When I first wrote Magic Most Deadly, I had intended Julia to be Maia’s friend-and-sidekick throughout the series, but when that book ended with (mild spoiler) Maia trotting off to London while Julia stayed in Hertfordshire, I realized that was not going to work. So when I started Glamours and Gunshots, I knew I needed a new friend for Maia … but I also knew I wanted her to be a well-rounded character in her own right, not simply a foil for Maia, but a person with her own interests and pursuits, who could easily have been the protagonist of her own story had circumstances been different. I also wanted her to be quite different from Maia so that their personalities could balance and complement each other.
And thus was born Helen Radcliffe, a magician born of one of England’s oldest and most respected magical families, someone who (unlike Maia) had grown up steeped in the world of magic from the time it had blossomed in her, and whose struggle at the time of this story was in trying to reconcile her passion (blending magic with fashion and clothing design) with her mother’s expectations for her career–for in England, it is rare for any magician not to have a career, whether they be female or male. There may be differing opinions on what careers are most appropriate for the different genders, but mostly one’s career is determined on one’s magical bent and abilities … and sometimes one’s family’s expectations.
Helen has a keen eye for fashion design and a knack for using common magics in unique ways. Glamours, a image laid over reality that only other magicians can see, tend to be used mostly for disguise or children’s entertainment. Helen weaves glamours into clothing to … well, I don’t want to give too much away, but here’s the passage where she and Maia first discuss the possibilities of fashion magic:
“Oh, I’ve even thought of having clothing that tells a story only to other magicians, with a glamour–an overlay in the color of one’s own magical aura, showing significant events in one’s life or symbols of one’s magical specialty.”
image courtesy of the MFA, Boston. Imagine the overlay to be woven through with magical light rather than being plain lace, and you’ll have a fairly decent idea of what Helen is describing.
Helen also says:
“Imagine, Maia, a gown which changes color based on how one wants to appear–if you were cheerful, for example, you could make it yellow, and if you wanted to be more somber you could change it to navy blue with a spoken word. Or one that enhances your natural charms. Or, well, anything! A dress with embroidered birds on it who really sing, or trees and vines,” motioning to the design on the hem of Maia’s skirt, “that show fruit in autumn, flowers in spring, and leaves in autumn. The possibilities are endless.”
I can’t find the proper attribution for this image; my hunch is that it’s from the Met but I can’t confirm that. In any case, this is a good example of the type of embroidery that Helen would bring to life with her magic.
(both passages from Glamours and Gunshots, page 56)
Maia, though far from interested in fashion herself, is quick to see the brilliance in this, and encourages Helen to follow her passion and prove to the world–and, more importantly, her mother–just how impressive fashion magic can be.
Later in Death by Disguise we learn that Helen has started using magic in more practical ways as well as spectacular when it comes to clothing magic–Maia has every traveler’s dream, clothing that folds to the size of a pocket handkerchief and when unfolded has no wrinkles. When discussing the practical aspects of this with some fans online, we all started brainstorming other ideas that haven’t (yet) made it to the page: self-darning stockings and other knits, spells to keep dirt away from one’s clothes, self-folding clothes (something everyone who has ever done laundry longs for, I think–imagine taking perfectly folded clothes out of the dryer!), and so on.
The trick with all of this, of course, is that magic, as part of the natural world, only works on natural fibers–nothing synthetic. As this is the 1920s, many of the fabrics generally used in clothing are beginning to the move away from all-natural (linen, cotton, silk, etc), to part-natural or wholly synthetic (rayon, for example–derived of natural materials but treated with a chemical process such as renders it nearly wholly artificial so far as magic is concerned). It isn’t a problem for Helen right now, as this movement from natural to synthetic is in its earliest stages, but the astute reader can guess that in the next several decades this could become a much more serious issue. Which might even lead to some pondering on what happens to magic in a world that is increasingly removed from nature and focused on synthetics …
But for now, Helen’s business is thriving as her imagination and talents allow her to explore ever-more fascinating aspects of blending magic, fashion, and practicality. Where will it take her next? That, my friends, is a story for another time!
This is a vintage pattern from the 1920s–see the fabric draping from the shoulders on the green dress? Imagine that fabric instead being living light, and imagine the entire thing being able to be folded to the size of a pocket handkerchief, and you’ll see what sort of dinner dress Maia had packed for her trip to Cambridge.
