“I never knew her to dress in any other way. She must have had hundreds of black dresses and scarves-though-in fact, a black and impetuous toque sometimes did duty for the scarf, This, however, was mainly on opening nights. She impressed me-she impresses me still-as one of the most curious, most loving, devious, ruthless, and single-minded people I have met in all my life. She was brilliantly and brutally manufactured: she had not grown into her present shape but had been hammered into it, or perhaps, as in some unspeakable vat, been lowered. Her hands were white and pudgy and soft. Yet, they were not without power, and the fingers were elegant. One felt that the pudginess of the hands was no more inevitable than the rings they bore-rather awful rings; that trapped within Lola San-Marquand, was a beautiful dying girl. But alas, fatally, overwhelmingly at last, one became aware of the odor of that corruption.”
James Baldwin, “Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone”, 1968.
A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity 