An alluvium of jade velvet can be seen swirling throughout the jar, occasionally catching a glimmer of sunlight. When shaken, the contents appear torn and tattered by the turbulence, yet eventually return to their stable, undifferentiated flow.

This fluid is meant to be painted onto bare flesh, at which point it reacts to the warmth and thickens into shape. To say that it is worn is not entirely accurate; it is more correct to say that it becomes the outermost layer of the body that wears it. Together, skin and garment merge into something new: a free-flowing, homogeneous form. The result is beautiful, yet alien: arms hang from themselves as long, flowing sleeves; soft, viridian lapels rise from the bosom’s edge and join at the sternum’s base. Nakedness becomes simultaneously inescapable and impossible- the self and its expression are made one.

Of course, skin isn’t the only surface of the human body; it is but a fraction of that which is folded and twisted just beyond sight. For those brave enough to take advantage of this truth, liquid velvet can also be ingested, initiating an even more radical metamorphosis. The organs soften and lose their moisture, becoming tender purses of strange chemistry. Everything from the drinker’s eyes on down to their bones is in some way affected. As the fabric enters the bloodstream, it transmutes the very veins that it flows through, altering their color and texture while preserving their natural function. 

Once this transformative process has been initiated, it cannot be reversed. The exposed fabric bleeds when cut, then heals and scars like any other flesh, and sometimes even requires stitches (like any other flesh). While some never grow comfortable with this aspect of their mutation, others embrace it, and have buttons and zippers installed to allow access to their exquisite, redesigned interiors. Surgeons and tailors alike perform alterations at every level of anatomy, yet there are procedures that even the most skilled among them will never attempt. It’s not uncommon for those driven to obsession by years spent under the velvet’s influence to demand that their own brains be trimmed into a more desirable shape.

To unzip flesh is one thing; to unzip a weapon is another. The Understeel awaits just beneath.

Meticulous design of the inner self is also central to the forbidden art of Pygmalionics.

In theory, Hypercube Perfume would allow those who drink liquid velvet to change their wardrobe.