Empty Bliss

At Bliss

It first struck the writer how things were when she materialized at the old, familiar landing point.  Except that it wasn’t the same place anymore.

Oh, sure, it was the familiar large hall with the pink stairs and the magenta runway and the familiar, long-respected logo reading Bliss Couture at the top of it all.  But the room itself was empty.  There wasn’t another soul in the entire sim.  That was bizarre to say the least; she recalled how, when she had come here in the past, the region had been busy at the very least, and a lag hell when a popular new release or a collection showing was going on.  It wasn’t that now; it was lonely, and a touch eerie, and maybe a little depressing.  She had known for some time that Amutey Decuir was closing the doors on one of the venerable fashion houses, had seen group announcements about closeout sales, all the way down to 90% off all stock.

That had been a while back.  Apparently, just as at the famous Last Sale in 2008, the fashionistas had finally stuffed themselves full of purchases, and had departed for newer couturières, leaving nothing but memories and virtual cobwebs.  She could almost feel the chilly wind of the virtual autumn circulating through the empty halls of the building.  All that remained was for someone to notify Linden Lab to shut down the sim server.

Well, I guess I can indulge as long as I want, as long as my wallet holds out, she thought ruefully to herself.  Doesn’t look like it’ll be a fight to get to any of the vendors.  And, as was usual for her, she turned and made for the gowns first.  But a vague sense of guilt washed through her as she went ahead and shopped her way across the building.  Somehow it just didn’t seem right this time to be buying stuff from such a quality designer at 10 cents on the linden, essentially.  Bliss had always been one of the best designers on the Grid, branching out into hair and furs and casual wear as time went on.  And Amutey had certainly known how to charge for her work.  But she had also kept the prices below L$1,000 for most individual dresses, and even the fatpacks were affordable if you didn’t go on a massive splurge.  This felt…wrong in a way it was hard to explain; almost as if she were picking over carrion like a vulture.

That didn’t stop the writer from going through and stocking up, though.  As she moved everything into a specially-marked Inventory folder for later examination, she decided that, if Amutey was willing, then so be it.  It might be worth a few more lookovers before the sim closes for good.  But, as she sat down to begin writing her thoughts and feelings down, she paused and raised the wine glass on her desk up in a silent toast to Amutey Decuir and her business team, thinking, Thanks much, my lady.  It’s been a hell of a ride.

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