Astrid had always been a great admirer of lines and movement in art, and it was hard not to wistfully see Nina's little spin and the way her skirt flowed as some sort of art-in-motion. A small, gentle, quiet thing underneath all that loudness.

She smiled softly. "You're talking to someone from almost thirty years in the past," she told her, "so I don't know how helpful I'll be with modern, but I was looking for some new clothes. All the ones I have..." were woven by ghosts "...just aren't cutting it right now..."