have enough servants at her charge. Still, she’s rich enough to made her dress stitch on her, showing by that to her surrounding that she’s not self sufficient, already being an other visual sign of her position in society. She can be the bitch.
Our servant is invited to enter the room, heavy perfume fill the air, mixed with human skin smell in a room that doesn’t breathe enough, too cold outside, to hard to heat. The curtains are still closed, letting just some morning light passing trough. Atmosphere is heavy, air is heavy. There Madame stands with nothing more than her cotton shirt on, her body being visible trough the backlighting, waiting in the middle of the bedroom. They have nothing to say to each other. They are not from the same world. And this hole world apart being holding on only one thread…Money!