Dresses Quotes

Quotes tagged as "dresses" Showing 1-30 of 45
Coco Chanel
“Dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman.”
Coco Chanel

Yves Saint-Laurent
“Over the years I have learned that what is important in a dress is the woman who is wearing it.”
Yves Saint Laurent

Isabel Wolff
“What I really love about them... is the fact that they contain someone's personal history...I find myself wondering about their lives. I can never look at a garment... without thinking about the woman who owned it. How old was she? Did she work? Was she married? Was she happy?... I look at these exquisite shoes, and I imagine the woman who owned them rising out of them or kissing someone...I look at a little hat like this, I lift up the veil, and I try to imagine the face beneath it... When you buy a piece of vintage clothing you're not just buying the fabric and thread - you're buying a piece of someone's past.”
Isabel Wolff, A Vintage Affair

Alfred Tennyson
“And down I went to fetch my bride:
But, Alice, you were ill at ease;
This dress and that by turns you tried,
Too fearful that you should not please.
I loved you better for your fears,
I knew you could not look but well;
And dews, that would have fall'n in tears,
I kiss'd away before they fell.”
Alfred Lord Tennyson

Dia Reeves
“It's easier to be careful in dresses. You have to be or you end up flashing your underclothes or destroying beautiful fabric. Dresses force you to be on guard.”
Dia Reeves, Bleeding Violet

Shan Sa
“To other women the choice of clothes was a form of ingenious exhibition, a shameless seduction. To me, dresses were like a breastplate that I put on to set off to war against this life.”
Shan Sa, Empress

Philip Reeve
“The Scriven men wore stack-heeled boots and pearl-studded evening coats; the ladies in their vast skirts looked like mythical creatures, half woman, half sofa.”
Philip Reeve, Fever Crumb

Irwin Shaw
“When I think of New York City, I think of all the girls, the Jewish girls, the Italian girls, the Irish, Polack, Chinese, German, Negro, Spanish, Russian girls, all on parade in the city. I don't know whether it's something special with me or whether every man in the city walks around with the same feeling inside him, but I feel as though I'm at a picnic in this city. I like to sit near the women in the theaters, the famous beauties who've taken six hours to get ready and look it. And the young girls at the football games, with the red cheeks, and when the warm weather comes, the girls in their summer dresses . . .”
Irwin Shaw, Short Stories of Irwin Shaw

Irwin Shaw
“I'm older now, I'm a man getting near middle age, putting on a little fat and I still love to walk along Fifth Avenue at three o'clock on the east side of the street between Fiftieth and Fifty-seventh streets, they're all out then, making believe they're shopping, in their furs and their crazy hats, everything all concentrated from all over the world into eight blocks, the best furs, the best clothes, the handsomest women, out to spend money and feeling good about it, looking coldly at you, making believe they're not looking at you as you go past.”
Irwin Shaw, Short Stories of Irwin Shaw

Menna van Praag
“They're sitting on the floor in A Stitch in Time, surrounded on all sides by dresses of every imaginable color. Cora realizes as she glances around, her gaze flitting quickly from one wall to the next, that Etta has arranged them like the seasons: sparkling whites, grays, blacks for winter; shimmering greens and blues for spring; pinks and purples for summer; reds, oranges and yellows for autumn. Together they are breathtaking, almost too bright if stared at for too long, like falling through a rainbow lit by the sun.”
Menna van Praag, The Dress Shop of Dreams

Ilse Aichinger
“I wish to learn silence from the dark woods, the unused middle rooms, from the girls in their white dresses,”
Ilse Aichinger, Verschenkter Rat. Gedichte

Amit Kalantri
“Every girl should have at least two things, fun and fashion.”
Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

Georgette Heyer
“Eugenia never wears modish gowns. She says there are more important things to think of than one's dresses."
"What a stupid thing to say!" remarked Sophy. "Naturally there are, but not, I hold, when one is dressing for dinner.”
Georgette Heyer, The Grand Sophy

Girdhar Joshi
“Women are women…How can they ignore their bodies, their looks, and above all, their dresses!”
Girdhar Joshi, Some Mistakes Have No Pardon

Enock Maregesi
“Siku ya kwanza dhambi ya kwanza ilipotendwa Mungu alitoa kafara ya kwanza ya wanyama kwa ajili ya wazazi wetu wa kwanza Adamu na Hawa. Adamu na Hawa walikuwa uchi, baada ya kutenda dhambi, Mungu akawalaani lakini akawapa uwezo wa muda mfupi wa kutubu dhambi zao ili awasamehe! Kutokana na ngozi za wanyama hao walipata mavazi na kutokana na damu ya wanyama hao walipata fursa ya kuishi na kutubu dhambi zote walizozitenda. Bila hivyo wasingepata muda wa kusamehewa.”
Enock Maregesi

Sarah Addison Allen
“When Paxton was a teenager, her friends had even envied her relationship with her mother. Everyone knew that neither Paxton nor Sophia scheduled anything on Sunday afternoons, because that was popcorn-and-pedicures time, when mother and daughter sat in the family room and watched sappy movies and tried out beauty products. And Paxton could remember her mother carrying dresses she'd ordered into her bedroom, almost invisible behind tiers of taffeta, as they'd planned for formal dances. She'd loved helping Paxton pick out what to wear. And her mother had exquisite taste. Paxton could still remember dresses her mother wore more than twenty-five years ago. Imprinted in her memory were shiny blue ones, sparkly white ones, wispy rose-colored ones.”
Sarah Addison Allen, The Peach Keeper

Lisa Kleypas
“The pink?" she suggested, holding the shimmering rose-colored satin in front of Sara's half-clad figure. Sara held her breath in awe. She had never worn such a sumptuous creation. Silk roses adorned the sleeves and hem of the gown. The short-waisted bodice was finished with a stomacher of silver filigree and a row of satin bows.
Lily shook her head thoughtfully. "Charming, but too innocent."
Sara suppressed a disappointed sigh. She couldn't imagine anything more beautiful than the pink satin. Busily Monique discarded the gown and sorted through the others. "The peach. No man will be able to keep his eyes from her in that. Here, let us try it, chérie."
Raising her arms, Sara let the dressmaker and her assistant Cora pull the gauzy peach-hued gown over her head. "I think it will have to be altered a great deal," Sara commented, her voice muffled beneath the delicate layers of fabric. The gowns had been fitted for Lily's lithe, compact lines. Sara was more amply endowed, with a generous bosom and curving hips, and a tiny, scoped-in waist... a figure style that had been fashionable thirty years ago. The current high-waisted Grecian mode was not particularly flattering to her.
Monique settled the gown around Sara's feet and then began to yank the back of it together. "Oui, Lady Raiford has the form that fashion loves." Energetically, she hooked the tight bodice together. "But you, chérie, have the kind that men love. Draw in your breath, s'il vous plaît."
Sara winced as her breasts were pushed upward until they nearly overflowed from the low-cut bodice. The hem of the unusually full skirt was bordered with three rows of graduated tulip-leaves. Sara could hardly believe the woman in the mirror was herself. The peach gown, with its transparent layers of silk and shockingly low neckline, had been designed to attract a man's attention. It was too loose at the waist, but her breasts rose from the shallow bodice in creamy splendor pushed together to form an enticing cleavage.”
Lisa Kleypas, Dreaming of You

Jessica Tom
“I turned my attention to three dresses that were definitely not made for dining. They were going-out things, dancing looks. One was a swingy black dress made of a wet suit-like material, with a high neck and stiff A-line skirt. Alexander McQueen. Another was a red Gucci with little loops of textured fringe. It should have looked Elmo-like, but the sophisticated shape overrode the thought. I twisted the dress on the hanger, and the skirt rose and fell like the swelling of the ocean. The last dress was surprisingly heavy even though it was the shortest, narrowest, lowest-cut garment in that day's shipment. The tag said Hervé Léger and the dress was ribbed like a mummy, a very tight, shiny, green-and-gold mummy.”
Jessica Tom, Food Whore: A Novel of Dining and Deceit

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Darius Cordell

Elin Hilderbrand
“She pulled out a blue dress made of washed silk that was so soft it felt like skin. Size six. There was another dress in a champagne color- the same cut, very simple, a slip dress to just above the knee. There was a third outfit- a tank and skirt in the same silk, bottle green.
"These are for me?"
"Let's see how they look."
She took the bag into the ladies' room and slipped the blue dress on over her bikini. It fell over Adrienne's body like a dress in a dream- and it would look even better when she had the right underwear. So here was her look. She checked the side of the shopping bag. The clothes had come from a store called Dessert, on India Street, and Adrienne recognized the name of the store as the one owned by the chef's wife, the redhead who had been so kind during soft opening. If you come in, I'd love to dress you, free of charge. So maybe Thatch didn't pay for these clothes. Still, it was weird. Weird that Thatcher had told her she needed a look, weird that he (or the redhead) had perfectly identified it, and weird that she now had to model it for him, proving him right. She stepped out into the dining room.
He gazed at her. And then he gave a long, low whistle. That did it: Her face heated up, the skin on her arms tingled. She had never felt so desirable in all her life.”
Elin Hilderbrand, The Blue Bistro

Martine Bailey
“She went alone to the vast room where the second-hand clothes were kept. Later, she thought it the happiest hour of her life. There were silks and brocades by the yard, and pile upon pile of hats, wigs, cloaks, and masks. After two years in wretched rags, even the linen shifts felt as soft as thistledown. She whirled from one delight to another- clutching lace, burying her nose in furs, holding flashy paste jewels next to her new-bleached skin.
Catching her reflected eye in the mirror she laughed out loud, her red mouth wide and knowing. She put aside a few carefully-chosen costumes and elbow-length mittens. Then, finally, she chose a few costumes of a particular nature: shiny satin, ebony black.
Lastly, she gathered the garments she would wear for her journey: a grass-green woolen gown and a lace cap and apron. The effect was somewhat grand for a domestic servant. Her auburn locks were pinned tightly, her figure flattered by a frilled muslin kerchief, crisscrossed in an 'X' over her breast. Pulling out a few auburn tendrils from her cap, she adjusted her bodice to show a little more flesh. Then she grew very still, and smiled slowly into the empty space before her.
"How do you do, sir," she said with a graceful curtsy. "Now, what pretty dish might you care for tonight?”
Martine Bailey, A Taste for Nightshade

Martine Bailey
“In ten minutes Peg had returned with a bundle of stuff. She washed her mistress's rat-tails at the stand, and then tucked her back into freshly laundered sheets. Enticing pattern books and journals lay across the coverlet. To Peg's satisfaction, her mistress began to leaf through The Lady's Magazine.
"Your hair has a natural wave." Peg snipped at the ends with the scissors from her chatelaine, curling them into charming spirals. "Would you care for this style?" She held up an illustration of the "Grecian Manner", and deftly wound a bandeau of blue ribbon around her mistress's crown and temple. When Mrs. Croxon lifted the mirror, her face softened. She turned her head from left to right, admiring her reflection.
"Now see that ribbon. That is the color you must have for your new gowns. Forget-me-not, and that pistachio color, they are all fashion. Forget those paces and daffodils.”
Martine Bailey, A Taste for Nightshade

Auston Habershaw
“The proclamation had been very clear: All eligible maidens were to attend. All. High or low estate, fat or thin, short or tall, one leg or two. In one week's time, the prince was going to pick a pretty girl from the crowd and make a princess of her. To most women in the kingdom, it was as though God had extended His hand to them.

But not to the seamstresses.

To old Clara Le Dure, it seemed the king had decided this was the week she ought to die. He was personally seeing to it that she should stitch herself into oblivion.”
Auston Habershaw, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, January/February 2020

Micheline Ryckman
“The princess was dressed in one of the girl’s modest gray frocks, a leather belt secured snugly at her waist. Somehow, the lady managed to make even the simple garment look regal.”
Micheline Ryckman, The Maiden Ship

Jen Calonita
“Rains is now clutching her chest, her face full of panic.
What if some worthy prince sees Amber before me and is smitten? What if my future rule comes down to this moment, and I've already blown it? She begins to hyperventilate.
I fan her with the wide sleeve of my dress. It's going to be fine.”
Jen Calonita, Misfits

Susan Holloway Scott
“I wore a blue silk Brunswick jacket, close-fitting and edged with dark fur, and a matching petticoat, both quilted with a pattern of diamonds and swirling flowers. My gloves were bright green kidskin, and on my head I wore the one extravagant hat I'd brought, the sweeping brim covered in black velvet and crowned with a profusion of scarlet ribbons.

I, Eliza Hamilton.”
Susan Holloway Scott

Liz Braswell
“Belle examined the dresses skeptically. Of course, if things went the way they did in fairy tales, they would all fit her perfectly. The question was, was this a "Bluebeard's Wives" situation? Or something else?”
Liz Braswell, As Old as Time

Jan Moran
“A flaming red flapper dress, a sleek black dress with full, satin purple sleeves and a matching flounce, a summery cotton frock with a cheerful red poppy print, and a musketeer's gold-trimmed jacket tumbled out of the pile of clothing. A mound of scarves fluttered onto the bed.
Marge fingered the frayed, tasseled edge of a silk jacquard scarf in shades of amethyst and emerald green.”
Jan Moran, The Chocolatier

Sarah K.L. Wilson
“. Designed to look like a breastplate, the corset was trimmed in silver with sections that looked like overlapping plate armor. It fell to a frothy skirt and the lace at the top of the corset draped around the neckline in a way that hinted more than revealed. Dark and mysterious, the entire expanse of the full skirt was sewn in what looked like a battle scene, complete with charging horses, flying arrows, and dying corpses. I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or horrified. I felt a little of both.”
Sarah K.L. Wilson, Fly with the Arrow

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