House of Capulet:
An entry from the diary of Isabella Capulet:
Monday, 26 September 1892
Despite the fact that I spent literally hours getting dressed tonight and had to be sewn into my slightly large pink gown--not to mention all of the struggles involved with getting my rebellious strands of hair to stay where they belong--I did not enjoy myself tonight. I had been planning on going to my first Italian opera for months with Lady Capulet and the rest, but it ended in complete disaster. I seemed to be the only one who had been cruelly disappointed in the performance; but to be fair, all I wanted to do the entire time was talk and dance. I had a million things to say and look at. There were diamonds everywhere. I felt that everyone would be excited and lively, but instead everyone was as solemn as a funeral. It was horribly depressing. I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone would want to devote time and energy to something as cruelly tragic as an Italian opera when there are such things as balls, fashion, and men in this world. Apparently Juliet would. She cried for about the entire second half of the opera and refused to even explain to me why on Earth she was doing so. If Rosaline hadn't been there to write little notes to and make faces at Gregory and Lord Capulet with (both looked content, but mainly because they were getting much needed sleep), I should have died of boredom. The costumes were really exquisite though. I wish it wasn't so taboo to be a seamstress.
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