What to do on this tatty Wednesday?

Traipsing about the house, backyard, city streets, or wherever my vertiginous shoes might trek, I’m draped in a definite state of bewilderment that feels like a New York City mandate or something.  Looking as if one more cup of Joe would send me straight into a frenzy of heart palpitations prior the full-on insanely-chic attack, admittedly I can often be heard chanting across an unmentionable geographical radius. 

Inexplicably, a singsong of, “Dresses, and handbags, and shoes…  O’ my!”  This chameleonic savoir-faire and dubious desire to have (and obtain) certain items in my life has a bizzarro way of affecting my circle of friends with a tizzy of buyer’s remorse. 

Covetousness, there I’ve said it, okay… sassily noted. End of story. 

With that said, here’s a summarizing gladiatrix-moment from my afternoon, and the preeminent pair of shoes any die hard miniskirt could hope for…

Dress, Wet Seal. Slip, vintage. Shoes, Nine West.