It's remarkable that the 30s didn't have a revolution. There's Mater on the left, still regal despite decades of opiate abuse; the Plain Sensible One in the middle whose father is simply loaded, practically owns Montana, don't you know, and the Wild One on the right, who likes the driver to slow down when they pass a bread line so she can look at the men. When they meet her gaze they have that look of hatred and desire she simply finds irresistable. It's so primal.

All the women look a little self-conscious, don't you think? The one in the middle looks like she's trying to ignore a mob as best as she can. Fear only encourages them.