Best 4010 quotes in «fashion quotes» category

She was crying over shoes. I wanted to slap her. I wanted to take those shoes and smash her head in.

She was never without dark glasses, she was always well groomed, there was a consequential good taste in the plainness of her clothes, the blues and grays and lack of luster that made her, herself, shine so.

She was found in her apartment yesterday. Dead.” About time.

She was wearing a sleeveless top that held her breasts in the most marvelous way, the balance between what it revealed and what it left to the imagination as poetic as a Shakespearean sonnet.

Sit there and look pretty.

Skulls" said Lady Lamorna. "Definitely skulls. Rows and rows of dear little skulls, sewn all along the hem.

So I made her get up. I told her to stop crying and get back to her desk.” Later I bashed those ugly shoes into her face.

Soldier's fashion accessory is his weapon just like a jewelry for women.

Some clothes provoke more feelings in me than people.

Some people’s desire to look like some people is so intense that they seldom look like themselves.

So my life has come to this: all I ever make is laundry. Awake or asleep, I'm always shuffling round some shopping mall, raking through knitwear carousels that whirl into infinity, searching, with the fever or teething gums, for the ultimate cardigan. Is it any wonder the wardrobe's bursting, the linen basket overflowing like an archive of disproved hypotheses? The grey bras, the shrinking T-shirts, that embarrassed puddle of lycra, my favourite dress -- now ruined dress -- my lost remembered, perfect dress: all laundry, in the end. More laundry.

Speaking of high-end shoe designers, in 2011 it was fascinating to see the design company of Christian Louboutin try to stop the company Yves Saint Laurent from producing high heels with red soles, claiming that Louboutin was the originator of the red sole. Louboutin lost, and I was glad. He was not the first person to paint a sole, and I am wary of patenting a color, like Tiffany blue. Why should we grant that entire history to Louboutin and say there are no predecessors and should be no successors?

Style is a sacred fashion.

Style is the way to say who you are without speaking

Style jazzes up your canvas.

Style never speaks, but somehow is always saying something.

Style is the woman herself.

Swankiness get noticed but style get remembered.

Take all the fullness out of this skirt," they say. "Ok," we say, "but you'll feel awfully silly in it next year." "What do I care about next year?" they answer. "Any dress which isn't in style for at least three years isn't any good to begin with," we say.

That civet-jasmine blend you're wearing tonight absolutely clashes with the third-level formal style of your dress, you know.

That night I set the building on fire and killed everyone inside. Just kidding. I watched three back-to-back episodes of Law & Order. A girl needed a release. It was all work and no play lately.

That night Serena dressed to meet Zahi. She used a metallic green eye shadow on the top lids and the outer half of the bottom lids so that her eyes looked like a jungle cat's. Two coats of black mascara completed them, and then she smudged a light gold gloss on her lips. She took a red skirt from the closet. The material was snakelike, shimmering black, then red. She slipped it on and tied the black strings of a matching bib halter around her neck and waist. She painted red-and-black glittering flames on her legs and rubbed glossy shine on her arms and chest. Finally, she took the necklace she had bought at the garage sale and fixed it in her hairline like the headache bands worn by flappers back in the 1920's. The jewels hung on her forehead, making her look like an exotic maharani. She sat at her dressing table and painted her toenails and fingernails gold, then looked in the mirror. A thrill jolted through her as it always did. No matter how many times she saw her reflection after the transformation, her image always astonished her. She looked supernatural, a spectral creature, green eyes large, skin glowing, eyelashes longer, thicker. Everything about her was more forceful and elegant- an enchantress goddess. She couldn't pull away from her reflection. It was as if the warrior in her had claimed the night.

That’s the business, Iris. It’s a ruthless industry. People’s love lasts but one season.

The beauty of the soul is wrapped in modest fashion.

The beauty of the soul enfold in spiritual-life.

The bedlamite little hats in which American women have tried to out-lunatic each other for the past four years prove conclusively we don't dress to please anyone. We're just docile sheep who accept what's given us.

The best creates, the rest follows

The childish and savage taste of men and women for new patterns keeps how many shaking and squinting through kaleidoscopes that they may discover the particular figure which this generation requires to-day. The manufacturers have learned that this taste is merely whimsical. Of two patterns which differ only by a few threads more or less of a particular color, the one will be sold readily, the other lie on the shelf, though it frequently happens that after the lapse of a season the latter becomes the most fashionable. Comparatively, tattooing is not the hideous custom which it is called. It is not barbarous merely because the printing is skin-deep and unalterable.

The clothes or accessories you do or don't wear are a statement, a reflection of yourself; that is why you should always try to wear 'who you are' not anyone else.

The Devil's out of fashion.

The "fashion-beauty complex'," representing the corporate interests involved in the fashion and beauty industries, has, Bartky argues, taken over from the family and church as "central producers and regulators of 'femininity'" (1990, p. 39). The fashion-beauty complex promotes itself to women as seeking to, "glorify the female body and to provide opportunities for narcissistic indulgence'' but in fact its aim is to "depreciate woman's body and deal a blow to her narcissism'' so that she will buy more products. The result is that a woman feels constantly deficient and that her body requires "either alteration or else heroic measures merely to conserve it'' (p. 39).

The happiness of being envied is glamour.

The kitchen is your natural setting as a woman and you should look beautiful, not bedraggled, in it. Whether you go to work or work at home- or both- take advantage of the opportunity the kitchen offers for expressing your wifely qualities in what you wear. Pinafores, organdies, and aprons look wonderful, as do gay cotton wrap-arounds that slip on over your dress while you make breakfast. Too much attention is paid to kitchen equipment and decor; too little to what is worn in this setting. Why look like Cinderella's crotchety stepmother when you can be a lyrical embodiment of all that a home and hearth means!

The late eighties was a good vintage. ID was not yet fashionable so a lot of people were doing it for the right reasons - to make good design, not become stars.

The most important thing to wear is a smile.

The most truly eccentric dresser in this country is the Queen, who pays no attention whatsoever to fashion

Theo shook out the half square of heavy silk. "It will make all the difference to this insipid gown." With one sharp wrench she pulled out the lace fichu tucked into her bodice and replaced it with the scarf. It flashed raspberry red against the almond-colored muslin of her gown.

The power of beauty is that it encapsulates all the bitter sweet elements and mirrors them back as a breathtaking masterpiece.

There is nothing worse than bringing up the 'good old days.' To me, that's the ultimate acknowledgment of failure.

There will be days that you don’t want to dress up and if you have some decent looking athletic wear, you can give the illusion that you’ve just been working out, as opposed to giving up on life.

These jeans looked so good on me when I looked in the mirror I wanted to fuck myself.

These were the new girls of New York- complete with rapid heartbeats from too much nicotine and coffee. They were nervous and fluttery but completely alluring- the new face of urban femininity.

The thing about trends is that they change over time, but who you are is forever

The uglier the fashions, the worse places we'd have to pose to make them look good. Junkyards. Slaughterhouses. Sewage treatment plants. It's the ugly bridesmaid tactic where you only look good by comparison.

The Widow Russell apparently took her at-home retirement so far as the abstain from receiving guests in the formal parlors: Theo was shown to a pink-papered upstairs room where she sat in an armchair whose chintz upholstery featured roses twining daintily on a white ground. She was head-to-toe in black, of course, and for a moment he had the very odd impression of a spider lurking in a rose bouquet.

The woman who emerged had to be eight feet tall. Her hair was every shade of purple, piled in buns and hanging in braids, and all of it sprinkled with gems like stars.

The world conforms people to a certain way of thinking and living through external influences such as advertising and fashion. But believers are being transformed by an indwelling life according to the divine 'DNA' from within.

The worst mistake you can make is to force yourself to shop. The most important part of shopping is your frame of mind. How can you make a proper choice if you feel like the mistreated heroine of a soap opera? A frivolous hat or other bit of forbidden fruit are ideal for beating the blues, but stay out of the dress and coat departments until you feel enthusiastic. If your body isn't attuned to fashion, you won't look right in anything. And if you're depressed because you've gained a few pounds, don't buy something too small to grow down to. Lose the few pounds first then go shopping. Remember, diets always start tomorrow.

They took they hit the cobblestone streets to look at churches, with Isabella wearing suede Manolos. "She's breaking her legs and I tell her it's just ridiculous and that she had to get some proper shoes." She bought and put on a pair of espadrilles and promptly broke into tears. "I can't. I can't. Everytime I look down on my feet I feel so depressed." Roberts said, "Well, are you going to be depressed or are you going to have a broken ankle?" "I am going to have a broken ankle" she said and she threw the shoes away.

Think pink but don't wear it