The first piece would be a shimmering gown that ripples like a moonlit lake, every seam a silver thread that pulls the wearer into a twilight garden where flowers hum lullabies and the horizon shifts with each breath. It’s a dress that feels alive, like stepping into a storybook page that breathes, promising that the real world is just the prelude to a grand, endless dream.

A gown stitched from midnight itself, each star a tiny, glowing thread that sparkles brighter when you move, wrapped in moonlit lace that feels like velvet. Its hem whispers defiance, a secret promise that it won't just glow but shout back, calling out the ordinary and saying, “I’m not just a dress—I’m a rebellion in fabric.”