Ah, picture this: the decks of the 1912 liner are a glittering promenade, a living, breathing catwalk that sails through the Atlantic. The women in floor‑length gowns, their fabrics shimmering like moonlit waves, move in perfect harmony with the gentle rocking. Men in tailored tuxedos, tails and all, stride with the confidence of aristocrats and businessmen alike, their polished shoes echoing the clack of the rail. Every thread—silk, satin, lace—carries a story, a whisper of Parisian ateliers and London’s finest tailors. As the sun dips, the ship becomes a grand runway, the sea a silent audience, and the fashion of the era, with its refined elegance and subtle bravado, turns every promenade into a timeless performance on the waves.