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“Once she’s dressed — radiant and armored like Venus in court shoes — she floats into her litter or down the palace hall, face veiled just enough for mystery. She’s crowned with a diadem, or sometimes a turban twist, or that curious cone-shaped tutulus that juts from the forehead like a temple spire. There’s a neck-scarf for grace, a handkerchief for dust and sweat (and occasional nose-blowing), and a peacock-feather fan to shoo away flies and men alike. On bright days, an umbrella flutters above her, green as spring, carried by a maid or gallant. And of course — the sacred handbag.” — Tapio Tiihonen
Once she’s dressed — radiant and armored like Venus in court shoes — she floats into her litter or down the palace hall, face veiled just enough for mystery. She’s crowned with a diadem, or sometimes a turban twist, or that curious cone-shaped tutulus that juts from the forehead like a temple spire. There’s a neck-scarf for grace, a handkerchief for dust and sweat (and occasional nose-blowing), and a peacock-feather fan to shoo away flies and men alike. On bright days, an umbrella flutters above her, green as spring, carried by a maid or gallant. And of course — the sacred handbag.