It was true, Marie happened to not be a witch - she was better with Cajun spice than she was with tarot; she'd supported herself in New Orleans, living above her grifting business and it had been pretty great. Every day when she woke up she heard the clip-clop of the horse-drawn carriages on the streets and the sounds of the calliope coming from the riverboats - but nothing she had done for her customers was real. At least her recipes, she knew those and stood behind the authenticity of them.
She snapped back to the present when Cece presented herself. "Ooh!" Marie was obviously pleased, applauding lightly. Work that (imaginary) runway, cherie. "Magnifique, suggie bee," she praised. "Yes, this is the one. And I hope you are still open to the idea of color...?"
Just some fun earrings or something, or bracelets, even shoes! It could happen.