dandified

"That dandified little clergyman has certainly reminded me of my discussion with Emily, more than two months since.

His face was clever and manly, but his dress was dandified and in bad taste.

We have seen, before, what a dandified gentleman Will Scarlet was; and Allan-a-Dale, the minstrel, was scarcely less goodly to look upon.

Being only `a glorious human boy', of course he frolicked and flirted, grew dandified, aquatic, sentimental, or gymnastic, as college fashions ordained, hazed and was hazed, talked slang, and more than once came perilously near suspension and expulsion.

It was said in an extraordinary dandified manner which in conjunction with the matter made me forget my tongue in my head.

I thought he was extravagant, reckless, and dandified. I was very much disappointed when he chose Trix, and the more I thought and saw of it, the worse I felt, for Tom was too good for her, and I hated to see her do so little for him, when she might have done so much; because he is one of the men who can be led by their affections, and the woman he marries can make or mar him."

Men with grey moustaches and full, healthy, vaguely smiling countenances approached, circling round the screen; two mature women with a matronly air of gracious resolution; a clean-shaved individual with sunken cheeks, and dangling a gold-mounted eyeglass on a broad black ribbon with an old-world, dandified effect.

Ralph, who was no common observer, was surprised to see that as this tirade proceeded, the manner of Lord Frederick Verisopht, who at the commencement had been twirling his whiskers with a most dandified and listless air, underwent a complete alteration.

But I've no patience with Jos and his dandified modesty.

With their smart, tailored uniforms, they took on a very dandified air.

He adjusted his tie; he put his pipe between his lips, swung his walking-stick in a dandified manner, and alighted fussily from the lorry...Then he proceeded to make a speech.' In the novel, Benjamin Benjamin is actually a scoundrel donning the nationalist garb.

For The Good Times by David Keenan sometimes reads like a negative print of Milkman, fronted by gun-slinging paramilitaries who adore the tunes of Perry Como and create a dandified carnage like the boys in Scorsese's Mean Streets.