Elina didn't quite understand the fashion of this era. In the modern world, fashion changes every year, even every month, but here, it was clear that fashion didn't change as quickly.
In 19th-century Lunton, the queen was the trendsetter, and the nobility followed her lead, while the middle class longed to imitate the fashion of the upper society. In contrast, the working and poor classes were struggling just to survive, let alone follow fashion trends. Therefore, in order to boost sales, women's magazines naturally leaned toward mimicking the queen's attire.
*Ladies' Monthly* was still a baby magazine, only half a year old, and much like other women's magazines, it featured gossip about high society, fashionable dresses, novels, and miscellaneous articles. Each issue included eight pages of color illustrations dedicated to discussing the latest fashion trends.
She flipped through the illustrations in the magazine, carefully selecting the ones she liked and taking notes.
Unlike the previously luxurious and romantic Rococo and Baroque-style fashions, the current fashion was more classical and elegant, resembling modern French high-waisted dresses. These dresses were simple, with delicate lace and ribbons only around the chest, shoulders, and hems. Because the clothes were so simple, carefully crafted accessories like hats and jewelry stood out, becoming highly noticeable.
This was perfect for paper dolls. Each illustration could be broken down into components like dresses, stockings and shoes, hair and headpieces or hats, and accessories. Since they were made of paper, the parts couldn't be too small, or they would be hard to cut out.
The illustrations in the magazine were very intricate, with fine lace and pleats printed on the dresses, which made Elina feel that if she sold them too cheaply, it would be a loss.
Was there any way to price it a bit higher?
"…Trading cards?" Yet another Thursday, Duke Berkeley was examining the exquisite cards in his hand, looking quite puzzled. "What is this?"
"I asked the butler to send a letter to the editorial office; they've released the first batch of trading cards," Elina explained succinctly.
The first batch of cards included twelve outfits she had selected, ranging from morning robes to day dresses, afternoon dresses, and evening gowns. The back of each card featured a common pattern, while the front displayed a different outfit, with a brief introduction beneath and a large "R" character.
"R? What does that mean?" Duke Berkeley, having been away for only a week, already felt out of touch with the times.
"Rare," Elina had to explain. "I think the paper dolls need to be affordable so they can be widely distributed, but cheap means they are hard to make a profit. So I designed these cards. For each set of paper dolls…" She took out a small booklet and pulled out a page. On it was a lady in sleepwear, surrounded by two outfits. "Each purchase will come with a random card."
"You think people will buy more paper dolls just to collect the cards?" The Duke was starting to understand, but still skeptical. "Will anyone really buy something they don't need just to collect cards?"
"Just the cards alone might not work," Elina shrugged, running her fingers over the card's image of a girl. "But her name is Helen. She grew up in the countryside, and one day, after an accident, it was discovered that she was switched at birth. She's actually the child of a noble family. When she returns to her real family, she finds out her biological parents want to adopt her out as their daughter to keep up appearances…"
That's right. Elina had spent a whole week brainstorming and decided to base her card story on a plot that was sweeping the modern world—**the switched-at-birth trope**!
It was a bit of a stretch, but what else could she do? She really wanted to sell those paper dolls.
Her mind had also considered other dramatic plotlines, like stand-ins, chasing after an ex, running away with a child, or the return of a dragon king, but after carefully considering the era's context and the audience, she settled on "switched-at-birth" to test the waters.
At the time, there were many different kinds of novels on the market. Broadly speaking, they could be divided into four categories. Historical and realist novels were favored by men, gothic novels were popular among the working class due to their low price, and romantic novels were beloved by middle-class women.
Romantic novels themselves had different subgenres. Since the beginning of the century, sentimental novels had taken over Lunton, and Elina had secretly read a few in her spare time. They were full of "blushing cheeks," "wet eyes," and typically ended with two possible outcomes: either the kind and melancholic heroine tragically died, or her virtue was rewarded with a happy marriage.
If compared to modern novels, they might be a blend of the Qiong Yao style and teenage angst literature. They all unconditionally glorified love. No wonder *The Tragic Love Story* was so popular.
Sentimental novels had caused some concern in society, with many fearing they led women to unrealistic expectations of love and marriage, making them more likely to be disappointed in their relationships.
To counter this, writers started publishing moralizing novels about young girls—often orphans—who resisted the temptation of bad men, with one of them eventually finding a reliable man to marry, like a Cinderella story.
Fashion, after all, is cyclical. While there wasn't yet a fully developed "switched-at-birth" plot, the popular tropes of the past never really disappeared; they just evolved and adapted with each era, always holding onto their core elements.
The main reason for using the switched-at-birth trope was that it sounded very noble, which fit perfectly with the personas in *Ladies' Monthly*.
Though the trading cards would sell because of their appealing design, it was the story behind them that would determine how many they would sell.
"…She finds that her behavior doesn't match the aristocracy, and her parents refuse to acknowledge her as their daughter," Elina continued, speaking rapidly. She took a sip of her red tea, feeling dry in the mouth. Duke Berkeley, visibly enraged, said, "How could they do that to their own daughter? It's not her fault!"
"They're bankrupt, and the noble title is the only thing left that has value," Elina explained casually. She pulled out a piece of cream-colored paper with floral decorations from her writing desk. It contained the plot summary and the first 10,000 words of the story.
The writing desk wasn't just a regular desk; it was a wooden box with a slanted lid, containing various compartments lined with green velvet. It held feather pens, a letter opener, steel scissors, ink powder, ink bottles, and, of course, the paper dolls and trading cards. There were also hidden compartments with a little emergency cash.
Duke Berkeley skimmed through the paper, his eyes widening. "You've even prepared this much?"
After a full week of preparation, Elina had considered every detail. She also had more ideas, like how the R-grade cards could have SR (super rare) and N (normal) versions. She planned to release SR cards in blind boxes once the switched-at-birth story had attracted readers. These SR paper dolls would not only have more intricate outfits, but also brighter and rarer colors, with a lower probability of being obtained.
The N-grade outfits would be simpler, with just a dress and a hat, perhaps in black and white or just one or two colors to reduce printing steps and costs. N-grade paper dolls could be printed in newspapers, flyers, and advertisements, and collecting ten dolls would allow someone to exchange them for a full-color card. As for the exchange location, she hadn't figured that part out yet.
Duke Berkeley finished reading the page, his expression complex. "This is…" He struggled to find the right word. "…Impressive."
"What?" Elina was confused.
"It's impressive writing," Duke Berkeley said, carefully choosing his words. "It's almost like it's manipulating my emotions. When I read about Helen being rejected by her parents, I felt so angry, but when she fought back, I felt a sense of relief. It's amazing."
Elina smiled slightly, not forgetting her goal. "So, what do you think?"
"This story could definitely be published in *Ladies' Monthly*," Duke Berkeley said confidently, picking up a trading card. "It looks simple, but very easy to imitate. I think I can offer some help with the design. Your plan is great, but maybe we should aim bigger."
"I'm more worried about costs," Elina admitted. She hadn't seen more than 200 pounds since she arrived here.
Duke Berkeley leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "My dear, you don't need to worry about costs. We're in Lunton, with hundreds of publishing houses. If we don't establish our position quickly, countless imitators will drown us."
"Twelve sets aren't enough," he said briefly, picking up the paper with the paper dolls. "Each page should have at least three sets of outfits, and each piece of clothing should be mix-and-matchable with others without looking awkward. We can bind four pages into a booklet, and each booklet will have twelve sets. For the first batch, let's print three booklets, so thirty-six sets of clothes. We can package them in envelopes, and include trading cards and single-page stories. The price should be around two or three pennies."
"We should also pick twelve simple outfits for a black-and-white booklet, which could cost half a penny. I think that should be cheap enough."
While he was talking, Elina had already found the ink powder in the desk's envelope and mixed it with vinegar to create ink.
Cheap ink gave a brownish hue to the letters, making them look like rust. This was the difference in ink formulas, and she had tried several before settling on this one.
She had two feather pens: one made from a swan feather, which wrote bigger letters, and the other from a raven feather, which was finer. The feathers needed to be trimmed and sharpened before use, and Elina had mastered this skill.
She dipped the pen in the ink, and the smooth stroke of her hand recorded Duke Berkeley's words on the page. "Forty-eight sets? Maybe we can turn this into a series."
"Find some scenes from your story," Duke Berkeley said. "For example, Helen's first meeting with her parents, or her debut appearance…"
Elina nodded and summarized, "It all depends on the story's popularity."
"It will be popular," Duke Berkeley said confidently. "You don't know how curious the people of Lunton are about high society, especially with such…dramatic plots."
No matter the era, people's thirst for gossip never seemed to fade.
"Should I design the paper doll outfits?" Elina asked, looking troubled. She wasn't a noblewoman and had no experience in fashion, so she felt out of place in this task.
Duke Berkeley rested his head in his hands, elbows on the mahogany desk. "I'd love to pass it off to *Ladies' Monthly*, as they specialize in this. But the people in our club need this work. Maybe they can win the favor of the goddess of beauty."
He also hoped that the other peers could make their appearances less obvious and reduce their exposure.
"We're not sure if we can handle this work," Elina said politely. "I'm already one of the best at the club."
"The best is what I want," Duke Berkeley winked at her. "I completely trust your taste. If it doesn't work out, we can always send it to *Ladies' Monthly*."
"Don't worry," he reassured her when she didn't respond. "Even if we lose, I can afford it. It's just a small amount of money. Any painting hanging here probably costs more than the investment in these paper dolls."
Elina wasn't sure whether to be angry or relieved.