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Updated: May 22, 2025
Long curling silk lashes softened the piercing brilliancy of her large black eyes; her lips were full, and her teeth were very white. She had not yet made her toilet, but wore a velvet dressing-wrapper, which did not conceal the lace ruffles beneath. But she had already been under the hands of a hairdresser.
I might hint that the hair of our hero was worn short, combed smoothly over his forehead, and surmounted by a conical-shaped white flannel cap and tassels that his pea-green jerkin was not after the fashion of those worn by the common class of restaurateurs at that day that the sleeves were something fuller than the reigning costume permitted that the cuffs were turned up, not as usual in that barbarous period, with cloth of the same quality and colour as the garment, but faced in a more fanciful manner with the particoloured velvet of Genoa that his slippers were of bright purple, curiously filigreed, and might have been manufactured in Japan, but for the exquisite pointing of the toes, and the brilliant tints of the binding and embroidery that his breeches were of the yellow satin-like material called aimable that his sky-blue cloak, resembling in form a dressing-wrapper, and richly bestudded all over with crimson devices, floated cavaliery upon his shoulders like a mist of the morning and that his tout ensemble gave rise to the remarkable words of Benevenuta, the Improvisatrice of Florence, “that it was difficult to say whether Pierre Bon-Bon was indeed a bird of Paradise, or the rather a very Paradise of perfection.” I might, I say, expatiate upon all these points if I pleased, but I forbear; merely personal details may be left to historical novelists, they are beneath the moral dignity of matter-of-fact.
"Upon my word, Dorian, Miss Sibyl knows how to pay compliments." "You don't understand her, Harry. She regarded me merely as a person in a play. She knows nothing of life. She lives with her mother, a faded tired woman who played Lady Capulet in a sort of magenta dressing-wrapper on the first night, and looks as if she had seen better days." "I know that look.
Dressed in a long dressing-wrapper of pale-blue cashmere, her hair scarcely taken up at all, she was reading, reclining on a sofa. As the door opened, she raised herself carelessly a little, and, without turning around, asked, "Who is that?" But, when the servant announced the name of M. Champcey, she rose with a bound, almost terrified, dropping the book which she had in her hand.
She lives with her mother, a faded tired woman who played Lady Capulet in a sort of magenta dressing-wrapper on the first night, and who looks as if she had seen better days." "I know that look. It always depresses me." "The Jew wanted to tell me her history, but I said it did not interest me." "You were quite right. There is always something infinitely mean about other people's tragedies."
"Upon my word, Dorian, Miss Sibyl knows how to pay compliments." "You don't understand her, Harry. She regarded me merely as a person in a play. She knows nothing of life. She lives with her mother, a faded tired woman who played Lady Capulet in a sort of magenta dressing-wrapper on the first night, and looks as if she had seen better days." "I know that look.
Redbud, like most persons, was not fond of a sick-room; and after sending word, day after day, to our friend Verty who never failed to call twice at least, morning and evening that she was better, and better, the girl, one morning, declared to cousin Lavinia that she was well enough to put on her dressing-wrapper, and go down stairs.
And he added, with stammering incoherence, that the latter had gone out, and that he must have done so with the intention of escaping. Lisa, careless of appearances, at once hurried up to her brother-in-law's room in her dressing-wrapper, and took possession of La Normande's photograph, after glancing round to see if there was anything lying about that might compromise herself and Quenu.
I thought it odd he was not gone to bed, but took little notice of the matter for a couple of hours more, when it was just getting gray in the morning, and I looked out again, and still seeing the light, slipped on a dressing-wrapper and my slippers, and ran downstairs to tell him he would ruin his health if he did not go to his bed.
Then I wondered that I was not stiff, that I was not cold, for the night was chilly and I had nothing about me but a little velvet dressing-wrapper; and my neck was not stiff, though my head had been thrown back, as is a necessity in Communion with God; and I thought to myself, it is as if my body also had shared in the blessing.
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