Exhilarating morning inhaling culture before tallying off to work. Had viewed "Killer Heels" and should have reexamined the eery intelligence of the SteamPunk inventions. My mission was to indulge in the "Public Selects" exhibition. I knew practically the whole compliment of artist's and went to visit a necklace of mine included with Kristin Dieners extraordinary work. Plagued which to parade; I winnowed this divinity to flaunt from my superfluous collection.
Sticking with the titillating theme ( she devil that I am) I paint on this black cotton blend with ruched detail.
Shoes are a dynamic addition to this age inappropriate ensemble.
Green satin with wicker wedges. Dig it!
Off to slither around a bookstore before work! Wheeeeee!
Vacant as to what friend bequeathed this delicate blouse. It think it was Susan Wasson. Her mother's. Truly ranks as a rare ambrosia. My air conditioning was defunct yesterday and didn't entertain bralette recon for a moment. Sweat lodge ambiance reigned until the glorious vision of the repairman. Must add that this gossamer treat boasted monolithic unwieldy sleeves prompting the vision of my vaunting out of a Vermeer painting.
Dollop of antique pins, truly cherished. Ardently bedeviled by stick pins. Dig it!
Zoot suit trousers are insufficiently discernible in pic but boast a waist up to my scant bust.
Tucking in my disheveled blouse would have supplied better documentation. Slovenly is as slovenly does. Wheeeeee!
Incredulous in regards to the rejection of beguiling designer items that fall flat at Buffalo Exchange and consignment boutiques. Are they putting me on? Do I need to do a tutorial on who's who in the fashion trade? Couldn't Buffalo Exchange squeeze my garment in betwixt six thousand flannel shirts and threadbare t-shirts? Apparently a negative. The hell with it. I'll keep it and bring it back to life with defibrillation paddles. Wheeeeee!
Snowy loose woven endless tunic with comely front panel. Sorely resembles a parade float should the slender red patent belt had not been orchestrated.
Lax attention to detail, observe askew hem. Askew is as askew does. Dig it!
Pride of necklaces (not lions) . Wanda Lobito's Virgin Mary beneath red glass heart on pale grey pearls. Wee pearls, and yet some other pearls. How erudite am I!
Can't keep a good designer frock down in my opinion. Rock on!
Exquisite crewel work made jewels superfluous (me?). Evokes a "Doctor Quinn Medicine Woman" nightie ambiance.
Funny, my best friend and I had a dialogue on jeans and how we rarely brandish them. We also drove home the fact that they are hot, especially in warm climes. What do I wear two days later? Jeans! She had gifted them! I had to drive that point home. Abbreviated length to debut my dainty, clever boots.
Boots, nice summer footwear. Dig it!
Kohl's acquisition on triple markdown. Heh, I find them fetching. In a "Doctor Quinn Medicine Woman" kind of way. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!
Pride myself on my leg strength but blanched when I donned this skirt. Physically felt like it was testing my knees. What the? Didn't, in the slightest recollect that little factoid. Perhaps it's the 300 miles of fabric creating this vintage gem. But wait, there's more! It has the most abhorrent, abrasive, chicken wire tulle beneath. Not addressed was how prudent a slip could have aided my safety. I persevered courageously for fashion's sake.
Amputated arms prevent the exposed straps of my peach bralette. Very Glamour don't. Water boarding should be decreed.
If I've said it once I've said it a googolplexian times, (1 with 300 zeros, dig it! ) My elephantine
inventory of Karan Sipe's resplendence is flaunted with effusive frequency.
It's heavy, it's scratchy, it's worth it. Wheeeee!
After scraping the chili dog residue from my jewelry cases. Summerfest was the previous day, (I'm vehemently trying to forget). It's like Earth Day with a lot less patchouli drenched hippies parading starter tomato plants; it's a lemming flow of quaffing, chowing, humanity.
I relish in the beauty I enshroud myself with every day. I took particular pleasure in this ensemble. Yet another vest! In velveteen! Short waisted, glorious floral motif and black sequined capped sleeves. Cranberry cami.
Pencil skirt with romantic lace triangular inserts. Overbrimming loveliness. Cranberry patent flats with sparkly pointed toes.
Knowledge of my penchant for another time (1800s), is often reiterated. I've always adored the waistcoat, principally for being a man's garment. Dig it!
Dove grey of heavy brushed cotton. This bombardment of vests when it's a thousand degrees out? Huh?
Yes, bottom button is afoot. Do I care? I think not.
Back is not as compelling as I deduced. Just a flaccid black bow. ZZZZZ.
Scintillating skirt by Leifsdottir, brilliantly clever, and from days of tangible currency. What a concept!
Hypothesize this cheesiness is going to turn my neck green in the next 5 minutes. Rock on!