The champagne gold off-the-shoulder floor-length gown set off Wen Nuan's graceful neck, shoulders as jade, slightly raised beauty bones, dignified yet sensuous, softening the hint of youthfulness on Wen Nuan.
The bust of the gown held in the little peaches that made Wen Nuan somewhat insecure. Looking down, there was even a deep ravine, giving her a momentary surge of pride.
Her naturally slender waist was even more beyond one's grasp. The skirt naturally draped down to the floor. Gazing into the mirror, she looked elegant and noble, like a princess of the European Royal Family.
"Miss, it's so beautiful, simply flawless."
The chief designer of National Grace, Tony, stood aside, lavishly praising.
This gown was custom-made a month ago and only airlifted from Paris yesterday.
Not knowing who would wear it, Tony was once worried that the gown might have some unsuitability, that he wouldn't be able to adjust it in time and ruin the name of National Grace.
