He was waiting in his hotel lobby for time to take the train to Winnipeg. He was interested by the entrance of a lady more decorative than the females customarily seen in this modest inn: a hand-tooled presentation copy of a lady, in crushed levant and satin doublure; a lady with mascara’d eyelashes, a permanent wave, and a cobweb frock.*
Sinclair Lewis. It Can't Happen Here
*basically the author is circumlocuitously describing an old leather-bound book.