She crosses one arm over her stomach, knuckles resting against her elbow as she watched him over the rim of her martini (which she was kind of using to block her view of his lower half).

"In my world, that's what we call underware, and it is not polite to show it outside of your own bedroom." She speaking in harsh undertones, trying not to let it blow up anymore than it already has. She is not going to address his opinions on her own dress because, frankly, she didn't expect him to be able to understand women's fashion (or, apparently, fashion at all). "You're certainly not getting an respect or admiration wearing this getup."