Wings in Her (Chapter 3 — Piecing A Dream Together)

Wings in Her (Chapter 3 — Piecing A Dream Together)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events is strictly coincidental. This work is not endorsed by any companies.

The Dinner and Dance was just two months away, and I was facing a dilemma that gnawed at me daily. Should I go the conventional route and dress as a pilot, or embrace my true desire and turn up as an air stewardess? Deep down, I knew I wanted to don the elegant uniform of the stewardess, but the thought of actually doing it filled me with both excitement and anxiety. My mind kept flipping back and forth, unable to settle on a choice. Finally, I decided to begin working on the air stewardess outfit. Even if it didn’t come together as I hoped, I could always fall back on the safer option and dress as a pilot — but I secretly wished I wouldn’t have to.

Being a guy makes pulling off the air stewardess look even more challenging, especially since I’m not aiming for a drag show or a comedic take — I want a passable version of an SGZ Air Stewardess. Fortunately, I have a secret weapon: my past as an avid cosplayer. During my teenage years, I was deeply immersed in the world of ACG (Anime, Comics, and Games), where I attended countless conventions fully transformed in elaborate cosplay Anime characters. And here’s the kicker: every character I portrayed was female. The charm and cuteness of female costumes always captivated me in a way male characters never could.

As a cosplayer, I honed my skills in wearing colored contact lenses, applying makeup, styling wigs, and even sewing. I devoured tutorials, mastering everything from precise eyeshadow application and sharp eyeliner to flawless contouring and lipstick. Though I gave up cosplaying five years ago when I entered the workforce, worried that my colleagues might stumble upon my secret hobby, I never parted with my tools. My makeup kit still lies untouched under my bed, waiting patiently after all these years — ready to help me bring my air stewardess vision to life for the Dinner and Dance.

The next hurdle is finding the uniform, and it proves to be an emotional roller coaster that tugs at my heartstrings. As a popular airline renowned for its impeccable service, Singa Airlines has inspired countless replicas of its iconic Air Stewardess uniform, available at most tourist shops. But those knock-offs are a far cry from the real thing. If I’m going to do this, I need the genuine SGZ Kebaya — the elegant, form-fitting, long-sleeved blouse paired with a sarong, crafted from luxurious batik fabric. Designed by the esteemed French designer Thierry Roussea in 1982, the SGZ Kebaya has become synonymous with the grace, tradition, and warm hospitality of Southeast Asia. This is what I must wear for the D&D.

My journey begins with a hopeful search online, my fingers trembling slightly as I type “SGZ Kebaya” into the portal for second-hand goods. When 34 results appear, my heart leaps with excitement — could one of these be my golden ticket? I eagerly scour the listings, eyes darting from one post to the next, desperately searching for the word “size.” The excitement builds, but so does the anxiety. My height of 1.7 meters and relatively slim build has always made finding the right fit a challenge. My cosplaying days taught me that while I could pull off certain looks, finding a female size L or XL that flatters my figure is no easy task.

With every scroll, my heart sinks a little further. “XS, S, M” seems to mock me, their tiny measurements a reminder of the airline’s stringent standards. Of course, Singa Airlines is known for selecting only those with the delicate, feminine silhouette required to truly embody the Kebaya’s tight, elegant lines. The brand has faced criticism from women’s rights groups for this controversial stance, but that does nothing to change my predicament. The more I search, the more I feel the dream slipping away, replaced by a gnawing sense of inadequacy.

One by one, I reached out to the sellers, clinging to the slim hope that one of them might have the perfect fit. Each exchange was a tense moment of anticipation, as I waited for the measurements that could make or break my dream. But with every message that came back, the crushing reality set in.

“32-inch bust,” one seller replied — too small. “Waist is 26 inches,” another said — impossible. “This Kebaya is tailored for a petite frame, sorry,” another message chimed in. Each set of measurements felt like a punch to the gut, a reminder that my dream might be slipping further away. Despite my polite inquiries and desperate pleas, the answers were always the same: too small, too tight, too narrow.

Some sellers even commented, almost apologetically, that finding a size larger than what they offered was nearly impossible. Their words echoed my growing despair, as if confirming that my hopes were nothing more than a naive fantasy.

As the days passed and the D&D drew closer, the ticking clock became a relentless reminder of my dwindling chances. Each hour felt like a step further from the vision I had so desperately clung to. The excitement that once fueled my search dwindled into a flicker, replaced by the cold reality that I might not be able to pull this off after all. My hope, once bright and bold, was now a fragile ember, and with each seller’s reply, it dimmed a little more, leaving me feeling dejected and defeated.

Then, a new idea sparked in my mind. Since the Kebayas are all custom-tailored, why not go straight to the source — the official tailors commissioned by the airline? It seemed like a long shot, but I was desperate. Surprisingly, getting the contacts for these exclusive tailors wasn’t difficult at all. With renewed hope, I reached out to each one, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and dread. But when they inevitably asked for my staff ID, and I explained that I wasn’t an employee of the airline, the responses were swift and cold: rejection after rejection.

My excitement began to wane, replaced by the familiar sting of disappointment. Every “no” felt like another door slamming shut, reminding me of the rigid exclusivity that surrounded the SGZ Kebaya. These tailors weren’t just craftsmen — they were gatekeepers to a symbol of prestige, one reserved only for the air stewardesses of Singa Airlines. It seemed that my dream would remain just that — a dream, barred by the very tradition I admired.

But then, out of the blue, one tailor replied differently. They didn’t ask for a staff ID. Instead, they invited me to come down for a fitting, as if my lack of affiliation with the airline didn’t matter. My heart leaped, a surge of excitement flooding my veins. Could this really be happening? Could I finally be on the brink of getting the elusive Kebaya tailored to my measurements?

Yet, as much as I wanted to celebrate, a knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. What if this was too good to be true? What if, after all this build-up, I was setting myself up for yet another disappointment? The thought lingered, dampening my excitement with a cautious edge. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. After a few more exchanges, we set a date for me to visit their shop and take measurements. For the first time in weeks, it felt like things might finally be turning in my favor, and I found myself teetering between exhilaration and apprehension, not daring to fully believe in this stroke of luck.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events is strictly coincidental. This work is not endorsed by any companies.