A man once told me that you step out of your door in the morning, and you are already in trouble. The only question is are you on top of that trouble or not?— Denzel Washington
Unconventional Blue Dress quotations
With the White Stripes we were trying to trick people into not realising we were playing the blues. We did not want to come off like white kids trying to play black music from 100 years ago so a great way to distract them was by dressing in red, white and black.
I'm into a casual-dressing girl: blue jeans and a tank top is super sexy.
But the sexiest thing on a girl - when I see it I'm like, oh my God - is these little tight boxers. Don't get me wrong, g-strings are fine, but those cover a little, to where it's just enough.
It’s time to burn the beret and bury the blue dress.
The sky slowly pulled up its blue dress to reveal night.
On the waves of the brook she dances by, The light, the lovely dragon-fly;
She dances here, she dances there, The shimmering, glimmering flutterer fair. And many a foolish young beetle's impressed By the blue gauze gown in which she is dressed; They admire the enamel that decks her bright, And her elegant waist so slim and slight.
At twelve I looked like a girl of seventeen.
My body was developed and shapely. I still wore the blue dress and the blouse the orphanage provided. They made me look like an overgrown lummox.
Remember my first tenet in getting dressed is how you feel in the morning.
So if you're not being true blue to that, it usually shows.
I have always been drawn to designing fashions that are rebellious, like black leather jackets on suburban kinds, a corset dress, punk, blue jeans. I love that. Fashion changes all the time, and what is considered extreme or elegant or luxurious (or not luxurious) is changing all the time.
Much of what is euphemistically known as the middle class, merely because it dresses up to go to work, is now reduced to proletarian conditions of existence. Many white-collar jobs require no more skill and pay even less than blue-collar jobs, conferring little status or security.
She already got the blue dress on I ironed this morning, the one with sixty-five pleats on the waist, so tiny I got to squint through my glasses to iron. I don’t hate much in life, but me and that dress is not on good terms.
The Constitution is like my old blue dress ... it doesn't fit anymore.
It's all or nothing with my makeup. If I get dressed up, I'll go to an extreme. I'll wear foundation, bright blue or bright red lipstick with one of my weird purple wigs.
...his gaze met hers. It was crazy. Dressed down in worn blue jeans and a black shirt, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And the moment was sort of perfect. Even with the deer head staring over his shoulder like a total creeper.
I have the worst ear for criticism; even when I have created a stage set I like, I always hear the woman in the back of the dress circle who says she doesn't like blue.
I don't consider what you're wearing when I design a shoe.
I don't have a particular look in mind or make a shoe thinking, "This would look great with a blue pinstripe suit." I just let you dress yourself. I'm looking at the shoe itself, not as a component of an outfit.
So the Clinton-Gore era culminates with an election as stained as the blue dress, a Democratic chorus complaining that the Constitution should not be the controlling legal authority, and Clinton's understudy dispatching lawyers to litigate this: It depends on what the meaning of 'vote' is.
But her name was Esmé. She was a girl with long, long, red, red hair. Her mother braided it. The flower shop boy stood behind her and held it in his hand. Her mother cut it off and hung it from a chandelier. She was Queen. Mazishta. Her hair was black and her handmaidens dressed it with pearls and silver pins. Her flesh was golden like the desert. Her flesh was pale like cream. Her eyes were blue. Brown.
I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room
Here is the same clock that walked quietly Through those enormous years I half recall,When between one blue summer and anotherTime seemed as many miles as round the world,And world a day, a moment or a mile,Or a sweet slope of grass edged with the sea,Or a new song to sing, or a tree dressed in gold
Jerrie Cobb reached down and pulled the heavy layers of arctic clothing over her navy blue linen dress.
When I first came on the scene, I don't think people knew what to make of the way I dress, my aesthetic and how that ties into my music. It took a lot of explaining. You don't really see females in country music dressed in all black wearing funeral garb with netting on their face. I have a bit of a gothic sense to me in a lot of ways, with a bit of outlaw country, rockabilly and blues. My subject matter is off the cuff a little bit.
I always took a great interest in my clothes.
My sister, who was 13 months older, and I always dressed alike, but as I got a little bit older, I didn't like that because I wanted to dress differently. So our mother would put Patty in blue and Polly in pink, or we would wear complementary colors, but the shapes we were wearing were always the same, and I was very interested in that. I also took great interest in my dolls and their clothes.
When I was about five my dad built a stage for me in our basement.
A full stage, with a curtain, a backdrop and a dressing room. There were three colored spotlights - a red one, a white one, and a blue one. Blue was for nighttime scenes, and red was for when we were in hell. If the neighborhood kids wanted to use the stage, they had to incorporate me into the play.
I was having an out-of-body experience, it was so hot.
I felt I was watching someone play in a blue dress, and it wasn't me.
I thought of myself as part of the general filmmaking effort.
And as my scope broadened, I began to think about directing. I wanted to be the guy who got to say whether the dress is red or blue.
Growing up, I wasn't allowed dolls, and my brothers weren't allowed guns.
I inherited my brothers' clothes. I was never dressed in pink, and they were never dressed in blue; there were none of those rules that people still bizarrely subscribe to.
I do love horror movies, but I'm not the kind of guy who would dress up as a ghoul for Halloween. I might go as a member of the Blue Man Group.
When in company with literary women, make no allusions to 'learned ladies,' or 'blue stockings,' or express surprise that they should have any knowledge of housewifery, or needle-work, or dress; or that they are able to talk on 'common things.' It is rude and foolish and shows that you really know nothing about them, either as a class or as individuals.
God said,--"Let there be light!" Grim darkness felt His might, And fled away;
Then startled seas and mountains cold Shone forth, all bright in blue and gold, And cried--"'Tis day! 'tis day!" "Hail, holy light!" exclaim'd The thunderous cloud that flam'd O'er daisies white; And lo! the rose, in crimson dress'd, Lean'd sweetly on the lily's breast; And blushing murmur'd--Light!
From my table inside I watch the glamorous women outside who are lunching on Spa Cobb salads without blue cheese or dressing. The man with the bread basket wanders from table to table, lonesome as a cloud. When he comes to me his basket is full and perfectly arranged. He gives me a smile of sincere pleasure when I tell him I will take both the sourdough roll and the cheese stick.
I would like to please the reader, and I think that surprise has to be an element of this, and that may necessitate a certain amount of teasing. To shock the reader is something else again. That has to be handled with great care if you're not going to alienate and hurt him, and I'm firmly against that, just as I disapprove of people who dress with that in mind - dye their hair blue and stick safety pins through their noses and so on.
If you want to be a good blues singer, people are going to be down on you, so dress like you're going to the bank to borrow money.
Was the Buffalo chicken wing invented when Teressa Bellissimo thought of splitting it in half and deep frying it and serving it with celery and blue-cheese dressing? Was it invented when John Young started using mambo sauce and thought of elevating wings into a specialty?
The public never appears to tire of endless courses of strawberries and cream, and the theory that you run the risk of boring people with endless photo montages of the Chelsea Pensioners in their dress reds, or close-ups of a Pimm's Cup sprouting all kinda of flora, has yet to be proven. People like Wimbledon in the same way they like blue jeans or even their own spouses: for the pleasure yielded by their reliable sameness.