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Her bouffant coiffure was fortunately combed on the left which happened to be the direction from which a brisk breeze was blowing.
from
Brown Corpus
Some Related Sentences
Her and bouffant
Her neck was thin and her hair piled high upon her head in the contemporary bouffant, pompadour, and chignon (" waterfall of curls ") fashions.
Her and coiffure
Her coiffure, known as a coazone, confines her hair smoothly to her head with two bands of hair bound on either side of her face and a long plait at the back.
Her and was
Her face was very thin, and burned by the sun until much of the skin was dead and peeling, the new skin under it red and angry.
Her blond hair was frowzy, her dress torn in several places, and her shoes were so completely worn out that they were practically no protection.
Her form was silhouetted and with the strong light I could see the outlines of her body, a body that an artist or anyone else would have admired.
Her mouth, which had been so much in my thoughts, was warm and moist and tender.
Her heart, her maternal feeling, in fact her being was too busy expressing itself, as quietly thrilled by this sight of her Nicolas curled asleep under a blanket, in a park like a scene from Poussin.
Her white blond hair was clean and brushed long straight down to her shoulders.
Her thick hair was the color and texture of charcoal.
Her laugh was hard.
Her face was pale but set and her dark eyes smoldered with blame for Ben.
Her stern was down and a sharp list helped us to cut loose the lifeboat which dropped heavily into the water.
Her name was L'Turu and she told me many things.
( Her account was later confirmed by the Scobee-Frazier Expedition from the University of Manitoba in 1951.
Her mother was a good manager and established a millinery business in Milwaukee.
Her name was Esther Peter.
Her brother Karl was a very gentle soul, her mother was a quiet woman who said little but who had hard, probing eyes.
Her mother, now dead, was my good friend and when she came to tell us about her plans and to show off her ring I had a sobering wish to say something meaningful to her, something her mother would wish said.
Her action was involuntary.
Her name was Mollie.
Her speech was barren of southernisms ; ;
Her quarters were on the right as you walked into the building, and her small front room was clogged with heavy furniture -- a big, round, oak dining table and chairs, a buffet, with a row of unclaimed letters inserted between the mirror and its frame.
Her hair was dyed, and her bloom was fading, and she must have been crowding forty, but she seemed to be one of those women who cling to the manners and graces of a pretty child of eight.
Her voice was ripe and full and her teeth flashed again in Sicilian brilliance before the warm curved lips met and her mouth settled in repose.
Her and combed
Her hair was plaited up with a purple band in a conical form ( tutulus ), but when she went to participate in the ritual of the Argei, she neither combed nor arranged her hair.
Her and on
Her house stood on a rise of ground, and before she got into her car she looked at the houses below.
Her legs hung down long and thin as she sat on the high stool.
Her first day at work she was puzzled by an entry in the doctor's notes on an emergency case.
Her effort to put the home of living Presidents on the same basis as Mount Vernon and Monticello recognizes no party lines.
Her father's attention would be on the road ahead and it wouldn't deviate an inch until he crossed the bridge at the Falls and took the River Road to LaSalle and, finally, turned in at their own driveway at 387 Heather Heights.
Her mother would be fast asleep curled up against that wonderful, big, safe, solid shoulder next to her on the front seat.
Her husband, who is the son of Alton John Mason of Shreveport, La., and the late Mrs. Henry Cater Parmer, was president of Alpha Tau Omega and a member of Delta Sigma Pi at Lamar Tech, and did graduate work at Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa, on a Rotary Fellowship.
Her husband was lying on the kitchen floor, police said.
`` Her basic hull form ( a teardrop ) and her nuclear power plant will be used for almost all new submarines, including the potent Polaris missile submarines '', the statement went on.
Her hesitation was only momentary and she hoped he didn't notice it, as she settled herself, asked quickly how Miss Jenny and the babies were getting on.
Her hand tightened on the receiver.
Her Cousin Emma Carraway had written it, in her loose high old lady's script -- t's carefully crossed, but l's inclined to wobble like an old car on the downward slope.
Her first actual flight, for she and her kind had made mock flights on dummy panels since she was eight, showed her complete mastery of the techniques of her profession.
Her producer was present and suggested she include a version of it on her 1970 album Whales & Nightingales.
Her practice of accompanying Germanicus on campaigns was considered inappropriate, and her tendency to take command in these situations was viewed with suspicion as subversively masculine.
Her marriage to Claudius was not based on love, but on power.
Her property was confiscated, she left Italy and on Agrippina's orders, she committed suicide.
Her body was cremated that night on a dining couch.
Her household later on gave her a modest tomb in Misenum.
Her hair was a very pretty light brown, and fell on her neck in graceful curls.
Her father had no private income and the parsonage would revert to the church on his death.
Her views on the subject appear to have hardened over time.
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