From an odd story about cheating at cards in the presence of a Duchess, in an issue of Good Housekeeping of 1911.
Her gown was rather less imposing than anyone else's. I don't mean that it wasn't a credit to her hostess, but it seemed to do less striving for effect than our own. It was of a soft, clinging satin, in tones of palest gray. Except that the top was creamy with lace, it seemed not to have been "composed" at all. But for a dog collar of magnificent yellow topazes set in silver, she wore no gems. It was whispered about that the Duchess was patriotic in her wardrobe, and that this gown came from Liberty's in London; whereupon my smart neighbor concluded, "Well, if that is Liberty, give me Death." But I liked it— the gown, I mean. It was willing to be forgotten. It was perhaps the strongest impression that she made upon me, that one forgot her gown and her title in the charm of the lady herself.
The same issue has this illustration in it, which I find very, very humorous: