A Quote by Gail Carriger

I believe the defining moment was when certain persons, who shall remain nameless, objected to my fuchsia silk striped waistcoat. I loved that waistcoat. I put my foot down, right then and there; I do not mind telling you!" To punctuate his deeply offended feelings, he stamped one silver-and-pearl-decorated high heel firmly. "No one tells me what I can and cannot wear!" He snapped up a lace fan from where it lay on a hall table and fanned himself vigorously with it for emphasis.
I have always been a big rock fan and remember dressing up as Guns N' Roses' Axl Rose for my high school Halloween disco when I was 17. My teacher painted tattoos on, and I wore a small leather waistcoat and not much else.
I have a closet full of blazers and more striped shirts than any human could possibly wear. Somehow I think that I don't have striped shirts, and then I look at my closet and go, 'Oh, I have ten.' But then you always end up with your favourite striped shirt of the moment, and you don't end up wearing any of the other ones.
I am not sure I will ever wear a waistcoat again, frankly!
One famous movie executive, who shall remain nameless, exposed himself to me in his office. 'Mr X,' I said, 'I thought you were a producer, not an exhibitor.'
One famous movie executive who shall remain nameless, exposed himself to me in his office. 'Mr X,' I said, 'I thought you were a producer not an exhibitor'.
Knitwear can play a vital part in layering. The simplicity of a lightweight cardigan makes it one of the best ways to layer outfits. I love granddad cardis for winter, worn over a vintage lace shirt, waistcoat and full skirt with slouchy boots.
What is sexual in a high heel is the arch of the foot, because it is exactly the position of a woman's foot when she orgasms... So putting your foot in a heel, you are putting yourself in a possibly orgasmic situation.
When we ponder that vast throng who have died honorably defending home and hearth, we contemplate those immortal words, 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' The feelings of heartfelt gratitude for the supreme sacrifice made by so many cannot be confined to a Memorial Day, a military parade, or a decorated grave.
My parents keep telling me to be thick-skinned in the industry. They tell me how people will put you up on a high platform and then bring you down. They also tell me to not believe in the image created by the hype.
""Dear girl," continued Bob advancing with an imbecile grin upon his countenance, which he imagined no doubt to be a seductive smile, "fly with me! Be mine! Share with me the wild free life of a barrister! Say that you return the love which consumes my heart - oh, say it!" Here Bob put his hand over a hole in his waistcoat and struck a dramatic attitude.
I've been caught in parachute pants. And on my high school yearbook, they used the wrong picture. They were supposed to use the picture of me with a nice suit on. They used me with my collar flipped up, in a fuchsia and white striped shirt. I blame Prince and Michael Jackson in the Eighties for that.
I usually put on a lip and some mascara before I head out of the house. It makes me feel good. I started experimenting with makeup back in high school. One of my friends, who shall remain nameless, shoplifted a bunch of drugstore cosmetics for me, and I would just play with it in my room at night.
I am a neat hand at cookery, and I'll tell you what I knocked up for my Christmas-eve dinner in the Library Cart. I knocked up a beefsteak-pudding for one, with two kidneys, a dozen oysters, and a couple of mushrooms thrown in. It's a pudding to put a man in good humour with everything, except the two bottom buttons of his waistcoat.
here was the secret of happiness, about which philosophers had disputed for so many ages, at once discovered; happiness might now be bought for a penny, and carried in the waistcoat-pocket; portable ecstasies might be had corked up in a pint-bottle; and peace of mind could be sent down by the mail.
The wardrobe? It was so full of gowns that he didn't think he could cram himself inside. Besides, it would be awkward if the maid came in to lay out a gown for dinner and grabbed Oliver instead of the blue silk with lace sleeves.
Blue does not go with everything," Will told her. "It does not go with red, for instance." "I have a red and blue striped waistcoat," Henry interjected, reaching for the peas. "And if that isn't proof that those two colors should never be seen together under Heaven, I don't know what is.
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