Last night, while treating myself to a single lady glass of wine, I played constantly with my phone and occasionally tweeted.
In general, I take my presence on Twitter as a challenge to be as witty and ridiculous as possible in 140 characters or less. Yet this quip rang with a certain amount of truth, as after all of these years, I still favor the sweet and prim and proper in my dressing. I never did break out
The Vest during that summer I spent floating all around Boston in dresses.
I still temper my miniskirts with ballet flats. But there's a current directly beneath the surface that many don't see. Or choose not to.
The
Tory Burch girl was her usual sweet self this year. Or so it seemed. Instead of Palm Springs or The Breakers, she appeared to be spending the cold winter months in the heart of Manhattan's upper echelons. There were flowers in soft blush tones. And skirts and dresses of just the right length. But during the day, her very long, black leather gloves winked at passerby.
And at night, her navy leather pants told the real story.
Photos via