Those of you with a morose sense of humour will probably find this little story quite funny, but for those of you with weak constitutions I highly suggest that you stop reading now...
I'll go to pretty much any length for my blog, and I sacrifice many hours every week planning, plotting, executing, and editing without complaint. I get up early to catch the morning sun, I keep one wall of my apartment free of decoration as a backdrop, I research/agonize over inspirations, and I spend countless hours playing with my wardrobe to find the right combination. But this week my blog demanded a greater sacrifice than I've ever offered. This week it wanted blood. From the middle toe of my right foot to be exact. So now I'm sporting 3 bandaids, swearing off open-toed shoes for a while, and praying that I don't get some mysterious infection which precipitates a visit to the doctor (shudder).
The lesson in all of this: red dresses (and the days that go with them) are treacherous, narcicism will be the downfall of the best of us, and even if something doesn't look sharp it can still leave a nasty scar.
Dress by Claude d'Alban, flower hairclip by Ardene, tights by Betsey Johnson.
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