Curb Girl: what an urban-based accidental journalist accidentally thinks
when she's falling face-first on figurative pavement
Sunday, November 16, 2008
It was usual for ladies who received in the evening to wear what were called "simple dinner-dresses"; a close-fitting armor of whale-boned silk, slightly open in the neck, with lace ruffles filling in the crack, and tight sleeves with a flounce uncovering just enough wrist to show an Etruscan gold bracelet or a velvet band. But Madame Olenska, heedless of tradition, was attired in a long robe of red velvet bordered about the chin and down the front with glossy black fur.