There is something about this that I find charming — leaving aside her sort of “DON’T MOVE A MUSCLE” facial expression, which is also amusing, albeit in a different way, and, of course ignoring the fact that her legs are crossed under her gown, giving this whole thing the illusion that she’s got her feet on backwards.
But there is something about the dress that reminds me of, you know, a PBS adaptation of an obscure British book set between the wars, in which women lounge about on fainting couches, gesturing with cigarette holders and languishing — generally because the man with whom they are in love is either secretly gay, secretly in love with the maid, or secretly irretrievably shell-shocked, or all three. So I like that. On the other hand, it’s also rather a fabulous gift bag.
