Every day, I wonder why I couldn’t have been born as Ginger Rogers. I think she is, in one word, exquisite.
And, of course, like you all, I desperately want to find old stocks and bonds hidden in my floorboards and spend it on a decadent and obscenely large vintage wardrobe, Russian and French language teachers, cello and piano lessons, flats and cottages and villas around the world, a cat sanctuary, and a 1920’s Duesenberg.
toujours. always. xo