Needlers! Brace yourselves for the sartorial specter that was Valia Wain's legal representation!

For the Barrister and Delegate Lluïsa Oriol i Cornellà, our eyes were first caught by the massive capirote hat- certainly too big for her- that perches atop her head like an impaler's spike. This black felt monstrosity, while well constructed and embroidered, served only to announce 'I've sold my soul and my sense of style'. Beneath that extravagance, she is a study in monochrome. A voluminous black woven wool cloak, reasonable but quite well-worn, fits her adequately, with a single plain brass button at the neck the only ornamentation. Gloves and boots in black third-rate leather (no kid gloves, one thinks) complete this funereal ensemble.  The Barrister's outfit screams 'I take myself too seriously' louder than any courtroom objection. 

Well, somebody's a bitch.

Has her career reached the "getting insulted in pamphlets" level?

This pamphlet gets the butt-stamp. 

Isn't there a decree against infernal proselytization?

Viricanilla isn't sure which Hellish power rules over fashion; there are too many dukes and malebranche and whatnot to track them all. But the mix of cruelty, hierarchy-setting, and pride involved is just so obviously of Hell that there has to be one.

(Maybe Mahathallah, Dowager of Illusion? She's said to be concerned with vanity. It doesn't seem like her style, but Viricanilla is hardly an expert on infernal theology.)

Needlers! The Prosecution also presented us with quite the spectacle!

For Her Majesty's Prosecutor Eliad Comez-Xarra's tight doublet of midnight blue velvet fit him somewhat like a sausage. Gold brocade, with a pattern we could not quite make out, trimmed the edges and cuffs. The garment's silver buttons, cunningly wrought with the Imperial Seal, strained somewhat against their fastenings, due to the stress of the case, no doubt.  His breeches were less tight (a mercy to those of us of the fairer sex) and were cut from cream-colored leather. Beneath, they met boots (silver floral buckles) of Molthune calf leather, dyed a deep cordovan and rising to mid-thigh. 

In the courtroom of style, one wonders if the esteemed prosecutor's well stuffed doublet might at least constitute something of a misdemeanor.

Needlers! Our eyes were blessed by the radiant presence of Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Aspexia III, Defender of Civilization!

Her Majesty in her infinite, supreme beauty always outshines all other women, and on this day did so in a masterpiece dress, known to the Needler to have been from the House of Mestre Jordi Casals i Pujol. The gown, embracing her majesty's perfect form, was cut from Qadiran silk in pristine white and gold, featured a tight-fitting bodice with a square neckline.  Delicate gold threadwork adorned the white stomacher in an intricate pattern of Rapiers and Uilos flowers.  From Her Majesty's perfect shoulders, who have in combat felled a thousand foes, descended a cape-length train of deep blue velvet, lined with taffeta. Its hem is embroidered with gold bullion thread, which, we are reliably informed, depicted scenes of her Majesty's great Victories in intricate detail. 

Atop Her Majesty's glorious form sat a tiara of unparalleled splendor. Mestre Pau Fortuny i Miró, a jeweler with which the Needler is familiar, has crafted this piece from gold wirework so fine it appeared as delicate as lace. At the tiara's center, a flawless blue sapphire of, we are reliably informed, some two hundred carats.

In the grand court of style, as in all things, Her Imperial Majesty reigns supreme.