GINEVRA March 1913
“We are on the tips of slagging tongues again.” I did not often disturb Pearl at her studio; I knew what focus an artist needed to create the things their minds saw. I had spent my childhood watching my father turn blocks of wood into the most beautiful violins. When I designed, I “saw” my fashion and then drew it on paper. Art is born in the mind, made real when we do the creating. “Why do you laugh? It is not a funny thing.”
“No. Of course it isn"t, dear,” Pearl snickered. “But the expression is "wagging" tongues, not "slagging." Slagging is—”
“Wagging, slagging, whatever.” I waved away my wrong word away as I did her silliness. “The point is we are being talked about… again.” I knew our work, our support of suffrage, and our activities to move the cause forward wou
