Mags sent us this email a while ago:

The white dinner jacket "tux" was fashionable in the 1930's. So why would Roxton be in a white dinner jacket if Season 3 is still part of the roaring twenties????

Thanks for the answer - :) Mags

The newsroom was all aflutter. What a great question! Why hadn’t we thought of that? How can we get this information? One of our hapless intern even dared to remind me – editor-in-chief and almighty publisher – that he had asked a similar question a couple of months ago. So I had ignored an intern’s opinion… don’t we all? Only our readers’ opinions really count!

We googled for a while to verify mags’ tuxedo/dinner jacket timeline and it looked like she was right indeed. 1922 was not yet a period when the white dinner jacket was in fashion. My overeager staff sent me thick manila folders full of theories, but I had already made up my mind. This required basic fashion investigation – we had to talk to Death, nothing else could satisfy our high journalistic standards.

Death was her usual sneaky self and offered a meeting in her realm. I sent two hapless interns (we have dozens of them hanging around here, one or two less never make a difference) to her realm to see whether it was safe to meet with her there. Not surprisingly our interns met a sad demise.

After some lengthy negotiations we finally agreed on a meeting place. You will certainly understand that I cannot reveal the exact location, as Death swore us to secrecy and had some very nasty threats for us in case of non-compliance. Needless to say, it was a very stylish place, where throughout the 20^th century many white dinner jackets had snuggled up to elegant evening gowns.

The meeting required extensive preparation. Through a shifting plane of reality Mr. Ramone left the Plateau and came to my house to style my hair. A long discussion ensued whether I should wear my hair in an upswept do or rather let my hair down. We finally all agreed that we could not give Death a strategic advantage by leaving the dramatic gesture of red hair being tossed back over an elegantly dressed shoulder to the Grim Reaper. She’s a redhead, I’m a redhead, this was all about creating a level playing field.

Mr. Ramone begged me to allow him to come along to the meeting with Death, as he wanted to find out what type of rollers she uses for her fetching curls. I decided to humor him, since I still need to get the secrets of Marguerite’s curl maintenance out of him.

I also decided to take three of our disposable interns in case Death needed to be placated by a victim or two. My assistant Lisa was the last member of our little group, carrying a big bag with a laptop and a yellow legal pad to make sure we had sufficient means of recording this historic event.

When my entourage and I arrived at secret location we could already see Death sitting at our center table. Next to her sat two skeletons. One of the interns piped up. “Aren’t these Marguerite and Roxton’s alien alter egos in their last stage of transformation? You know, from Skin Deep?” I was distracted for a moment by this imbecile statement and thundered. “EXCUSE ME??? Roxton’s alien twin NEVER transformed into a skeleton in Skin Deep!!! Your ignorance makes you unworthy of being an unpaid intern for the Fashion Plateau! Come back when you know your episodes! On second thought – don’t come back! I’d rather have an intern that can quote dialogue flawlessly.” The other two interns looked smug and superior and didn’t seem to feel sorry for their former colleague. Well, being part of an elite group has its perks…

But now back to Death - just like in her encounter with Lord John Roxton she wore a black stylish evening gown. Her lovely red hair was loose in a wavy style that met with fervent approval by Mr. Ramone. The interns oohed and ahhhed, when they saw Death. Easy to impress, obviously. I wore a charcoal-grey raw silk power suit with some stunning emerald jewelry as my impressive accessories. We sat down eying each other suspiciously. I ordered a Marguerite (1 part Orange Vodka, 1 part Passion Fruit Liqueur, shake and pour into martini glass) and heard Death mutter “cheap London baggage”. I snorted derisively and stared her down. She recovered quickly and ordered a Roxton (1 cup hot coffee, 1 jigger cinnamon vodka, 1 jigger Heather cream liqueur). I muttered “You wish!” and was met with an icy stare.

After our drinks were served we each took a sip, did some random red mane tossing and then finally went down to business.

“So, Death, how come Lord John Roxton wore a white dinner jacket in your realm, although it was not part of his Fashion timeline?” I started the conversation.

Death looked at me, as if I was completely daft.

“I am Death. I’m not bound by any timelines. Fashion or otherwise. I transcend time and space.” She retorted. A bit full of herself, if you ask me.

She tossed her red hair back and continued.

“I looked at the man, saw his lovely dark hair, his tanned skin and the cute dark stubble and decided that he needed some contrast. Yes, a regular black or midnight-blue tuxedo would have been more appropriate for the fashion timeline, but why stick to convention when you can create a most pleasing fashion experience?”

I have to admit I was speechless for a moment. Here we sat with Death, who we all had assumed was just a spoilsport who ended lives at the most inopportune times and instead we were talking to a Fashion visionary who dared to be bold when smaller minds would go for the safe fashion choice.

Behind me Mr. Ramone whimpered in admiration and the hapless interns next to me stared at Death with open mouths. I took a deep breath and kicked one intern on his shins.

“Are you writing that down?” I asked sternly.

The intern blushed and started to scribble furiously on the yellow legal pad. Next to him Lisa was typing up the meeting protocol on her laptop, making sure that not a single little detail was omitted.

I decided to enquire again: “So this wasn’t a fashion blooper, it was part of a bigger plan?”

Death nodded. “Yes, I don’t kid around in fashion matters, everything I wear or make my victims – I mean guests – wear, is part of a bigger plan. A vision. The style of Death and all who come to her realm. I have been watching Lord Roxton for quite a while and since we have already seen him wearing a black tuxedo -” “In Ned’s dream”, an intern whispered, trying to show off. Death glared at her, obviously not appreciating the interruption. “As I was saying, we know what he looks like in a black tux, so why repeat a fashion moment when you can create one that is completely original?”

I looked at the stunning redhead sitting at my table and couldn’t help wondering. Will this arbiter of fashion come back to haunt the Plateau?

“Death, one question remains – will you come back to haunt Roxton and the rest of the Treehouse family?”

“Is black a great color for redheads?” Death answered with a mischievous laugh, tossed back her long mane over her shoulder one last time and then she disappeared without a trace.

I looked around, hundreds of burning questions on my mind, but she was gone.

In my desperation I decided to recreate the emotional scene in the Treehouse when Marguerite is all alone, breaks down and drinks a whole bottle of wine. I don’t remember, how I got home to Seattle, but while I was recovering from the after-effects of ingesting an excellent Cabernet Sauvignon, Lisa and the interns finished the meeting protocol. After a day or two of rest to combat the effects of wine and jet lag I was ready to write this article, so I could tell the story of Death and the white dinner jacket to all friends of Plateau Fashion.

Mags, this one’s for you! We faced Death for you and we lived to tell you about it. Well, two interns didn’t, but as I said before - they are easily replaceable.