This was the second time in a week that Celia had donned her blue jeans (and critically examined her hips in a mirror for no less than fifteen minutes, once she had done so) and headed off the island. This trip, however, held far less promise of education, and far more expectation of glitter. Yes, Celia could make her own dress (and Eleanor's, for
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She imagined it would be just as strange for Celia, if Eleanor were to put on a proper Victorian gown.
"It's especially strange to call it 'homecoming' when this seems like an island full of transients," she added. "We pass through here, but it isn't home for most of us."
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It was like a dress for pixies! She wouldn't be able to sit down in the damn thing.
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Was it too much to ask for a little elegance? Really.
She pulled a black sequined number out and held it up critically in the air.
"There's nothing wrong with this one," she mused, "but it's not striking my fancy, either."
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Joker would probably like it if she turned up in a burlap sack, but point stood.
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