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The Palace was a small and, I suspect, a rather shabby theatre; but when I see it in my memories I see it still with my oyster-girl's eyes — I see the mirror-glass which lined the walls, the crimson plush upon the seats, the plaster cupids, painted gold, which swooped above the curtain. Like our oyster-house, it had its own particular scent — the scent, I know now, of music halls everywhere — the scent of wood and grease-paint and spilling beer, of gas and of tobacco and of hair-oil, all combined. It was a scent which as a girl I loved uncritically...

(no subject)

Date: 2006-01-17 05:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wireworkelf.livejournal.com
Tipping the Velvet. Excellent choice, sir.

(no subject)

Date: 2006-01-17 06:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] swirl-girlx.livejournal.com
My goodness.

where is the text from...?

(no subject)

Date: 2006-01-17 10:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] puppetlowerhalf.livejournal.com
i love that picture.

she is beautiful.

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