One Thursday morning, the sun shone warmly, and though I knew I was spending my day indoors, mostly on the telephone planning for a large upcoming project, I wanted to infuse some color and cheer into my attitude and look. This red skirt exudes a sort of floral, fiery peony design, and upon further inspection, the pattern alludes to the movement and the passion of broad, sweeping brush strokes against a cream clean canvas.
In the above photograph, procured as usual by my dear filmmaker, I am holding a copy of Matisse, Picasso, Miro: As I Knew Them; the book is beautiful, though I have not found the opportunity to begin reading through the text and truly drinking in the images. It was a Christmas present from the beau.
I will not be able to get away with opaque black tights for much longer, or any other color for that matter; while I quiver in anticipation at this prospect, I also grow a tad anxious and forlorn, because they do create the illusion of stream-lined legs and clean lines with particular pieces in my closet. Time for fuller skirts and lighter fabrics, I suppose.
When I am feeling uninspired or in a rut, which has been the case a bit lately, at least mentally, a a cascade of textured necklaces construct a facade of nimble creativity. The effect is particularly notable when dressing monochromatically, especially gray or black, as I have been known to do. This outfit, with the Parisian-like stripes and the painted floral skirt does not want for accenting, however, the waterfall of necklaces adds another layer of fun.