+2
1 video
7 afbeeldingen
My husband fell asleep hours ago and I'm still wide awake in pink mesh with nobody telling me to stop. Some nights I get greedy and film all of it, darling. Unlock this and tell me you're awake too.
+2
1 video
7 afbeeldingen
My husband fell asleep hours ago and I'm still wide awake in pink mesh with nobody telling me to stop. Some nights I get greedy and film all of it, darling. Unlock this and tell me you're awake too.
Sixth Avenue is a wall of masks and my husband is home watching the broadcast, knowing half this crowd has already seen what's under the coat. Being looked at by a thousand strangers while he sits there alone — that's my real costume, darling. Tell me you'd have been pressed against me in this crowd.
The whole city plays dress-up this weekend and I've decided my costume is barely a costume at all. My husband's been assigned door duty, which means he watches me walk out looking like this and thanks me for it. Stud, tell me you'd be waiting on that sidewalk.
The costume options are scattered across the bed and so am I — my husband took one look and walked right back out. Darling, tell me what you'd have me put on tonight... or nothing at all.
The Altuzarra studio sale at the Woolworth had a line around the block, so I took the last fitting room and sent my husband something he can't unsee. Darling, tell me you'd have chosen the dress or the woman standing without it.
Six miles along the river before the city found its voice, and the Perrotin doors don't open on Orchard Street until tonight — my husband's still asleep, naturally. Tell me you'd have kept pace, stud.
The SYSTEMATIC reception on Reade Street is pulling me downtown and I still haven't picked the dress — the black lace is winning so far. My husband gets to hear about the decision, not see it. Stud, tell me which one I wear out the door.
Sotheby's hangs Ornament & Texture tonight and the only question is how much of me this silk gives away under their lights. My husband's already been told he's staying home. Stud, tell me you'd walk in on my arm instead.
The Morgan hangs its Rembrandts this morning and I've been up all night deciding what to wear under the coat. This is as far as the deciding got, darling — tell me you'd have kept me company instead.
The martini's gone warm, the robe gave up, and I'm the only one in this bed with any ambition left. Come finish what I started, darling.
The reception ran out of champagne before I ran out of appetite, and my husband's been asleep since I walked in. I'm not done being looked at yet, darling — tell me you're still up.