A clutch and a push and the land is ours.
Welcome back! It appears that Fit For A Femme was down for much of yesterday and last night, and I had no idea. Sorry, folks! I must confess I was rather vexed, but late last night the tomboy fixed it and all was well again. Phew. (There might have been a brief hissyfit, during which I refreshed my Gmail account rapidly, snapping "I PUT IN A TICKET! WHEN ARE THEY GONNA GET TO MY TICKET!?" while M reminded me it was a late Friday night and no one was working, most likely. Harumph!)
On Wednesday night, M & I decided to get dolled up and go to Flourish, a "sexy extravagant dance party" for us flannel-clad, Birkenstock-wearing dykes! No, really. It's like the entire purpose of this event is to get all fancy and dressed up for no reason at all, and sip strawberry-topped champagne by a roaring fire and dance dance dance dance dance to the radio (or DJs). It was their last Wednesday night - they're moving to a Friday beginning next month! - and we wanted to be sure and catch it in its mid-week glory just in case a weekend crowd alters the premise overmuch. I hope not, because we had the most amazing time and will definitely be back. Plus, the gal who runs it is lovely and once rescued me from an evil Mongolian heiress.
So, this dress: LOVE YOU, MODCLOTH! I love the fluttering, kicky shortness and pretty, saturated palette. I love the keyhole back and how it hangs perfectly across the collarbone but refuses to fall off one shoulder or the other. I'm not at all fond of elastic waistlines (in fact, I've been known to recklessly tear them out with my handy seam ripper), but Sheeba the Belt remedies that effortlessly, and the spots tie the two together perfectly. Of course, I had no choice but to pair it with these shoes. MEOW.
In other news, let's all give my beloved Grandma Jones a round of applause, because it's her vintage necklace got me wearing gold again and she'd just get the biggest kick out of seeing me rock it at a big gay dance party if she were still alive. XOXO.