You know, outside of magical circumstances—like scenes in films such as The Unbearable Lightness of Being and others—it ends up being rare that you come across women, totally alone in their own homes, nevertheless adorned with trinkets and baubles and top hats. Just because they felt like it.
For them to do so, though, to me, is a sign of the endurance of the female enchantment; that there still remains, outside of status updates and bathroom mirror photographs, something about women we will never understand.
I haven’t taken this off, save those forlorn lopes to the gym up the hill. With it on, I survey my whereabouts differently. Eli doesn’t wear a gilded saddle, but he might as well.
P.S. My fireplace floor pillows are courtesy Anthropologie… I rarely leave these things during the day.
Related, but loosely so: have you watched First Knight lately? Screw the critics; it remains one of my most favorite films of all time.