Something between a mister and a mattress

          As any other woman I love beautiful things. The atmosphere that is being created by the things you love, enjoy or admire is very important to me. The thought behind it: if I have a freedom to create the world around me, why wouldn’t I surround myself with what I truly find beautiful? Not everything is as easy as it seems at the first sight and I get it. I am not living the easiest life path myself and I know the bitter taste of destiny when it slams its bottom part into your face. However, there is this useful advice I have been given years ago: move forward and never look back.

          Anyhow, my birthday is slowly approaching, I am turning 23. Although I am not planning anything at all and this year has been nothing but a big bundle of pain, I thought to make a birthday dress just for myself, just like that. Not always something special should be something big, not always public, not always from someone else; people forget that they are perfectly capable of preparing a gift for themselves.

        While shopping at the fabric store I went through yards and yards of these beautiful, silky-soft pieces of lace: any color, any texture, any pattern. It is an extremely enchanting view,  even if you don’t sew, don’t do arts and have a minimal imagination you can’t just stand next to these beautiful and  sexy fabrics and not let your thoughts play around it. Anything that you could make: lace bustiers, soft night gowns, cocktail dresses with a very inviting decolletage – everything screams “Love me with passion!”.  I could not help myself but to picture this lady: all dressed in lace, in a dusky light of a hotel room waiting for her date, who is running late from a family dinner or kissing his kids goodnight. All the lies he tells, all the passion she accepts. I am thinking Marilyn Monroe, Monica Lewinsky or Princess Diana. At first, for some unknown reason, I don’t picture them as home wrecking beasts. Rather as a capture of unplanned love. But only at first.  These gentle, lacy images evaporate so fast after the question has been asked: “What about wives?”. Don’t they get to be soft and charming, all dressed in lace, loved with passion and given all these sweet attributes that mistresses enjoy? Don’t they get that extra kiss in the morning or coffee in bed, care when they need it most, that extra car ride, or that beautiful lingerie as a present just like that, for no reason? Or is it a special prerogative of someone who is there between a mister and a mattress? Lace + mistress = best friends. Lace + wife = almost sounds too vulgar.

        Affair is just a beautiful and sad fantasy. As Lewinsky summed it up well: “I’m well-known for something that isn’t great to be well-known for.”  I would love to make that lace dress for myself, but for now –  I am going to pass. Some thoughts need extra time to settle in your head.


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