She seemed different somehow. Changed. Like someone who had gone on a trip, or had an epiphany, or taken a lover.
Perhaps she seemed more glamorous.
No longer the capes, the scarves, the embroidery. No longer the ethnic flair. No longer the scent of faraway lands.
In its place, a kind of pared down extravagance. The satin flowers crowded at her waist. The jewels blinking, piled one on top of another.
Preening, preening. Every mirror held her reflection.
She was quiet. But as I left her, I could have sworn I heard her say these words:
Today is the very best day to start becoming the person you want to be. Today.
J Crew belt, antique African glass trade beads
Vintage brooches and hair jewels
Miss Wabor. Found in the Marrakech souks.
Her home in my bedroom at Peacock Pavilions. Original French poster from 1923, long bed pillow made from a vintage Moroccan sequined wedding blanket, vintage Italian crystal sconce.
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PS Many thanks to those of you who left such lovely comments and notes of inspiration. They have helped me draw on inner reserves at a time when it is so badly needed.
