Once a few years ago, I went out with a man who I knew everyone wanted to go out with, sort of... he asked me where I wanted to have lunch and I said Gramercy Tavern and we did, for three hours, and he made a map of Connecticut out of some sugar packets to show me where he was from and sent me a perfect note before I got home, and little did he know I'd stayed out so late at my friend's book party the night before that I'd slept in my dress on her couch and woken up just in time to breathlessly hail a cab; later he said he couldn't believe I'd chosen such an expensive restaurant (didn't I realize he wasn't that high up in the company yet?). Soon after, fate brought us together and we went from an author's reading to a publishing party and then out for a drink. Since then, many more than one woman has confided in me her abiding obsession with him and hey, I get it. Anyway, I was no meek miss at the time, and I suppose he was aware of his charms and the conversation turned and I said something to the effect of, rather clumsily yet assured, "I could have ten men just like you falling at my feet right now, and I'm here, so make it worth my while," and he said, either shortly before or shortly thereafter, "you really are like the heroine in a Fitzgerald story," and bless me, I was such a girl then: I thought he meant that because I had a flower on my hat. We kissed out front until we agreed to part or get arrested.
["Emeline" fur velour cloche in camel, $178 at Hats in the Belfry]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - is more or less on summer hiatus, and will return in the fall.
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