Apologies for attempting to rip yet another hole in the fabric of spacetime. I hope it’s nothing a proper tailor can’t mend.
Hats off to the organizers of tomorrow’s Dressed to the Nines: Gloves and Hats. And hats off in the exhibition, please. They obstruct views. artic.edu
I knew A Thursday on Chicago’s Lakefront reminded me of something.
I may be from the past, but I believe Monsieur’s cobbler may be from the future.
Her bag is yet another reminder that I still need to pack for the 19th century.
And just like that, I discovered Buckingham Fountain wasn’t downtown’s only tall drink of water.
It’s as if Monsieur Caillebotte built a bridge to the 21st century. LE PONT DE L’EUROPE, 1876
Before there was “No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service” there was “No chemise, stockings, garters, corset, bustle, petticoat, skirt, bodice, belt, nor shoes, no service.”
While the chain suggested she might be a slave to fashion, her multicolor fixie was proof that she could not be restrained.
He struck me as a man on a mission. A mission to unbutton every button in Chicago.