Remember me? I'm Lizzie from Caves, Cannons, and Crinolines. My writer has asked me to tell our dear friends about our book signing on Saturday. Now this is just our experience. Yours, hopefully, will be different.
So we start out. Of course, Beverly could not drive the car in her crinoline. The car--a strange means of transportation compared to the carriages and wagons we rode in during my time--was too small for all those ruffles. So she put the skirt and crinoline in a bag and changed at the book store.
When we arrived at the store, the nice people there had set up a table for us with chairs. Beverly changed into her new clothes and prissed around the store trying to attract attention. Well, most people didn't even notice, or else they simply gave her a look then went back to their shopping. Actually very few customers were there that afternoon. I think everyone must have stayed home due to the sweltering heat, though I cannot comprehend why Beverly complained. My goodness, it was hot outside, true, but inside was cool as an autumn evening. This air conditioning is a marvelous invention. Nat is thorougly impressed. You know how he's always experimenting with new ideas.
Anyway, her sister came by and they talked and talked. It must be nice to have a sister who thinks like you do. All I have are brothers. Then her cousins from another town stopped by. More talk. A couple of people even bought books. Thank you, thank you. I hope you enjoy my story. One nice man paused, read the title, and asked what a crinoline was. Beverly lifted her skirt, not too high, and showed him. See, we're educating people.
But do you know? She took a picture or two, but forgot to have someone take pictures of her. She says we have another signing in August and she will then.
Linda (Sister), Milta (Cousin), and Francis (Cousin)
And the pictures are in color. So much has changed over the years. Oh, I must tell about going home. So, it's 6 o'clock, time to leave. Beverly tries to wear the crinoline home. She gets in the car. Can't see the steering wheel because the crinoline covers it. And she whips that uncomfortable thing (see why I hate mine) off and drives with just the skirt, which was bad enough.
Now you know why in pictures from my time, the ladies are always frowning. They are suffocating in their crinolines. I do like the clothing of your time.