"You mean, they didn't wear black?" Urquhart said.
He'd been to a fashion event once. Those people were forever at each other's throat. But he'd turned down the commission in the end. With that sort of drama, the client would be bawling with regrets before the corpse was cold.
And everybody had worn black, in one way or another. How on earth were you to pick out a single person from a crowd like that?
He understood the principles of not trying to compete with the actual fashion (unless by means of drama), but it made doing a decent job damn near impossible.