Little Black Dress...for grandmothers

It’s actually quite a lovely little dress, thought Jane, eyeing the neckline and the stiff, full skirt that stopped just above the knee. At one time Florence probably looked ravishing in it. In the family’s opinion, however—excluding Roger, whom they thought a fool— it was not a dress that a woman should wear in her seventies, let alone sixties or fifties. In it, Florence had bared her withered cleavage and varicosed calves at many a Coleman gathering. Worse still, when she did wear it, Roger was wont to eye her hungrily and nuzzle her neck in front of appalled relatives. Florence had enjoyed it all immensely. Mischievously, she had called it her little-black-dress.