Such hair as he had was of a grizzled black, cut short and straight upon his temples, and hanging in a frowzy
fringe about his ears.
The old vagabond was settled again in his armchair, with his dog in his lap, his pipe in his mouth, and his French novel in his hand; exhibiting exactly the picture of frowzy
comfort which he had presented when his visitors first entered the room.
The proprietor of this charming retreat, and owner of the ragged head before mentioned--for he wore an old tie-wig as bare and frowzy
as a stunted hearth-broom--had by this time joined them; and stood a little apart, rubbing his hands, wagging his hoary bristled chin, and smiling in silence.
A creature half alive; an imperfectly developed animal in shapeless form clad in a man's pilot jacket, and treading in a man's heavy laced boots, with nothing but an old red-flannel petticoat, and a broken comb in her frowzy
flaxen hair, to tell us that she was a woman--such was the inhospitable person who had received us in the darkness when we first entered the house.
Of course I was at his mercy till the end of the half, and in his weeks my study was so frowzy
I couldn't sit in it.
I walk to the front window, and look across the road upon a long, straggling row of houses, one story high, terminating, nearly opposite, but a little to the left, in a melancholy piece of waste ground with frowzy
grass, which looks like a small piece of country that has taken to drinking, and has quite lost itself.
The middle-aged, frowzy
blonde woman who sleeps on the fire escape with her husband, and who owns the dog that Thorwald eventually strangles to death.
We want to catch sight of a damp hairline, a frowzy
No Object Strephon's eye escapes, Her Pettycoats in frowzy
Heaps; Nor be the Handkerchiefs forgot All varnish'd o'er with Sniff and Snot.
The photos document banal, depopulated surroundings: a dismal dance club, a closed church door, a frowzy
dining room with plastic tablecloths and deer heads on the walls, each described simply in terms of its location: Entrance of Anguish, Anguish at Night, House of Anguish, and so on.
the rats sought warmth in the frowzy
and sour scent of fear sweat
Jonathan Swift, that literary genius and archcynic describes his mistress Celia's dressing room with its pettycoats in frowzy
heaps and its all-important dressing table covered in slutty disarray with "gally-pots and vials" half filled with "paint or slops" or combs equally filled with, "sweat, dandruff, powder, lead paint and human hair" When a woman sat at her dressing table, male cynics observed that she "endeavoured to be as much like any other creature as she possibly could.