Rebecca greets you at the door with a thin, nervous smile on her lips that blossoms into a more genuine expression upon seeing your face. With an inviting gesture, she opens the door wider and pulls you into a brief, appreciative hug.

"Thank you for being here,"

she exclaims.

"I can't tell you how much it means to me. This gala tonight has really messed me up."

Her lightweight denim jeans bear frayed edges, the knee hole perpetually expanding every time you see her. A pair of worn, graying white Nikes cling forlornly to her dainty feet, their creased sides exposing mismatched socks. She wears a heavy brown unisex t-shirt with a cartoonish picture, a reference to a game you haven’t played. As she leads you toward her bedroom, she continues.

"The dress code is 'black tie,' can you believe it? I've never been to anything like that before! I panicked and hastily ordered a bunch of things online, and well, I may have gone overboard..."

She motions towards her bed, adorned with a vibrant display of elegant earrings, dresses, stockings, shoes, and other refined accessories.

"I've tried on countless combinations, but nothing feels

right

,

" she confides, turning to you with her wide, chestnut eyes filled with an imploring plea. "

That's when I thought, why not seek an outside perspective? You have an eye for what looks good, can you help me choose something to wear? We still have a few hours before I need to leave."