The Dress

April 4, 2018

The last time Selina Kyle was “the most downloaded fully-clothed woman on the Internet” was the first glimpse of Anne Hathaway in The Dark Knight Rises and it prompted a short Cat-Tales intermezzo called I Was Riding a Motorcycle.

Today brings a worthier object which might or might not make it into the next tale:

Cat-Tales Intermezzo: The Dress


It wasn’t an ideal morning to have breakfast on the terrace: it was overcast, a little brisk and the air had a damp, dewy feel that threatened rain later in the day.  Still Selina took her coffee outside.  She was about to do something that wanted distance from her morning routine. She was about to do something… stupid.  And the mind-splittingly stupid thing must not be ushered into her life with an unrestrained open-armed welcome as if this is simply the way it was going to be now.

“Okay,” she announced, looking suspiciously at the open expanse of table beside her coffee cup.  There was a centerpiece—samian ware, she thought absently as she moved it—and then she repeated “Okay” as she regarded the now totally bare tabletop apart from her coffee cup.  “Let’s do this,” she said, and sat.  She took a very deliberate sip of coffee. The sun crept out from behind the clouds and bathed the patio in a warming glow—and she shot it a nasty look like its hopeful imagery was not welcome.  There was even a bird chirping that she hadn’t noticed before, and she scanned the now idyllic setting with the simmering contempt of a wet cat.  “This is why we don’t do mornings around here,” she grumbled.

“Alright, let’s get this massive mistake over with,” she said, extracting the folded newspaper seemingly from nowhere as she had every night on the stage of the Hijinx Playhouse to segue into her monologue’s triumphant conclusion at the end of Act I.

“I’m sure you all saw this,” was the line, but instead of holding up the despised tabloid for the audience to see the glaring headline, she laid the Gotham Post on the table and looked down on the glossy image. Instead of a bloody Jim Gordon lying sprawled in the foreground, there was nothing but Venetian lace and rich ivory peau de soie from the Viaduc des Arts showroom of Malhia Kent, Avenue Daumesnil, Paris.  Instead of receding into a blurred image that was supposedly her running away from a shooting, the folds of elegant fabric receded into a blurred image that was supposedly her in the Deeor atelier pinned in for her first fitting.  Instead of a second coming headline screaming OFFICER DOWN, a comparatively restrained SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW teased the first glimpse of Selina Kyle’s wedding gown.  Shot by some mysterious means through the 57th Street window, it had the usual Gotham Post embellishments (black lace, for the love of Bast) but compared to the paper’s previous slanders, sketchy taste in a bridal palette could only be called progress.

She was really going to do this.

She was really going to do this.

She was really going to open the Gotham Post sans mind control and read what they were saying about her.

“Do it quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid,” she said and did just that.

She breathed.

Deeor hadn’t sold her out—thank God.

They got the materials right but that really wasn’t surprising.  Shipments from Jesurum on Calle Larga XXII Marzo a few blocks west of Piazza San Marco and Malhia on Avenue Daumesnil coming to the boutique could only be for the Wayne dress.  They didn’t know why and that meant her secret was still hers to tell Bruce and the world in her own way and at her own time.

Making a tweezers with her outstretched fingers, she carefully picked up the very corner of the page as if to touch as little as possible as she turned.  Since she’d gone this far, buying and reading a Gotham Post, she may as well press on.

Alfred was in the dining room.  It wasn’t his usual day to dust there, but he knew Miss Selina had varied her routine.  Seeing that she was up early and had settled far from the intercoms in her suite and the morning room, he thought it best to be within earshot should she require anything.

“Sweet merciful god!” rang out from the terrace.


The tale of Bruce and Selina’s wedding will continue at catwoman-cattales.com


One comment

  1. Ironically, it was 12 years ago today, April 4 2006, that the opening chapter of The Gotham Post dropped, beginning the tale that would break with DC Comics. With Edward Nigma’s Chapter 9 injunction: F*ck the Post CT would not reference the machinations in the official comics until Eddie repeated the phrase at the start of The Gotham Post, and then it was only two or three brief mentions in TGP and Inside an Enigma.

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