A few weeks ago, me and thirty or so other women gathered to shower a young woman for her upcoming wedding. Being the fashionista that I am, and one always eager to dress for the occasion, I was relieved to know that we had instructions in that regard.
We were to consider that time when Audrey Hepburn had breakfast at Tiffany’s.
We were to wear our little black dress and pearls.
Which I did (after purchasing one) and topped it off or rather bottomed it out with my Chinese knock off Chrisitan Louboutin’s. (Those red soled shoes scream sexy.)
It was fun and it was quite something to see the 20 somethings, and the 30 somethings, all the way to 80 something’s, and we were who we each were in our little black dresses.
We had petite fours.
While we were feting the bride, on a whim the husband of the hostess of the little black dress affair had thought to spend some time with the groom, beings he was in town already.
Ann, the hostess who I love, and Bill her husband, who I love too, have a special way about them.
With no more than two days to plan, a ‘tool bath’ had been organized. Bill conspired with the groom’s future father in law. While the black dress group sat