Quotes About Elegance

I'm trying just to do good clothes, clothes that you need as much as you want.

I like to keep things classic, not lavish or blinged out. I don't even say that word. The last thing I want to be is over the top.

Simplicity and sexiness, that's what people want. At a price that's not outrageous.

The art of illusion is grace itself.

red felt cloche

Albinoni's Adagio in G Minor

Her white skin fairly glowed as if lit by some inner fire. Her lips were the colour of red wine, purple in the shadows, and her eyes, like a cat's, were oblique and dark.

Varian walked into the room, his face expressionless. He was wearing his hat with the blue feather, and a long crushed velvet coat, of deepest blue, which was covered in intricate embroidery. His hands were heavy with enormous jewelled rings. Affluence seemed to roll off him in waves. He inspected Finnigin for a few long moments.

His long golden hair hung towards the grey, rug-covered flagstones like precious rags torn from a queen's train.

Blood, flesh: what were these? Coarse, brutish victuals, the things that dogs ate. With his more refined palate, Peveral Othman could imbibe a more subtle substance.

Lahash flicked her a glance like a serpent's tongue, black and quick and wet in an otherwise dry countenance.

To those watching him, he appeared to dance as he walked.

He could see little of the man, other than the shadow of a face, dark garments, the long, expressive hands. His black boots were polished to a high, silken lustre, the feet crossed at the ankles.

The man was tall, shrouded in a dark cloak, his face now hidden by a wide-brimmed hat, in which reposed a single magnificent blue feather.

The men, comparitively dull beings in this house of feminine finery, were dashing nonetheless in tight clothes of viridian and iron blue, gold earrings glittering among the oiled ringlets around their shoulders.

Breathless with anticipation, I let Livvy drap me in her cloths, giddy from the dabs of sharp scent behind my ears.

Wine flowed from fountains, down into the mouths of those who lay in the pools beneath them. Narcotic fumes oozed from cubes of incense that smouldered in human skulls. I saw men and women of incredible beauty, like glaciers or naked flames. All were dancing, dancing.

There was a purity to the performance, a stylish reserve, which provoked only a feeling of sadness within me.

If a woman knows secret richness touches her flesh, she walks taller.

We stripped the flower of its foilage and purred and rubbed our faces across its flesh.

I had never seen such magnificent people, and their magnificence came from inside them, I could tell, an innate beauty that eclipsed the self-conscious loveliness of Kalkydra and his kind.

Shiny, undulating forms wave between his legs, caressed his flanks, but neither bit nor constricted his limbs.

Lightly, taking Beth with me, I danced from spark to spark, pausing for the briefest of touches.

She looked enchanting, wearing a simple, long black dress, her hair held back with a silky scarf. She had painted her lips with a smudge of pale lipstick and her lashes were spiky with mascara.