Luisa Casati should be shot, stuffed and displayed in a glass case. – Augustus John

The door to the room where we sat chatting suddenly opened. A dead woman entered. Her superb body was modelling a dress of white satin that was wrapped around her like a shroud and dragged behind her. A bouquet of orchids hid her breast. Her hair was red and her complexion livid like alabaster. Her face was devoured by two enormous eyes, whose black pupils almost overwhelmed her mouth painted a red so vivid that it seemed like a strip of coagulated blood. In her arms, she carried a baby leopard. It was the Marchesa Casati. – Gabriel-Louis Pringué

A black-gloved hand on which several rings sparkled, brushed the veil aside. The face was that of a sinister Pierrot, utterly white, the thin mouth a slit that seemed to be of the same black as the rings encircling the eyes. The high cheekbones, the forward-thrusting chin, the long neck bespoke the apparition's class. Was this the vampire Nosferatu in drag or the daughter of Dracula turned grandmother? Had Miss Havisham discarded her bridal veil for the costume of the Blue Angel? Assuredly it was no Madwoman of Chaillot. On this skeleton tawdry fineries had acquired an elegance beyond the canons of any fashion. This figure could arouse panic–but pity, never. – Philippe Jullian