Chapter Twenty Six
CARRYING a bouquet, and handkerchief and gloves, proud of her height as when she lived, she moves with all the careless and height-stepping grace, the extravagant courtesan’s face of perfection….…
That’s right, that maniac, drug addled, Absinth struck bad boy Baudelaire wrote that, and how does he know…LOOK AT ME.
Vanity, vanity, vanity.
But, I’m working on it, as I pirouette on my nifty, sexy, new 3 inch, zip on the side, black Marc Jacobs ankle boot heels.
Legs never looked better, long, lean, bod like a whisper.
I like being 6-2, a real tower of power in stiletto heels.
I pretty much look “ALL THAT” tonight.
I’m decked out in my eight inch above the knee, little, black Betsy Johnson cocktail dress. I read in Vogue, French edition that every gal should have one
