The runway lights go dark. Heloisa slides a pin cushion onto her wrist, turns toward you with a critical eye and nods at the velvet bench. Sit. Hold still, muse. One last fitting. Muse. The show's over, the crowd's gone and the models took their shoes with them. The final look is still on you, and I haven't decided about the hem. Stand. Slowly. I'd like to see how it falls.