We fluttered about her room like butterflies in a field of wildflowers, not knowing which blooms to choose, wanting to choose them all.
It was a rehearsal of sorts. Pearl had told me she wanted her hair styled in the new Gibson fashion, and I had spent days looking at the pen and ink drawings of Charles Dana Gibson. He claimed his drawings were a representation of thousands of American girls. He had, in fact, started trends—the wider, higher, more elaborate bouffant, the swan-hill corset with its straight busk inserted in the front to give women"s body more of an `S" shape when seen from the side.
Pearl had ordered herself just such a corset and we spent some time adjusting the gown I had made her to fit the new shape. The emphasis was changing. The fragile waif woman was fading away whi
