Emily-in-the-glass looked very well that night. She had got the dress she had longed for for years–spent the whole price of a story on it, to her aunt’s horror. Shot silk – blue in one light, silver in another, with mists of lace. She remembered that Teddy had said that when she got that dress he would painter her as an Ice-maiden in it.
It would in truth have been a ghastly interview had it not been for Ilse, who chattered with all her old breeziness and tang, planning out a two weeks of gay doings while she was home […] the same lovable old madcap of laughter and jest and dressed with all her old gorgeous violations of accepted canons of taste. In an extraordinary dress–a thing of greenish-yellow. She had a big pink peony at her waist and another at her shoulder. She wore a bright green hat with a wreath of pink flowers on it. Great hoops of pearly swung in her ears. It was a weird costume. No one but Ilse could have worn it successfully. And she looked like the incarnation of a thousand tropic springs in it– exotic, provocative, beautiful. So beautiful!
Anne was standing in the gable room, looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed. One was of snuffy coloured gingham which Marilla had been tempted to buy from a peddler the preceding summer because it looked so serviceable; one was of black-and-white checked sateen which she had picked up at a bargain counter in the winter; and one was a stuff print of an ugly blue shade which she had purchased that week at a Carmody store.
She had made them up herself and they were all made alike-plain skirts fulled tightly to plain waists, with sleeves as plain as waist and skirt and tight as sleeves could be.
“I’ll imagine that I like them,” said Anne soberly […] “Oh I am grateful,” protested Anne. “But I’d be ever so much gratefuller if–if you made just one of them with puffed sleeves. Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now. It would give me such a thrill, Marilla, just to wear a dress with puffed sleeves.”
Originally this outfit was supposed to be for having tea with Anne Shirley. Then we remembered that she has bad luck with tea parties, tending to accidentally intoxicate her guests…and so, here is an ensemble for strolling around Avonlea. Anne loved the scenery and lush landscape of her beloved hometown, naming all her favourite haunts when she was young. Here is an outfit fit for a stroll and a chat with one of the most original and inspiring women (albeit fictional) hailing from Canadian literature.