Depending on your definition of better, yes

"I need mouthwash," she muttered, her tongue feeling utterly filthy. She probed it against a miniscule cut in her lip, hoping it would heal fast and not swell up tonight.

As she adjusted her top, brushing away some dirt, she noticed it had torn almost all the way through..

"Katrina will kill me for ruining her top," she moaned, trying to resist the near compulsion she felt to fiddle with the tear and try to somehow repair it. "At least it still covers everything," she muttered, looking down at the plunging red fabric in the deep shade of the alley.

The skirt, she found, was in no better shape, having somehow been ripped as well by the cabbie's rough handling. While it wasn't about to fall off a skirt wasn't meant to have tears like jeans.

She was just straightening up to look around when a door she hadn't noticed behind her opened.

"No breaks!" the man barked at her. "Get inside."

"What?" she stared at him, but he just yanked her arm and pulled her inside, dislodging another couple of sequins. "Break-time's over, get to your station!"

"Where's my station?" she asked automatically, though she really wanted to know what was going on.