<em> </em>
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<strong>Here’s to deviant pleasures – why is it that Amy March has appealed to me more than Jo March ever could in Louisa May Alcott’s <em>Little Women?</em> I always thought she was the most interesting character and the one who talked the most openly about class in the compartmentalized worlds in the book.   And unlike Meg, who just wanted to get married and live happily ever after, Amy starts the book with specific aspirations but is thwarted. </strong>

<strong>My favorite casting choice for her character was always Elizabeth Taylor – and the costuming for that film is gorgeous and lush – I can’t imagine how lovely it would be to see color shots of Amy’s ball gowns.</strong>

<em>*"Your predictions sometimes come to pass, but I don’t believe that one will. I’m sure I wish it would,  for if I can’t be an artist myself, I should like to be able to help those who are," said Amy, smiling, as if the part of Lady Bountiful would suit her better than that of a poor drawing teacher.</em>

<em>*"If we were belles, or women of wealth and position, we might do something, perhaps, but for us to frown at one set of young gentlemen because we don’t approve of them, and smile upon another set because we do, wouldn’t have a particle of effect, and we should only be considered odd and puritanical."</em>

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<em>Jo:  So we are to countenance things and people which we detest, merely because we are not belles and millionaires, are we? That’s a nice sort of morality.</em>

<em>I can’t argue about it, I only know that it’s the way of the world, and people who set themselves against it only get laughed at for their pains. I don’t like reformers, and I hope you never try to be one.</em>

<em>Jo:  I do like them, and I shall</em> <em>be one if I can, for in spite of the laughing the world would never get on without them. We can’t agree about that. for you belong to the old set, and I to the new. You will get on the best, but I shall have the liveliest time of it. I should rather enjoy the brickbats and hooting, I think.</em>

<em>*You don’t need dozens of suitors. You need only one… if he’s the right one.</em>

<em>*Why, girls, you needn’t praise me so. I only did as I’d be done by. You laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true gentlewoman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know how. I can’t explain exactly, but I want to be above the little meannesses and follies and faults that spoil so many women. I’m far from it now, but I do my best, and hope in time to be what Mother is.</em>

<em>*He found nothing to perplex or disappoint, much to admire and approve, for overlooking a few little affectations of speech and manner, she was as sprightly and graceful as ever, with the addition of that indescribable something in dress and bearing which we call elegance. Always mature for her age, she had gained a certain aplomb in both carriage and conversation, which made her seem more of a woman of the world than she was, but her old petulance now and then showed itself, her strong will still held its own, and her native frankness was unspoiled by foreign polish.</em>

<strong>I always enjoyed the description of Amy’s dresses and dressing rituals.  Clearly, Alcott “favored” Jo over Amy – Jo’s writing talent is natural, whereas Amy lacks natural artistic talent – but in the long descriptions of Amy’s beauty and in Jo’s exclamation that Amy is a “thing of beauty and a joy forever,” we can read a tenderness towards Amy’s attention “to outer frivolities.”</strong>

<em>Amy knew her good points, and made the most of them with the taste and skill which is a fortune to a poor and pretty woman.</em>

<em>Tarlatan and tulle were cheap at Nice, so she enveloped herself in them on such occasions, and following the sensible English fashion of simple dress for young girls, got up charming little toilettes with fresh flowers, a few trinkets, and all manner of dainty devices, which were both inexpensive and effective. It must be confessed that the artist sometimes got possession of the woman, and indulged in antique coiffures, statuesque attitudes, and classic draperies. But, dear heart, we all have out little weaknesses, and find it easy to pardon such in the young, who satisfy our eyes with their comeliness, and keep our hearts merry with their artless vanities.</em>

<em>I do want him to think I look well, and tell them so at home, said Amy to herself, as she put on Flo’s old white silk ball dress, and covered it with a cloud of fresh illusion, out of which her white shoulders and golden head emerged with a most artistic effect. Her hair she had the sense to let alone, after gathering up the thick waves and curls into a Hebe-like knot at the back of her head.</em>

<em>It’s not the fashion, but it’s becoming, and I can’t afford to make a fright of myself, she used to say, when advised to frizzle, puff, or braid, as the latest style commanded.</em>

<em>Having no ornaments fine enough for this important occasion, Amy looped her fleecy skirts with rosy clusters of azalea, and framed the white shoulders in delicate green vines. Remembering the painted boots, she surveyed her white satin slippers with girlish satisfaction, and chased down the room, admiring her aristocratic feet all by herself.</em>

<em>My new fan just matches my flowers, my gloves fit to a charm, and the real lace on Aunt’s mouchoir gives an air to my whole dress. If I only had a classical nose and mouth I should be perfectly happy, she said, surveying herself with a critical eye and a candle in each hand.</em>

<em>******</em>

<em>Where did you learn all this sort of thing? he asked with a quizzical look.</em>

<em>As `this sort of thing’ is rather a vague expression, would you kindly explain? returned Amy, knowing perfectly well what he meant, but wickedly leaving him to describe what is indescribable.</em>

<em>Well the general air, the style, the self-possession, the illusion you know , laughed Laurie, breaking down and helping himself out of his quandary with the new word.</em>

<em>Amy was gratified, but of course didn’t show it, and demurely answered, Foreign life polishes one in spite of one’s self. I study as well as play, and as for this with a little gesture toward her dress why, tulle is cheap, posies to be had for nothing, and I am used to making the most of my poor little things.</em>

<em>Amy rather regretted that last sentence, fearing it wasn’t in good taste, but Laurie liked her better for it, and found himself both admiring and respecting the brave patience that made the most of opportunity, and the cheerful spirit that covered poverty with flowers. Amy did not know why he looked at her so kindly, now why he filled up her book with his own name, and devoted himself to her for the rest of the evening in the most delightful manner, but the impulse that wrought this agreeable change was the result of one of the new impressions which both of them were unconsciously giving and receiving.</em>