Pull on the skirt as hard as you can

A breeze blew through and flapped her skirt tauntingly. It would surely not be long before someone walked by.

Anna had ****. She had to get her skirt back. She braced her feet against the chair’s legs, summoned all her strength, and gave one final hard yank. With a terrible ripping sound, the skirt tore free. Or, more accurately, it tore in half. Anna was left with a scrap in her hand just barely large enough to cover her front half, or her rear, but not both.

But that wasn’t even Anna’s biggest problem. The **** of the skirt tearing free sent Anna flying backwards, crashing into a bookshelf and sending books cascading down on top of her.