I was going to write yesterday…but retail fever overcame me, and I went to the sale at Nordstrom. Dangerous place, very dangerous. One pair of black patent leather peep-toe pumps, one pair soft suede knee-high boots with spiky heels, black of course, with corset-lacing up the back. One pair black leather boots with a chunky heel and slightly bondage-y buckles on them, also knee high. A short, tight, shiny black skirt (that looks perfect with the new pumps), a few fetching casual t-shirts and tops, and a pair of faintly punk-rock black Capri pants.
And there’s the Express store next door in Pacific Place, where they have a cut of pants that, when I wear them, makes Roman say, “Oooo, the bootie pants!” So I had to go buy some more bootie pants – 3 pairs. And a silky camisole that goes with the short tight skirt. And a dark satiny long sleeved button-up shirt, looking a bit like the bastard offspring of Annie Hall and Saturday Night Fever, but fitting me so perfectly I just had to.
Thus did commerce and fashion, not writing, rule my day.
But what about the evening, Matisse - the evening? you say. Ah, that is another matter.
You see, Eros ruled my evening. Mmmmmm….. So I will say no more, and simply purr.