Every Halloween costume I try on turns into less fabric than I started with — this fishnet gave up pretending halfway through. Tell me what's missing?
Every Halloween costume I try on turns into less fabric than I started with — this fishnet gave up pretending halfway through. Tell me what's missing?
New lingerie day always ends the same way — three sets on the floor and me forgetting which one I was supposed to be judging. Don't just stand there.
Mary Cassatt at the Orsay tomorrow, so tonight the bath gets me first and my clothes can wait on the floor. What would you have me wear to meet her?
A whole new show just opened at the Fondation Cartier — rooms built from stitched jute sacks — and I want to be inside before the queues form. Still deciding if this shirt leaves the apartment buttoned. Talk fast?
A whole museum of women who wore the trousers first, so I borrowed the idea and left most of my own clothes at home. The 19th century would approve, non? Tell me the suit looks better on me than it ever did on them.
Casting day and the sample rack is full of lace that wasn't built to survive the afternoon — this set already made my shortlist. Think it books me the job?
The fair folded on me, but half the city turned into a free gallery overnight — and I'm collecting every room of it today. Come find me between the paintings?
Just heard the fair isn't reopening this weekend — my whole carefully built plan, cancelled overnight. Fine, I'll entertain myself instead. Come keep me company?
The Versace retrospective closes in a week and I refuse to miss it, so this morning everything else can wait while I fight my way into something worthy of it. The dress is winning so far. Tell me I picked right?
Walked home the long way past the Trocadéro — three giant bronzes and the tower sparkling like it's showing off just for me. I stayed for every last glitter. Wish you were standing here?