Sunday, June 16, 2013

Fashion by design

In the waning hours of haute couture, an empty nest cantilevered above a stony lintel begs for amnesty when she retreats, red-breasted just after night falls.

Shadows pretending to be silhouettes haggle market price in antebellum terms, but all for naught as no sale, not even for the trunkful passing by Joseph Cornell jettisoned and preserved through the looking-glass.

Barefoot, our contessa lays away the straight-laced boots on display, and her long polished fingernails without thinking reposes her floppy Napoleonic bonnet at a jauntier tilt so that the upswept brim, though black, smiles back widely, a harbinger of summertime.

Late June but her gait, ever so relaxed, stirs hope eternal. For Audrey Hepburn is jealous and the neighborhood hipsters lounge about the full blue moon. Robins are rich and their daddies often love sugared iced tea. Now hush, little shopkeeper, no need to bawl. Only a few more weeks before his flight back home.

So thank heavens that the bus stop headed home is only across the noisier-than-usual street, down a long city block.

Nevertheless the price to pay can be too vogue.


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