In spite of Jake Harden’s dim viewpoint on women who head at a brittle clip into careers, Margot Gilland successfully kept under wraps the more outwardly recognizable mannerisms of the type. Her conversation did not reduce her less in-the-know listeners to the status of dumb doras being sniped at with palsey celebrities, open-armed maître d’s of impregnable huddle joints, and a pronunciation of certain common words which was so correct that nobody but Webster would believe it.
maître d’sHer dress subtly by-passed both the cleverly tailored uniform-in-black as well as any dernier cri in high fashion which would be so utterly dernier as to startle her less sensational sisters into a decline, brought on by the horrid suspicion that they looked like animate grain bags.
dernier cridernierShe
