The Dressmaker
THE DRESSMAKER By Lisa Lovelace I had utterly the most horrid crisis in my boudoir on Wednesday morning. Phineas and I had responded s'il vous pla?t to a Thursday night soiree at the Gardners' on Chestnut Street, on the coveted south slope of Beacon Hill. It was the grandest house to which we had yet been invited - and the gorgeous new gown that I planned to wear lay in ruins. It was two-layered floor-length tulle over light gold taffeta, embroidered with purple and plum flowers. The ...