![]() ![]() The dress was white with the faintest tinge of seafoam green, beaded and stiff through the torso and then releasing into a tulle storm cloud that gathered barometric pressure above the ground at thigh height. Oh! K.’s feathery exclamation snapped my vision into focus toward a dress form. The accessories had their own accessories: there were opera glasses with an eyeglasses chain on which dangled an opera-glasses charm. ![]() ![]() Every corner had multiple layers of stuff, so you couldn’t put your eye down on one thing without it landing on five more: golden silk handkerchiefs, tallboy cabinets draped with ropy silken tassels, iridescent velvet slippers, a bristly thick, glossy black, lancelet fur capelet, gumdrop earrings that might have been rhinestones or Tiffany. pressed her hand to the double-barred iron door, and it yielded. Suddenly, sure as a homing pigeon, she wheeled around a corner to a gated sliver of silver and pressed an anonymous black button. But she couldn’t remember its name, or whether it was off Columbus or Amsterdam, so we kept stumbling into these half blocks, asphalt shimmering under our sweating shoes. and I were going to this perfect vintage store, we have to go, I really want to take you. I’ve never been married, and I’ve bought my wedding dress. ![]()
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