BIA Ch. 33

As they crossed the main road, a full-fledged shopping district unfolded before them. Bran naturally headed toward the largest street facing the boulevard. As is typical in such shopping areas, the most prime and expensive locations were lined exclusively with luxury brand stores, forming a high-end shopping avenue.

“Do you have a favorite brand?” Bran asked, gesturing to the luxury stores on either side. The further they went, the fewer locals Isaiah saw and the more crowded it became with Chinese tourists. It seemed they were straying further and further from his preferred path.

“I wouldn’t know about brands… I have a preferred style, though.”

Bran raised an eyebrow, as if asking, “What style?” Isaiah, as if waiting for this, grabbed Bran’s arm and turned him around. Walking back the way they had come, he said, “First of all, not here. Let’s try a different street.”

Pulling Bran away from the luxury street, Isaiah headed for an alley lined with boutique select shops and SPA brand stores. Coincidentally, a fashion brand launched by a famous hip-hop artist was displaying a loud advertisement on the store wall to commemorate the opening of its flagship store.

“Can we go in here?”

Bran looked slightly taken aback but soon opened the door and entered, as if to say there would be no problem.

However, the store employees seemed to think differently. It was understandable. Two darkly-clad men had entered a store synonymous with street fashion and at this point, age was irrelevant. The store was mostly filled with teenagers, but there were also some in their thirties, one dressed as if he would head straight to a gay club after sunset and the other in a suit.

The problem was probably the suit. It was likely an expensive brand, easily recognizable to anyone in the clothing industry. Surely, they weren’t reacting to the outline of the pistol visible above his left side. Even the most observant people wouldn’t immediately recognize that… would they? Would they?

“I think we should buy something quickly and leave.”

Isaiah whispered, conscious of the employees’ sidelong glances.

“What’s the matter? Take your time.”

Bran, on the other hand, was relaxed. He had looked disgusted by the graffiti and flashy advertisements in the window display, but once inside, he examined the clothes on the hangers with an intrigued gaze. It was the look of someone clearly thinking, ‘There are actually crazy people who pay money for clothes like this.’ But even so, he was intrigued.

“No one would think we’re actually going to wear these clothes. They’ll assume we’re buying a gift for a nephew.”

Bran said, holding up a t-shirt with a coffin decorated with pink roses on a black background, a neon green skull lying inside.

“Do you have a nephew?”

“Of course not.”

“Right. Even if you would, never give him something like that. He would hate it.”

Bran laughed and returned the skull t-shirt to the hanger.

“By the way, where’s your suit from? Armani? Versace? Zegna? Chanel? Gucci?”

Isaiah rattled off the names of expensive luxury brands he knew.

“It’s custom-made. A tailor Cedric introduced me to.”

“Italian?”

“Neapolitan.”

Bran said, picking up a colorful graffiti-covered t-shirt hanging next to the skull one. “I would have liked to take Chester there but he would only ever wear Attolini or Dior.”

“Well… he probably knows what looks good on him.”

If Chester were to try on Bran’s suit, it would undoubtedly look like a child wearing an adult’s clothes. Of course, as it’s not ready-made, they would tailor it to fit him somehow, but perhaps because I haven’t seen it myself, I can’t quite picture it at the moment.

“Hmm, that style certainly suits Chester now.”

“What’s so Chester-like about it?”

Instead of answering immediately, Bran carefully chose his words.

“It feels like I’m attending fashion week alone all year round.”

As Isaiah burst out laughing, the store manager, Manny, approached and asked if he would like a one-on-one curating service. He seemed to be planning to guide him to a less conspicuous corner of the store to avoid attracting attention.

“Do you need it?”

“Ah, no. It’s okay. I already have something specific in mind.”

Indeed, even before entering the store, he had a fully formed image in his mind, like a lookbook. An image of the clothes he wanted, perfectly arranged.

However, it seemed unlikely he would find those clothes here. The items on display were overwhelmingly brightly colored.

Just in case, he described the style he was looking for to Manny, who, for some reason or perhaps simply relieved to finally get these darkly dressed men off the first floor responded enthusiastically and offered to escort him to the basement level.

Politely declining the escort, the two of them descended the stairs to the basement. Sure enough, all the clothes seemingly devoid of color from the first floor were gathered there.

“The floor layout is quite extreme.”

Bran remarked, observing the racks crammed with neutral-toned clothing.

“I suppose it’s arranged for customers to shop comfortably according to their preferences.”

Fortunately, all the items Isaiah sought were concentrated on the first and second basement levels. After about twenty minutes of hunting or rather, shopping, he found everything he had envisioned. A gray raglan hoodie with a large logo on the chest, jeans, beige sneakers, and a classic varsity jacket.

“Is this all?”

“Yes. This is enough.”

When he said he didn’t need anything else, Bran suggested he should at least consider his options more carefully.

“I’ve thought it through enough.”

“It’s too ordinary. For a raglan hoodie, you could choose a two-tone design with different…”

“No, I like this one.”

At Isaiah’s firm stance, Bran finally shrugged, conceding the point.

“What about a hat?”

Isaiah mentally added a hat to the completed lookbook in his mind. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it looked quite good. But it wasn’t the image he desired. He preferred it as it was, exactly as he had pictured it.

“I don’t need a hat.”

Bran again nodded agreeably.

After Bran paid, Isaiah, holding the shopping bag, asked the cashier, “Would it be alright if I changed into these now?”

“Of course. However, please be aware that we cannot accept exchanges once the tags are removed.”

“I understand.”

Isaiah asked Bran to wait a moment and then changed in the first-floor fitting room. He emerged carrying his discarded clothes in the shopping bag.

“How does it look?” he asked Bran, who had been waiting on a bench nearby. Bran looked him over carefully, then nodded.

“You look nineteen.”

Isaiah was very pleased. He noticed a sales associate nearby giving them a look that seemed to say, “Drug addicts these days are getting creative,” but he didn’t care. He felt strangely fulfilled. Perhaps this was what people meant when they said clothes make the person. He finally felt like a true nineteen-year-old.

After their shopping trip, the two walked back to the cafe where they had parked. At Bran’s suggestion, they stopped at a tea house next door for a drink before leaving.

Isaiah had wondered why Bran wanted tea, but, as expected, Bran scanned the menu filled with unfamiliar tea names and ordered coffee, which was clearly listed as an afterthought. It seemed he hadn’t wanted tea at all but had simply chosen the tea house because it had caught his eye when he wanted coffee.

“Is it okay to have another coffee? Are you sure…?”

“I need to have another. That’s the only way it’ll be okay.”

Bran replied, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“How many hours of sleep do you get each day?”

“Well, I’d like to know that myself.”

“How long have you had insomnia?”

“Why don’t you ask Charlie about that?”

Charlie presumably referred to Dr. Ackerman, whose full name, if Isaiah recalled correctly, was Charlize Ackerman.

Isaiah knew it meant not to press further, so he decided to back off gracefully. Just then, the drinks they had ordered arrived, providing a natural break in the conversation. The beverages were served by a middle-aged woman dressed in a traditional outfit that seemed vaguely Eastern, though it was hard to tell whether it was from China, India, or Sri Lanka. The decor seemed to match this ambiguous theme, albeit loosely. As she placed their drinks on the table, Isaiah glanced at her attire and thought Bran might have made the wiser choice after all. Truth be told, Isaiah had wanted a lemon iced tea too. However, feeling self-conscious, he had opted for the shop’s recommended menu item, Darjeeling tea, instead.