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!
