The Raquel Welch mask speaker at White Flag (p. 371)
at whatever place she’d dragged It along to It would lie in a heap, drooling and incontinent under exquisite mother-bought fashions specially altered for atrophy and top-shelf Lancôme cosmetics that looked just lurid on It, and with only the whites of Its eyes showing, with fluid dribbling from Its mouth and elsewhere, and making unspeakable gurgly noises, completely pale and moist and stagnant
Context
The mother's Denial dressed up: "fashions specially altered for atrophy" is accommodation's ghastliest inversion — tailoring not to serve the body but to costume it as undamaged, decoration in place of care. The catatonic girl is maintained as a prop of normalcy, the photographic negative of U.H.I.D.'s "shame-free concealment."