I'm currently reading The Blind Assassin, by Margaret Atwood.
More on my impressions when I've finished the book. At this moment in the story it's the depression, and the family, whose fortunes are rapidly declining, is throwing a party. The girls are without a mother, and are being raised by their father (whose business is beginning to fail,) a series of inept teachers, their housekeeper, and the father's girlfriend. This passage describes what the girlfriend wears to the party:
Atwood does such an amazing job of bringing the reader in, and evoking the visceral impression of a thing - the colored light in a room with stained glass windows, the flavor of the cheese hors d'ouvres, the attitude of each outfit and its wearer. Love me some Margaret Atwood.