My Fatal Sniping: Let Me Show You It.
i’m kind of mad for spatterdashes lately. i’m not too sure why. possibly it has something to do with never being able to find boots that don’t seem to be built for people with ankles proportionate to their feet – in other words, cankle boots, which all boots seem to be, anymore.
this is a lot of four pairs of black jersey spats. they seem to come complete with the label. there’s a size 6, a size 7, and two size 13s, which i’ll probably improve and sell on etsy to recoup some of my expense. i may replace the buttons on the others as well, just to make them a little flashier – i found something else that bespeaks clean and classic; something that evokes the Ideal Platonic Spat, something like (after the jump) . . .
something rather more like these.
thick woollens in a very dark olive.
such beautiful craftsmanship.
now i merely need to convince myself that i don’t really *need* this gown.
alas, the line between need and WANT is so blurry as to be excruciatingly arbitrary.
pnut galry