I'm coming in late for the August Inkling Explorations, but as Heidi gave us permission to do so, I am determined that I shall not react in my typical fashion and apologize for my tardiness. No apologies this time folks. I am NOT sorry. ('Cause after all, why should I be? There's no reason I should be sorry, is there? Is there? Well, if there is, then I suppose I could...) (We'll, continue on while the over-thinking half of my brain tries to figure out whether I should be sorry or not. *wink*)
Anyhow, here's the link to Heidi's blog for more details on this monthly event! Don't hesitate to join if you have a mind to. (If I can be late, so can you! Please. Keep me company. :P)
The subject for this month is: The description of a lady's dress in literature.
So I racked my brain for an extraordinarily long time trying to come up with an impressive and detailed description of a lady's dress, but sadly (which is just my luck) I couldn't think of one. So finally I fell back on my old stand-by and chose a passage from Little Women. It's actually describing two women's/girl's dresses, so I hope that's not bending the rules too far. :P And if it is, well...
I'll just give you my most charming grin in hopes that it will charm away all responsibility regarding this matter, and let me comfortably off the hook.
Now to get back to my story... (or, rather, Louisa May Alcott's story, but you know what I mean.)
After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last, and by the united exertions of the family Jo's hair was got up and her dress on. They looked very well in their simple suits, -- Meg in silvery drab, with a blue velvet snood, lace frills, and the pearl pin; Jo in maroon, with a stiff, gentlemanly collar, and a white chrysanthemum or two for her only ornament. Each put on one nice light glove, and carried one soiled one, and all pronounced the effect "quite easy and fine." Meg's high-heeled slippers were very tight, and hurt her, though she would not own it, and Jo's nineteen hair-pins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable; but, dear me, let us be elegant or die!
Isn't Louisa May Alcott's writing splendid?
Assuming that you've read some of her books, which one would you consider your favorite?