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Sofia Andrukhovych
tulle clasp. Let us not forget
the hats—their impressive
dimensions blown up further
by generously-sized hairdos
held together by eccentric
combs andpins. On their swan
necks (although sometimes,
also chicken and turkey
necks), delicate golden chains
with medallions, hearts,
and crosses, retrieved from
jewelry chests. Their fans
rock back and forth on similar
chains; but see how one lady
hang hers over her shoulder,
and another attaches hers
to her belt. Everyone’s shoes
and stockings match the color
of their dresses.
Something else has changed
in the silhouettes of Stanislav
ladies. Yes, of course—it
looks like they have grown
new bosoms: now their
busts are lower and less full,
which actually fits the latest
fashions for the skirts better.
The sleeves are becoming
narrower and longer—why,
we may even give up gloves
completely some time soon.
These bosoms are followed
with great attention by our
local
dandies—polished,
fragrant young men with
thin mustaches and hair
neatly parted in the center.
Everything about them is
exaggerated—the enormous
collars, the fantastic neckties
with grotesque ornaments,
unbelievably high top hats (it
seems they wouldn’t be able
to fit through the doors).
Both outside and inside
the lobby all one hears
is fantastic stories about
Chevalier Thorn’s magic: how
he makes things dissolve into
air, how he makes people and
objects fly, how he cuts them
into pieces and then puts
them together, how in a few
minutes from a tiny seed a
full-size tree grows on stage