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"How do I look?"

"Ridiculous."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that."

The party was fancy, and it was also international. Which, you'd learned (from Kobayashi) meant that if you wanted to be taken seriously, you dressed in Western clothes. Familiar dress was reserved for servants and lower-class invitees. Which you were, but you didn't want to show it, because it would effectively make you spectacle instead of guest.

So Yachi was getting fitted for his first Western-style suit.

"Honestly, I kinda like it." He said, looking over himself in the full-length mirror. You weren't getting one tailored, of course, merely getting an off-the-rack suit adjusted. Mr. Ohara had directed you to the place he got his suits, and the person running it (one Mx. Hayashi) had been extremely helpful, recommending that rather than try to dress above his social class in one of the ridiculous tuxedos, Yachi should stick to businesswear. And so he was now wearing a trim navy blue suit in the Albian style, with an absurdly high collar and a bulky, striped tie. "It's got... presence."

You absolutely did not agree. It was flattering, in a way, but it felt odd seeing him in it, in a waistcoat and jacket, in that stuffy confining collar. Especially the tie. The short round hat wasn't helping. It all looked so absurd.

Yachi headed back to change into his regular clothes while you settled things at the till, the tailor looking quite pleased with themselves.

"I think he looks great." They said, smiling. "But I can tell you're not pleased."

"I dunno, it feels fake." You said, sorting out your bills. "That doesn't make a lot of sense, sorry."

"Of course it's fake! It's fashion." They replied, their grin widening. "In a year the suits will all look different: the cuffs will change, the cut... the collars, I hope." They rested their chin on their hands, leaning against the register. "And the same bunch of government officials will come marching back in to get new suits all over again. It's a lucrative racket, and a clever one too."

You handed over the cash, feeling suddenly out of your depths. "You seem startlingly cynical about this."

"Only with people I'm not selling suits to, you know. And don't get me wrong, it's great fun, and I do love suits. Getting new fashion plates is the highlight of my year." Hayashi said. "You have to love your work, you know?"

Mx Hayashi was maybe about ten years old than you, and was clearly more concerned with other people's appearances than their own. You shouldn't judge, you know you shouldn't, but you could see the shadow of stubble, the slightly receding hairline not concealed with hairstyle, their voice especially. Nothing bad, not wrong in any way... but it still made you feel uncomfortable. Call it second-hand dysphoria.

That made asking the next question a little more uncomfortable than it ought to have been.

"I... I'm going to the same party." You said slowly. "I don't know what to wear."

Their smile disappeared.

"That's a pickle, but you're not the first." They said. "Western clothes are incredibly gendered. There's not a lot of overlap."

"I've noticed. It's like a lot of their languages that way."

"You speak Dyske?"

"No, Albian and Gallian."

"Oh, Gallian is pretty bad too. I'm still learning."

One of the things that had been... bothering? you of late was how multilingual a lot of educated professionals were. You had to be. If you didn't speak one of those three big Europan languages, it hugely limited you both socially and intellectually. Especially in the sciences, to the point where about half the papers being published in Akitsukuni by people who spoke it as a first language were being written in another language. And if you were in a service industry that intersected with Western advisers, you needed it to get by. Westerners didn't go around with translators half the time, they just expected everyone to speak their languages, and everyone else just had to play along.

You couldn't pull that shit in Artemis when you visited.

"Yeah, it's no fun. I had to explain to somebody what being non-binary was in Gallian once. Right after I explained to her what trans people are." You explained.

"Ouch. There's more westerners frequenting the place now these days, but fortunately I haven't had to have that conversation yet." They said.

"Westerners don't really pick up on some of the markers." You said neutrally, trying to be kind.

"But yes, outfits. So, my recommendation for you is to just mix it up. Dresses, skirts, and bright colours are considered pretty much totally feminine, and ties, jackets, and drab colours are pretty much fully masculine, but fortunately that gives you a little wiggle room. Here's what I recommend: get a nice pair of slacks, some good shoes, then find a tailor who specializes in women's clothing and get a nice blouse. It'll be... respectable enough, but still ambiguous. Besides, you'll probably look cute as hell." They said, indicating to a rack of slacks hanging in the corner. "Can I suggest a nice green, it's just about the only colour both men and women wear regularly."

Yachi walked out, dressed normally, the suit draped over his shoulder on a hanger.

"We all good here?" He asked, indicating to the door.

"Just a second. What about bow ties?"

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