- Joined
- Aug 14, 2016
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- Location
- The Sticks
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- growingupwolf.blogspot.com
On went the dickey skirt—wouldn’t want to feel indecent under a hundred layers of wool and linen, would I. On went the hip pads—to make my waist small enough for a man to wrap his index finger and thumb around. On went the pocket apron, the mulberry petticoat, the matching outer skirt, which Charlotte adjusted so that each half fell evenly beside the petticoat. Mimi slipped her hands through the slits in the skirt to make sure it lined up nicely with the pockets. It did. Of course. Charlotte pinned the embroidered-rose stomacher to the front of the corset and laid the white kerchief around her shoulders, tucking the ends into the the corset—just in case a nipple vaulted eight inches and poked someone’s eye out. Mimi thrust her arms through the robe’s frothy-edged sleeves. Charlotte pinned the folds to the petticoat stomacher.
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