She stood in candlelight… The dim cobweb of the staircase floated behind her, and her gown was as pink and blossoming as a rose… Her eyes looked calmly on the ruins around her, for she knew that the small frivolities of parties and appointments are at least no longer glittering islands ringed by a terrible magic circle of swift destruction. Ruins rise, and beauty has its second spring; the future holds equal hope and hazard, and the grace of a ball dress, bright against the rubble and brave in the encompassing dark, is a symbol of our gradual return to a certain serenity of life.
British Vogue, June 1947, p33. Clifford Coffin photo.
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