Romilda had been intrigued by the flyer she'd seen. Wizarding pubs as a rule tended to be horribly dull, but a Speakeasy night? Well that took some imagination. And it might draw a crowd of the right kind of people. Not those horrible, nasty sick people, she thought with a shudder. But it was an occasion for her to dress up and be admired. She slipped into her frock, which wasn't exactly true to the period, but was close enough and — most importantly — couture (Betsey Johnson 2001 Fall Ready-to-Wear collection). With the addition of a pair of black patent leather Christian Louboutin heels (they were her guaranteed pulling shoes; something about the red soles made blokes think about sex), and a full length fur coat, she was confident that she would be the most fashionable person there.
As usual, she thought to herself. The Wizarding world simply did not have style. If her love potion line didn't take off, she could always make a fortune bringing Muggle style to those pathetic witches who wore shapeless robes all day.
Romilda stepped inside the club, and exhaled a ring of smoke before she sat down at a table, shrugging off her coat. She noticed that Seamus Finnegan was here already. Interesting. She wondered if he could be...persuaded...