Tuesday, February 28, 2012

What Is Luxury: Part I

The ultimate in luxury -- look at the jacket, isn't it extraordinary (?) -- designed by Elsa Schaparelli and worn by the Duchess of Windsor.

As I work on my book and am out and about conducting interviews, it is inevitable that I am once again thrust into the world I once knew so well -- the universe of (is that a mixed metaphor -- earth and universe? Whatever.) of luxury "things."

Included in this rarefied atmosphere are designer clothes, accessories, jewels, services one can only imagine, beauty products and the pricey pampering that accompanies them and, of course, the VIP treatment that one would expect -- demand -- under these circumstances.

My re-immersion, to my great surprise, ignited some of those old yearnings I had for luxe stuff. I thought it had passed, but no, at least not completely.

I'll take the Burberry on the right please. Merci.
Talk about bling. Imagine this sequined "blazer" with almost any color satin trousers (black equals a sort of  un-classic smoking for evening) or with a silk crepe pencil skirt. How chic, n'est-ce pas?
OK, maybe I wouldn't. . . but then again, maybe I would.

The cuffs? Oh, yes, pleeeese.
Here I am again confronted with the best of the best and I wanted to say, "yes, I'll have that coat; those two perfect dresses (?) life wouldn't be complete without them; the sparkly jacket (?) yes, yes, yes please and the leather one that's so creamy soft and cut like a cardigan I need it even though I've never been drawn to leather in the past; those silk blouses the way they drape -- so unexpected -- put them on the pile, no, not the orange one; love those shoes, I'll take the two pairs of Roger Viviers -- one day and one evening -- and the Louboutin peep-toe pumps, and why not (?) you might as well toss in the Gucci wedge sandals; oh, and the bags, I can envision using all of them except for the dreadful flowered tote thing -- you can keep that one;  it's been eons since I seriously thought about belts, but those bright colors in the ones that tie like obis and the natural brown one without a buckle -- so chic -- seriously I can't take a pass on them; ooo-la-la, the scarves and shawls, well a girl can't have too many of them now can she (?) I'll take all of them except that dreary khaki number; ahhh, those sunglasses are amusing particularly the ones with the red frames and that other pair with the sort of tortoise shell/leopard motif going on and merci par avance. Just pack and send please.

Florent Pagny
Then, I climb into my car turn away from Paris and head back home to the country and my reality. And, while I'm listening to Florent Pagny sing using his real, magnificent voice (instead of his "pop" salable voice), on his CD Baryton, I start thinking: "What is luxury anyway?"

I admit I have some nifty items in my closet with some serious designer caché and one of these days, after the book is written I might indulge in a couple of items, the elusive LBD that I have yet to unearth and something special, but I don't know what at the moment. We'll see. Maybe a coat.

Really, I'm not a material girl but I do like beautiful clothes and my home must be lovely as well for me to feel safe and secure.

Let's hope, in theory, I'll need a couple of new frocks when the time comes to hit the road and promote my book, when I venture out in the real world to meet you. After all, I wouldn't want you to think I didn't know how to dress the part.

I continue to wish I owned this Celine coat from last year. . .
P.S.: Of course, once the adrenaline rush has passed from the buzz of the bling, I know very well what real luxury is and in all those respects -- the ones that truly count -- I think I could say I am more than lucky.

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